Figure Eight

On eight years sober, infinity, and a choice without a finish line.

I think the first time I ever used the term “infinity,” it was in relation to feelings. As in, “I love you times infinity.” I don’t know if I said it to a family member, a fleeting teen love, or maybe it was a situation of, “I love this times infinity,” not a you, and the this was the best cupcake I’d ever had. I do know I’ve always loved the hyperbole of it, and that I understood that infinity meant endlessness, rather than any specific number.

But if you take the number 8, and turn it on its side, you get the infinity symbol. Is that ironic? That a symbol meant to represent an unbounded quantity does, in fact, look like a number, depending on the tilt?

Yesterday marked the 8th year of my sobriety, but I also realized that 8s have always been built into that major life change moment: April 28, 2018. I often get asked about how that came to be, and if you know me, you know I’m very open about addressing any and all related questions.

If you don’t know me yet, I shared a very brief answer to that question in my first Substack post, but there’s always more story behind the story.

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Eight years ago, I didn’t realize it was day one of anything.

Certainly nothing that was going to be longer than 30 days max.

I was, however, acutely and painfully aware that I was drowning in some of the most excruciating heartbreak and grief of my life. My decades of numb out choices had reached a point of maximum tilt, to the extent that for the first time in my life, I did not feel safe with myself. And trust me, no one was more shocked — or more terrified — by that than yours truly.

Thankfully, I was still of the mind to have an awareness that I’d reached Defcon 1 and needed to do SOMETHING, immediately. So I decided to take a “break.” And maybe I told myself it was a “break,” because committing (or admitting) to anything beyond that would have simply been too much to swallow.

Three months in, as I was approaching my come-into-this world birthday at the end of July, someone asked if I was going to celebrate my “break” and count it as a “success” by bringing it to a close with birthday cocktails. I heard myself say no before I even thought about it. Not a reluctant no. Just: no. Which of course I now know was really a yes — to me, to life. And an understanding, an acceptance, a rush of gratitude with the realization that this “break” was becoming something else entirely. Something without a finish line. A continuous loop, moving, returning to itself, beginning again.

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I always do something special on my Soberversary. In the past, it’s often been a one or two day trip with my dog daughter Gilda to somewhere within a three to four hour driving distance. This year, I decided to stick close to home and take in the perfect 77 degree, sunny Las Vegas day, sitting poolside and losing myself in Mary Laura Wilcott’s magnificent memoir, Bomb Shelter. Took an epic nap with my dog babies that deserved its own award. Enjoyed a phenomenal dinner with my partner at Delilah’s, an absolutely beautiful, pretty-impossible-to-get-in-to restaurant that serves as an homage to the glamorous age of Hollywood and Las Vegas. Toasted with a truly lovely non-alcoholic sparkling wine (this is harder to find than you might imagine). Topped it off with a salted caramel chocolate cupcake (that I, of course, love times infinity), adorned with a silver 8 candle crown.

Each year, I also source a single marble representing a year of sobriety, a practice I was inspired to start years ago by Brené Brown. The first three marbles came from my dear friend Katie. Some I’ve found on my own, at various vintage and thrift shops. Years 7 and 8 have come from my partner, and they have been, as he tends to be, several levels above what past me, pre-sober me, would have picked for myself.

This year’s marble is made of amethyst. And while I have been woo-woo for a very, very long time, and my house is a crystal palace, including a few different amethyst pieces, it was only over the last year that I discovered this stone is associated with sobriety. In fact, the word amethyst comes from the Greek word amethystos, meaning: not intoxicated.

He was extremely intentional in choosing amethyst for this year’s marble, which was also crafted to be UV reactive under black light. He also created and designed a handmade card for me (dude knows me and the way to my heart), with one side explaining the origin story behind the stone, and the other containing a personal message that I’m going to keep private. But let’s just say I cried in public. No shame in that statement, and besides, Delilah’s does not allow photography inside the establishment (though I did sneak one of the marble under the black light wand he got me to go with it, and as you can see, the result is otherworldly).

I also seem to always spot the respective number in the wild day of, or maybe I’m just more acutely aware of it. But sure enough, 8s were winking all over the place, including the first slot machine we saw after dinner, with a grand jackpot of $88,888.88.

I didn’t win that jackpot. But for the past 2,920 days, I have been reaping the rewards of another jackpot. One I love times infinity.

xo,
SG

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