Emotional Sobriety

You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?
Emotional sobriety.
I know what you’re thinking.
“What is that?”
Okay, hear me out for a moment.
One day, while reflecting on some changes I’d noticed in myself, two words popped into my head.
Emotional sobriety.
I remember thinking, “Wow. Did I just come up with that? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that phrase before.”
For a little while, I was feeling pretty clever.
Then I looked it up.
As it turns out, I was about seventy years late to the party.
Apparently, Bill W., one of the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous, had already been talking about emotional sobriety long before I came along.
I had a pretty good chuckle over that.
So no, I can’t take credit for the phrase.
But I can tell you why it resonates with me.
A couple of years ago, I noticed something shifting within me.
Nothing overnight.
And certainly nothing worthy of fireworks.
Just a quiet shift.
I found myself pausing before I acted.
Listening more.
Reacting a whole lot less.
Now, I don’t want you to misunderstand me.
That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped having emotions.
Trust me, I still get excited.
I still get frustrated.
I still have moments when I want to fix things, rescue people, explain myself, or solve a problem nobody asked me to solve.
I’m still very much human.
Thank God.
But somewhere along the way, I noticed I wasn’t getting swept up by every emotion that came knocking at my door.
Years ago, I had a phrase for my behavior.
I called it “itchy trigger finger.”
Something would upset me and bam! I was on the phone.
I had something to say.
An opinion to share.
A frustration to express.
A point to make.
Looking back, I cringe.
Okay, who am I kidding?
I cringe a lot.
At the time, I thought I was being direct.
What I was really being was reactive.
I hadn’t yet learned the power of the pause.
More than once, I wished I could take words back.
Unfortunately, words don’t work that way.
Once they’re out, they’re out.
Over the years, I’ve learned to slow down and ask myself different questions.
Why did that affect me so deeply?
What was I feeling?
What story was I telling myself?
Sometimes I was telling stories that hadn’t been written.
That realization alone has saved me a lot of heartache.
These days, I think emotional sobriety is noticing what I’m feeling without immediately handing it the steering wheel.
Because fear can be a terrible driver.
So can anger.
So can disappointment.
And if I’m being completely honest, the cockeyed optimist in me has gotten me into trouble a few times too.
I’ve learned they all get to come along for the ride.
They just don’t get to drive.
I certainly haven’t mastered any of this.
But I do seem to find my footing a little faster.
I don’t stay stuck as long.
I don’t abandon myself as quickly.
I can feel what I’m feeling without letting it run the whole show.
And honestly, that feels like freedom.
Not perfection.
And certainly not enlightenment.
Good Lord, no.
Just a little more peace.
A little more clarity.
And a little more space between what I feel and what I choose to do with it.
Maybe that’s why the phrase has stayed with me.
Not because I’ve mastered it.
But because I’m still practicing it.
When an emotion comes knocking at my door, I try not to hand it the keys.
I definitely don’t let it take the wheel.

—Teresa R Hower