The Spiritual Awakening to Sober Curious Pipeline

Is a spiritual awakening nudging you toward sobriety? I can relate

I began my spiritual awakening on my 28th birthday at a strip mall in the Bible Belt. 

I remember this date, specifically, because I’d ended that day adopting the motto, “28 and Feeling Great.” Even though I had decidedly not been feeling so great lately.

Let me set the scene: At 28, I genuinely thought my life was falling apart (bold, I know). I’d just had my heart broken by my first love, and I was exhausted by my job, where I was overworking for an abysmally modest salary (the overworking was my choice, by the way). Although I had an active social life, most of my friendships were shallow and revolved around “see and be seen” type events.

My life was by no means in shambles; I actually had a lot to be proud of - I owned a home, was a first-generation college student who’d also obtained my graduate degree, and a posh society magazine had recognized me as one of the top 20 under 30 young professionals to watch. And yet, I somehow felt completely lost and unbelievably off track.

The discontent and stress were manifesting as chronic neck and back pain, which is how I found myself referred to a Native American bodyworker who had his healing center in an unassuming strip mall in the middle of town.

I arrived at my appointment on the afternoon of my 28th birthday entirely unsure of what to expect. I only knew that Dave was a gifted healer and that I was lucky to have an appointment with him.

Despite his cult following, Dave was a kind and simple man. Ceremonial music piped through his offices, which were decorated with plants, crystals, and Native American art. Dave wore his hair in a long silver ponytail and donned his uniform of a loose button-up, khaki shorts, and bare feet.

I felt instantly connected to him and enchanted by his demeanor. Dave was serene in a way that felt foreign - if not impossible - to me. He seemed utterly unbothered by absolutely everything, and I desperately wanted a heavy dose of whatever he was taking.

Through the course of our appointments, Dave became not only my healer but my mentor. During our time together, he’d weave in his knowledge of healing, spirituality, and metaphysics. His lessons were subtle, never pushy. A stark contrast to another mentor who had insisted that I get to know Jesus Christ if we were to work together.

Dave was the antithesis of every experience I’d ever had with religion. His lessons were rooted in kindness, not fear or shame. His knowledge came from sacred cultural practices with a rich history. I felt a certain sense of calm and ease as Dave shared various philosophies with me during our visits.

Each session, Dave would share a bit about his life philosophy.  Astonishingly, he hadn’t always been so serene. He used to struggle with mindset and money, until he came across a book that changed his life. It was Dr. Wayne Dyer’s The Power of Intention. I raced home, eager to download that book on my Kindle and learn the secrets of life for myself.

I was sure that this book held the magic pill that made Dave so effervescent. I was determined to have that, too. 

I will say this plainly: The Power of Intention is not a beginner-level spirituality book. It is incredibly dense, and I slowly trudged through the first few chapters, reading and rereading paragraphs in an effort to make sense of things.

Despite the fact that most of what I was reading felt foreign, I continued on through the text. If this book was Dave’s spiritual anchor, I would make it mine too. Intent on understanding what in the holy heck Dr. Dyer was writing about, I began to download his audiobooks and lectures (even though I secretly thought audiobooks were for nerds).

My mission to get to know Dr. Wayne Dyer led me to a charming interview he’d done with Oprah on her show Super Soul Sunday. To my surprise, Miss O had a plethora of interviews with other authors, speakers, and teachers. 

And so, down the spiritual rabbit hole I went. I began spending most of my alone time with the Super Soul Sunday crew. I’d listen to lectures and interviews as I cleaned my house, eagerly devouring the information and knowledge each teacher had to share.

One day, I stumbled upon an interview that had me hooked. A roundtable interview with Oprah and three young thought leaders - Gabrielle Bernstein, Mastin Kipp, and Marie Forleo. I was instantly drawn to Gabby Bernstein; her energy was magnetic, and her message was powerful. I remember thinking, I want what she has. And, even more quietly…I think this is what I’m supposed to do.

I rushed back to my Audible dashboard (I was now a full audiobook convert, by now) and downloaded Bernstein’s book, Spirit Junkie, silently choosing her as my north star. 

Armed with Gabby’s guidance, I decided I was ready to wake the eff up and start living the life that my favorite teachers were describing to me.

The Work-Hard, Play-Hard Trap

If you think this is a rosy story where my life changed overnight because I picked up a few self-help books. You would be wrong. 

You see, I’d also been sold this heavily romanticized ideal of “balance.” Coming up in a good-old-boys corporate environment, this looked like work hard during the week and play hard on the weekends.

And so, that’s just what I did. I spent my weekdays being the epitome of mindfulness. I read my metaphysical texts, went to yoga, journaled, and listened to meditations. By Friday night at 5:30, I was ready to be mindless. I felt entitled to a cocktail or a glass of wine after a long week of 9-5 stress and drama. I wanted the anxiety of work and adult responsibilities to fade into the background. I also ached to fit in with my peers, and that looked like holding my own on the boozy social scene.

By the time Monday rolled around, I was digging myself out of a hole, but still determined to stick to my wellness and spiritual practices. Although I felt slightly better taking on this new lifestyle, I couldn't - for the life of me - understand why my life hadn’t taken an obvious miraculous turn.

This went on for three years. THREE. YEARS. During which I’d decided a change of scenery was the thing that would suddenly make it all click. Serendipitously, I came across an opportunity to leave the Midwest for a new life in Austin, Texas. Certain this would be the thing that would rocket me into spiritual bliss. With a heart full of hope, I packed up my life and moved to Texas.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

I arrived in Austin under the assumption that it was some sort of spiritual vortex. An old hippie town filled with yogies who maybe smoked a little pot, but couldn't care less about drinking and partying.

Boy, was I wrong. I had absolutely no clue that Austin was, in fact, a hotspot for bachelor and bachelorette parties and thus had not one, but two, popular drinking districts in the center of the city. At the time, Austin had also been recently established as a young tech town, which meant it was brimming with young professionals who had money to spend.

Unsurprisingly, I fell right back into a replica of my previous work-hard, play-hard routine. At the same time, I doubled down on my spiritual work. I ordered my own copy of the metaphysical text, A Course In Miracles, and began slowly reading through the lessons. I started practicing Kundalini yoga, and excitedly booked a retreat with my teacher, Gabby Bernstein, in person. A retreat which I showed up to, ironically, hungover.

And yet, I could not come up with any intelligent reason why my life still felt slightly off. I’d moved to an entirely new city, burned down my own life, and started fresh for crying out loud.

I began to worry that there was something wrong with me and that I’d never have the grounded, easeful life I’d begun yearning for.

Little Nudges

Around this same time, I’d started a casual romance with an older man. A mature young woman myself, I thought this was a good move. Certainly, a sophisticated older man would even further accelerate me into the grounded life I was searching for.

Instead, he offered me a bit of wisdom that changed the trajectory of my life, yet again. One evening, while driving home from dinner, he offered a gentle observation, “Amanda,” he said, “I feel like you’re being…calculated,” he chose the word carefully. I sat with his suggestion; he wasn’t wrong. I had, in fact, tried my hardest - in this relationship and as a whole - to be the most palatable, socially acceptable version of myself I could conjure up. What I took from our conversation was that, although he thought I was wonderful, I was not being authentic.

Luckily, I knew there was a book for that: Dr. Brenè Brown’s The Gifts Of Imperfection. I promptly downloaded my copy and enrolled in therapy, for good measure.

Some days later, I found myself at a stoplight, listening to Brenè offer her wisdom on vulnerability and authenticity. She was sharing a conversation with her therapist, who had just told Brenè she had the “pupu platter of addictions.” Brenè goes on to describe how the conversation helped her to get sober.

Sober. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard this idea in my self-help era.

In fact, my two primary teachers, Wayne Dyer and Gabby Bernstein, had also shared that they’d chosen sober lifestyles. You would think that my decision would have been easy: My most revered mentors lived sober lifestyles. Naturally, I should follow suit.

Nope. Sobriety simply did not make sense. I was not addicted to alcohol. I’d witnessed addiction firsthand in my family, but my drinking was nothing like that. I wasn’t in denial. I was living in a timeline where sobriety was still considered a route only pursued by addicts, health nuts, or the super religious. Sobriety didn’t make sense for me.

I even asked my therapist, who gave me the standard screening, and concluded that my drinking was “normal,” but recommended I cut back if it was making me uncomfortable.

Although I dreamed of following in Gabby Bernstein’s footsteps, I revisited her story and was reminded that she had been addicted to alcohol and cocaine. I’d never touched drugs, so I concluded I was in the clear. As my therapist had suggested, I merely needed to figure out moderation.

The Moderation Myth

Try as I might, moderation was no easy feat. I spent way too much time contemplating when and where would qualify as an appropriate occasion to drink. I strategized about how I’d drink less, though my attempts to have “just a few” often turned into having “a few too many”.

With each failed attempt at moderation, my inner knowing got louder and louder, “If you want to live the life you desire,” it said, “You need to get out of your own way.”

Each weekend, I talked myself out of this path. After all, I was young and single and all my friends drank. I feared I would be a social outcast if I abstained.

On New Year’s Eve, 2016, I’d finally had enough. After yet another failed attempt to moderate - which resulted in one of the most brutal hangovers of my life - I committed to kicking the New Year off with a Dry January.

As the story goes, January turned to February, and I decided to remain alcohol-free despite my birthday falling later in the month. My sober birthday was delightful. The celebration was one of the easiest and most drama-free I’d ever experienced. My friends honored my decision and I found ways to navigate my social life without drinking. I decided to keep going.

At some point that spring, something profound happened. I was standing in the shower, lathering my hair and listening to a podcast when everything got blurry. It was right there in the shower that my inner guide paid me an overdue visit, “Amanda,” it whispered, “I see you doing big things in this world, but I can’t see you doing them with alcohol in the picture.”

In an instant, I was overcome with tears and felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I crouched on the shower floor trying to regain my composure and make sense of what I’d heard. Although I couldn’t explain it and had only an inkling of what these “big things” were, I also believed this message with every ounce of my being.

It was on that day that I decided I was never drinking alcohol again.

When It Finally Clicked

This is when my life began to pivot in big ways. Suddenly, the wisdom that I’d spent the past three years trying to absorb simply clicked in a way it hadn’t been able to in the past.

I felt lighter, more hopeful, more me. And though my life didn’t transform into doves and rainbows overnight, the miraculous life I desired finally felt fully within reach.

With alcohol out of the way, I began embodying the messages I’d spent years reading about. I had a felt sense of what I’d only understood on the intellectual level previously. Finally, finally, it was all clicking into place. I was living - as Gabby called it - a life beyond my wildest dreams…and things hadn’t even gotten good yet.

Suddenly,  I was manifesting small material gifts, professional opportunities, and personal connections. I was feeling inspired, creative, and hopeful. It was as if the exact people, situations, and resources I needed to nudge me into the next phase of my journey would show up in the blink of an eye.

Sheepishly, I started a new social medial account and blog to share about my spiritual awakening and sober curiosity.

Before long, I’d ammassed a following of other smart, sensitive, spiritual women who’d started to have the same sense: Alcohol was holding them back and ever so subtly keeping them from reaching their full potential.

This Is For You

Whether you’re in the midst of your own spiritual awakening or another big life transition - often known by other names such as ego death, Saturn Returns, or an identity or midlife crisis - and you’re starting to sense that your relationship with alcohol is keeping you stuck, I’m so glad you’ve found this essay.

It is my mission and deepest desire to help powerful women like you wake up to the life that is available to you if you choose to live fully awake and undiluted.

My purpose is not to demonize alcohol, but rather to help you romanticize the powerful life that I know is waiting for you. This path is not for everyone. I am also not here to persuade or browbeat anyone into pursuing sobriety. No, I am merely here to be a gentle guide for anyone who feels like I once felt: As though a miraculous life is just within reach and that you are the only thing holding yourself back.