I am Dorothy—singing Over the Rainbow as I reach for my glass of wine, hoping it will melt my troubles like lemon drops. Carry me to a place where dreams come true, as if I even knew what those dreams were. They had been abandoned long ago, traded for a fleeting rainbow each night, only to wake again to a life painted in variations of gray.
At some point, the weather in my gray life became tumultuous, and I was picked up in a tornado and transported somewhere entirely new, where a beautiful Yellow Brick Road lay before me.
The tornado didn’t destroy me. It transported me.It was what my life coach calls a day of reckoning – that moment when life frightens us enough to finally change yet offers hope at the same time.
As a child, I watched The Wizard of Oz through the cracks between my fingers, equal parts terrified and fascinated. Maybe that’s how many of us begin this journey: scared and curious at the same time.
And there beside me was Toto. He never questioned the road. He never asked how long it would take or whether we’d make it. He simply stayed close and kept walking. Maybe Toto is faith. Maybe he’s hope. Neither was fully developed in me when I began this journey, but somehow, they never left my side.
For years, I believed alcohol was the Wizard. It convinced me I was smarter when I doubted myself. It made me feel loved when I felt alone. It gave me courage to say what I couldn’t otherwise say. It convinced me it was giving me power that had been mine all along.
Then, the next morning, it quietly took it back. And I was left feeling smaller and emptier than the day before. The Wizard would whisper to me throughout the day, promising it still held the answer. And it did – for about twenty minutes.
Without realizing it, I had placed my faith in the Wizard instead of myself and God, even though somewhere deep inside I knew this wasn’t the path I was meant to walk. So I stepped onto the Yellow Brick Road and traveled one brick at a time.
Sometimes the Wine Witch would swoop in and tempt me, and sometimes I followed her. Other times she’d circle overhead while Toto nudged me forward, reminding me not to look back – just keep walking.
Then Glinda would quietly appear, not to rescue me, but to remind me there had never been anything wrong with me. Alcohol was simply doing what alcohol does. It was an illusion, dressed up beautifully promising relief from my gray life and calm from the storms swirling around me.
Along the road, I met fellow travelers through Sober Sis, an alcohol-free community for women. Like me, they believed they were broken. We had all gone to the Wizard looking for answers. But as we walked together, we discovered something.
The women ahead of us on the path weren’t handing us courage, wisdom, or strength. They were helping us recognize that we’d had them all along, just like the Lion, the Tin Man, and the Scarecrow.
We stopped worrying so much about reaching the Emerald City and began noticing the journey itself. The tornado quieted. The gray slowly gave way to color, not overnight, but almost without noticing.
We stopped searching for somewhere over the rainbow because, little by little, we realized we were already finding what we’d been looking for: the freedom to simply be our true selves.
The Wizard promised magic. The Yellow Brick Road promises nothing except another step. But in the end it is the road, not the Wizard, that changes us.
Dorothy spent the entire journey trying to find her way home, only to discover that what she needed to get there had been with her all along.
Maybe that’s the lesson for me, too. There’s no place like home. And perhaps home was never a place I needed to find. Perhaps it was myself, just my authentic self, without alcohol.
By Contributor: Karen Mollor
Karen Mollor is an accountant-turned-question-asker, certified nutrition coach, and women’s fitness specialist exploring alcohol-free living, wellness, identity, and the unexpected turns of midlife.
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