Keeping Covid Sober: One Isolated Drinker's Journey through a Quarantined Pandemic

By Michele Kenny

Why would a newly sober alcoholic want to write a book?

 

Because a new story desperately needs to be told about how alcoholics can survive and stay sober in this unprecedented time.

 

Author Michele Kenny is a recovering alcoholic who was also an isolated drink

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michele Kenny
• Release date: Jan 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736306314

Michele Kenny

Michele Kenny is a freelance writer and staunch advocate for and supporter of those struggling with alcoholism and other substance use disorders. She has worked alongside alcoholics for over two decades. She is also a recovering alcoholic. In addition to her work with several nonprofit self-help support groups for addiction recovery, Kenny was certified as a Peer Recovery Supporter by the Ohio Department of Mental Health and Addiction Services (OhioMHAS) and is a member of the Central Ohio Rescue and Restore Coalition (CORRC), an organization with a focus on fighting human trafficking. Kenny holds a PhD in Education Policy and Leadership from the Ohio State University. Her articles have been published in AA Grapevine: The International Journal of Alcoholics Anonymous. Keeping Covid Sober is Kenny's first book on COVID-19 and alcoholism. Connect with her or join the conversation at www.voicepatterns.co.

Book preview

Keeping Covid Sober by Michele Kenny

Keeping Covid Sober © 2021 Michele Kenny.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, by photography or xerography or by any other means, by broadcast or transmission, by translation into any kind of language, nor by recording electronically or otherwise, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in critical articles or reviews.

Edited by Sarah Kolb-Williams

Stock images by iStock

eBook development by Kris Tomes

ISBN: 978-1-7363063-1-4

To order, visit https://www.voicepatterns.co.

Reseller discounts available.

It all began with a novel virus called COVID-19,

which would end up sweeping the globe and changing

the nature of the human condition forever.

—M. Kenny

This book is dedicated to the alcoholics and

coronavirus patients who just passed away.

Peace and light.

Contents

Preface

Introduction

Before Muse 1

Muse 1: Social Distancing

10:00 a.m.

2:00 p.m.

Muse 2: Personal Protective Equipment

8:00 p.m.

Muse 3: Ventilators

12:00 a.m.

After Muse 3

Postscript

Pathways to Recovery: Resources to Build Your Recovery

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Preface

This story is told in my own voice. That means it isn’t perfect. But this book is not about the use of correct syntax or perfect inflection. It is a conversation between writer and reader about one isolated drinker’s experiences and struggles with alcoholism during the coronavirus quarantine.

The words are taken directly from journal entries I wrote during the three months the country was on lockdown in spring 2020. My life story has some really ugly parts, and some parts can only be told by using some really ugly words.

I have structured these journal entries around three topics, or Muses, each titled with a major issue the country had to wrestle with at the beginning of the pandemic: social distancing, personal protective equipment (PPE), and ventilators. The similarities I found between COVID-19 and alcoholism are remarkable and important, and I was able to fold many of my journal entries into one of these three categories.

Throughout the writing process, I also discovered coping methods I could add to what can only be described as my flailing recovery program. Some of the strategies I used may not have been the healthiest options, but they worked for me during the quarantine. And in this strange new era we are entering, I want to share all of the tools I used so that they can help other isolated drinkers stay sober too. Not only is confinement the perfect environment for me to relapse, but it is also the ideal setup for alcoholics everywhere to do the same. Therefore, I hope my story is both interesting and useful in helping others stay strong through this challenging time.

At the end of each Muse, I piece together a story that happened during my drinking life as a gesture of trust to the reader that I know from where I speak. The date of the incident is irrelevant. What is important to know is that I speak the same language as every other alcoholic out there. I understand you. I know you. I am you.

My experience with writing is that sooner or later, irony surfaces and demands its place in the story. And in this story, the irony is that the only way for me to protect myself against one disease (COVID-19) was to set up an isolated environment that was ideal for the other (alcoholism).

This is neither an easy nor a light read. This was written during a time when I was scared out of my mind that I was going to drink. Fear drove the writing, and fear is not a fun subject to write about. I ask only that you judge me with kindness.

Introduction

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that this story is written from a biased and prejudiced view, because what I wrote about is based on the perspective of how I see the world. Each one of us has preconceived views of society that were shaped by our childhood rearing and culture. Additionally, I embedded myself in the narrative as both subject and source of the story. That allows a lot of room for dangerously one-sided, partisan writing.

Therefore, I want you to know a little bit about my background to understand the prejudices, biases, and values that affect my writing. Here is a glimpse of the culture I was raised in and currently live in.

decoration

I am a white female who grew up in a predominately white, middle-class neighborhood. I am from the Midwest part of the country. My father was a factory worker, my mother a stay-at-home mom. I have one older brother and one

younger sister.

My primary education, grades 1–12, were completed in Catholic schools. I was a first-generation college student and made it to the degree of PhD. My vocational area of interest is adult learning theory. My professional career was in higher education, both teaching and administration.

I was married to a schoolteacher for nineteen years, and we have children who now are grown. I am retired, nearing sixty, divorced, and living only with my dog, Sadie. I still live in the Midwest, and my home is near the state capital, the culture and arts center of the city, and a Big Ten university.

Ugh! When I read this paragraph, it reminds me of a boring, formal résumé with some noted avocational proficiencies.

But if we were to sit down and have a coffee, the conversation would be quite different. You would learn that I am a conceptual thinker. I like to think holistically, not in terms of details, but in concepts and ideas. When I am talking with someone, I am processing my thoughts out loud, so I tend to talk too much. I have an infinite imagination. I am always interested in your story. My writing style is metaphorical and personified. I can see a world in a grain of sand.

I have a terrible diet. I am clumsy. I do not know how to fix anything, but I do know how to break everything. I am kind. I am a good listener. I am compassionate. You can count on me. You can depend on me to be there for you as best I can. I do not lie anymore.

You would meet the little girl inside me who never really grew up and is afraid of everything. She has gone through phases of self-loathing and feelings of inadequacy.

I am an alcoholic in recovery. I have not contracted COVID-19—yet.

You would find out that I am passionate about everything I do, whether it is buying a vacuum cleaner or writing a book. I am an all-or-nothing girl. And I have an all-or-nothing story to tell.

Before Muse 1

Why would a newly sober alcoholic want to write a book? Because a new story desperately needs to be told about how alcoholics living in this unprecedented time can survive and stay sober. In March 2020, the world got punched in the gut by an unforeseen, seemingly random, and ugly twist of fate. I am referring to the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) that plagued the globe. Just like every other American, I was quarantined in my home for over three months to protect myself and others from getting infected.

Ordinarily, this would be fine, except that forced isolation is absolutely the worst thing you can do to an isolated drinker like me—especially when I only had ten months of new sobriety behind me. Thank you, COVID-19. You became the second alcoholic I had to take care of in the house. I am the first.

I have been an alcoholic for thirty-five years, and I’ve been working a recovery program for nearly twenty of those years. I am the type of alcoholic who constantly wages a silent war against the disease and sometimes loses the battle. Therefore, I have a blemished record. And in 2019, I suffered a major relapse.

Now, due to COVID-19, I was being forced back into the same environment I had barely escaped from just ten short months ago. I was angry. No—I was furious. How could I be expected to stay sober if I were held captive, restricted in my home, knowing it was the ideal situation for me to drink? Was I expected to survive one more time? I felt like I would die of alcoholism if I were forced to stay in this house. It would have been easier for me if someone had just left an open bottle of liquor on the kitchen table.

Social isolation creates anxiety, boredom, stress, depression. As a result, there is an increasingly serious alcohol problem in our nation that we as a population can no longer ignore. There was a 55 percent increase in alcohol sales in March 2020 alone, according to Nielson ratings.¹ This means that alcohol abuse and alcoholism are on the rise. It is imperative that we deal with it, now!

Isolation means time. Lots of time. Having to live with a lot of empty time has always weakened my resolve to stay sober. Empty time drains the energy I need to be vigilant about my recovery because I get bored. I feel like I am going to either go out of my mind or lose it completely, whichever comes first. So, to fill up the new, empty time I knew I would be facing, I needed a project.

I am not good at arts and crafts. My thumbs get in the way if I try to knit or crochet. My hobbies take place outside the house and include people. It is still winter. It is still cold. It is not the right season for outdoor picnicking or landscaping. I did all of the indoor DIY projects to fill up the meaningless time I had in January and February. Sure, my desktop can take me anywhere in the world, but at the end of the day, I’m still sitting here by myself. One interest I have is traveling. I was supposed to go to Portugal this year, but that trip was canceled for obvious reasons. I had to come up with something.

This past summer, when I relapsed, I went to an out-of-town treatment center for five weeks. When I returned home, I participated in a six-week intensive outpatient program (IOP). While I was in treatment, one of the coping mechanisms I was taught to help deal with alcohol cravings was journal writing. I’ve always hated journal writing. I hated it when I had to do it in treatment, and it is still not one of my favorite hobbies. But it was coming down to a narrow choice: either start writing or start drinking.

That’s how I started this stupid diary.

At first, I would sit down at my kitchen counter to write an entry with a whole bunch of space in my head. I didn’t even know what was supposed to go in this thing (when I was in treatment, I wrote nothing but crap just to get the assignment done), so I wrote down anything that came to mind, just to fill up the blank paper with ink.

Initially, I was more concerned about using correct grammar than about content. That got boring fast, so I gave myself permission to lift all grammatical rules and just write the words that came to mind. I started to enjoy writing in my own voice. Nobody was going to read this anyway. Right?

Ever since COVID-19 had ransacked the world, it seemed like the virus was the only thing worth writing about. It was certainly the only subject everybody was talking about. It became a primary motif for my narratives. I decided my journal would cover only the months I was quarantined. That was going to be the most difficult time for me to stay sober anyway.

Every day, I sat at my kitchen counter and wrote something. And the more I wrote on how I felt about what was going on with the virus, the more I became aware that something strange was beginning to take shape on the pages. I started seeing patterns between COVID-19 and alcoholism and discovered a symbiotic relationship between the two!

Through writing, I realized that the virus was forcing me to behave in some of the same ways alcohol had. Just like the booze, the