As someone who has been sober for 26 years, and in my work as a recovery coach, I have come to understand that there is more to recovery and wellness than being drug free. Although it may start there, equally, if not more important, is our emotional well-being.
When I first heard the word emotional sobriety, it sounded like an unattainable, distant thing reserved for Buddhist monks. My heroines like Tara Brach and Pema Chödrön seemed like they could nail it, but it felt out of reach for someone like me. It wasn’t until I went through a very difficult emotional time—which ended up being a portal—that I really came to understand its importance and was able to share this important aspect of recovery with my clients.
When I first heard the word emotional sobriety, it sounded like an unattainable, distant thing reserved for Buddhist monks.
One day my son announced that he was moving from New York City to Los Angeles. Apparently his decision seemed exciting and full of promise, but he had no job or place to live; he would understand when he arrived. The constant uncertainty about his well-being threw me over the edge. I was worried, worried. For weeks, I checked my phone to see if he had texted me, and I scrolled through Instagram and Facebook, intently checking for glimpses of his life, trying to make sure he was okay.
Her life was my favorite TV show, and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, I couldn’t stop worrying, and I felt emotionally hijacked.
Realizing When Your Past Appears in Your Present
As the saying goes: If it’s hysterical, it’s historic. As I dived deeper into healing, I began to understand why his departure hit me so hard. It represented something very old. When I was in college, my mother suddenly moved to Switzerland. It didn’t last long, no gradual adjustment – he was already gone. Decades later, my nervous system didn’t know the difference between then and now.
My body was saddened by the loss of the old for the new. I knew enough to go to Al-Anon meetings to try to emotionally undo it, but my peace of mind remained elusive.
My body was saddened by the loss of the old for the new. I knew enough to go to Al-Anon meetings to try to emotionally undo it, but my peace of mind remained elusive.
The change came when I learned to meditate. As a beginner, I was encouraged for the first time to pay attention to my breath, and to notice the moment, the rest, between my inhale and my exhale.
As I practiced that awareness, an insight surfaced. My breath, the most subtle physical experience, was my life force. This silent work that happened without my making it happen—it was the difference between life and death. I felt a respect for my spirit that I had never had before. Gradually, I gained the ability to see how my mind, like a cricket, bounced from thought to worry to thought—and finally, it began to settle.
For many, the substances helped relieve their feelings and were a form of drainage. So when we put things down, and get into relationships that are too close to ourselves, being quiet and quieting our minds may not feel safe. We no longer have anything to silence the noise or calm the fear.
Over time, I felt a sense of peace—an emotional release. I wasn’t chasing something outside of myself to ease my discomfort.
Making Mind A Quiet Place
In my work with people with substance abuse and/or eating disorders, many clients share with me that they continue to struggle with quieting their minds. For many, the substances helped relieve their feelings and were a form of drainage.
So when we put things down, and get into relationships that are too close to ourselves, being quiet and quieting our minds may not feel safe. We no longer have anything to silence the noise or calm the fear.
In my coaching sessions, we discuss the concept of emotional sobriety, and I offer various entry points, such as:
- Breathwork or body scan
- The “notice and name” method.
- Practice recruiting a sense of stability from the room and surroundings
- A short, guided meditation
- Cooking for twenty minutes
In all of these small practices, I gently guide them to reconnect with them with curiosity rather than judgment. Since there is no one-size-fits-all approach, we find the right fit, and move at the client’s pace.
Emotional immaturity can look like withdrawal, constant distraction, mindless scrolling. Mindfulness practices help us, over time, to understand that we can have our uncomfortable emotions without seeking an escape.
What I’ve come to understand is that understanding and self-awareness are important, but even with the best intentions we can still be emotionally hijacked, triggered in an instant—and suddenly the urge to escape those uncomfortable feelings feels overwhelming.
And while we may not achieve that or the activity that brought us to recovery in the first place—which in itself is, of course, an amazing achievement—we can achieve other, perhaps more dangerous activities that serve the same purpose. Emotional immaturity can look like withdrawal, constant distraction, mindless scrolling. Mindfulness practices help us, over time, to understand that we can have our uncomfortable emotions without seeking an escape.
What mindfulness and meditation offer, and what my clients tell me often, is a way to reset the emotional thermostat, no matter what is going on around them.
The pause between inhaling and exhaling. It’s time to choose where there was none.
That is emotional intelligence.
Stephanie Hazard is a Certified Peer Recovery Specialist (CPRS) and a Carolyn Costin Institute Certified Eating Disorder Trainer (CCIEDC). His first book, Making the Sobriety Stick: A Recovery Coach’s Guide to Sustainable Changewill be released on September 22 during National Recovery Month, and can be pre-ordered at www.pathtowardrecovery.com.
