What Happens When You’re Forced to Feel Your Feelings

Well… It happened. 

I just celebrated my first sober birthday, and after a few days, it finally feels real. 

For weeks I haven’t allowed myself to think about the approaching milestone, mostly because I’m a sap and cry whenever I think about it. In sobriety, I cry about everything. Recently I was watching Hacks season 3 and I sobbed because it hit me that I was watching the season sober as it aired which wasn’t the case for the first two seasons… so that’s where I’m at. 

Being so filled with gratitude and joy over the smallest things is new. I mean, crying because of CPTSD triggers? Been there done that. But crying about small, wonderful things is an experience my body is still adjusting to. Eventually, I know this will even out as my nervous system becomes more comfortable experiencing joy, safety, and gratitude. So for now, I’ll just laugh about how silly it feels to cry over the little things. After all, feelings are temporary and this phase of my life won’t last forever. Nothing lasts forever. It’s a saying I’ve heard many times, but one that hits differently in recovery. I’ve been forced to feel the feelings like never before. 

When I started treatment for my CPTSD, I felt the emotions. I felt the hard shit, but even then with all that I was feeling and all of the personal work I was doing, I was still drinking and getting high during or after an episode. This is what I needed to do at the time, and I can’t change that now… but having the experience of moving through these things sober has given me so much insight into just how temporary feelings are. They say that feelings only last in the body for ninety seconds and everything after is the story we tell ourselves about the feelings.

Drinking and using prevented me from fully experiencing the after. Sure, there’s a calm before the storm, but after the storm, you get to go outside and notice how much greener everything is. After the storm, we see the wind ripple through the puddles, and the raindrops slide off the leaves and down the window. We take a breath. We notice that we are lighter. Something has changed. A cycle completed. This doesn’t happen when you’re crouching down in the garage or on the porch lighting a pipe or taking a swig from a bottle. 

Thankfully, now I have the tools that allow my body to move through the feelings it needs to. I have clarity of mind and can use somatics to fully process my experiences as my body communicates them to me. I can listen, learn, and live in the after. I can love my body. I can hug myself, take myself for a walk, take a nap, listen to music, meditate, spend time with my community, journal… the list of resources I have now that I didn’t have before feels bottomless, unlike the substances I relied on where there never seemed to be enough. 

Being forced to feel my feelings means I’m forced to move forward, an option that was unavailable to me when I couldn’t allow myself to be fully present with discomfort. When I would deny myself the opportunity to experience all that is revealed as discomfort transforms into growth. 

Cheers to one year of beautifully uncomfortable living.