Two weeks ago, I was outside a concert at The Moore Theatre in downtown Seattle, begging a 20-something to blow cigarette smoke in my face.
That’s where we’re starting. We’ll get to the jelly sandals.
I’m two weeks shy of 20 years sober. My anniversary is May 1. That means when you’re reading this I’m clocking in at 19 years and roughly 50 weeks. Close enough to taste it. Far enough away that life still gets to hand me a pop quiz every once in a while.
This one came wrapped in rubber.
🎤Listen to this article in Alysse’s voice
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Life Has Been Getting Lifey
I’m launching a new paid membership platform. I’m onboarding new clients for my consulting business. I’m getting my house ready to sell and having strangers walk through my living room on weekends. I’m trying to keep all of these plates spinning without letting a single one crash to the ground. Meanwhile, the news cycle seems to be competing with itself for the Most Demoralizing Headline of the Decade award, and oh right — technically un-employed, which hits different on a Tuesday afternoon.
I have not been meditating. I haven’t done my morning prayer in easily a week. My mom, by the way, is the gold standard on this. Every time I stay at her house I find her in her chair at sunrise, deep into her Bible, doing the thing I keep promising myself I’ll get back to. I don’t know anyone else on this planet with her level of discipline.
Me? I’ve been skipping the basics. The stuff I know works every single time. Prayer. Meditation. Gratitude list. Conscious contact. I know the assignment. I just haven’t been doing the homework.
Enter: A Capri Cigarette
A couple of weeks ago, I went to Amplify Courage, the awareness concert for Stand for Courage, an anti-bullying nonprofit that gets programming into schools around the country, run by one of my dearest friends. Good cause. Good night. I was there for all the right reasons.
After the show a bunch of people I know were standing outside smoking, including my best friend Sarah’s daughter Elizabeth, who flew in from New York for the weekend. Elizabeth is That Girl. Cool, fashion-forward, smoking long skinny Capris like it’s 1998 and she’s a background extra in a Sofia Coppola film.
I quit smoking over a decade ago. I have asthma. I have COPD. I have a heart condition. There is not a single doctor on earth who would cosign me picking a cigarette back up.
Reader, I kept asking her to blow the smoke in my face.
I had just finished watching the Hulu show “Love Story” about JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette, in which every character smokes constantly and glamorously, which absolutely did not help. So there I was outside the concert, begging a 20-something to exhale nicotine in my direction until I finally caved and said, “fine, just give me one.”
One Capri. That was it.
It has been two weeks and I cannot stop thinking about smoking. Every day. Sometimes more than once a day. I have almost driven to get a pack more times than I want to admit. I’ve talked about it in my home group and phoned a friend to talk me off the smokers’ ledge. I haven’t picked up another one. I’m not going to. I’m not going to. I’m not going to.
So I Did What A Sober Woman Does. I Shopped.
I’m on a weight loss journey, so the binge-eating lane is closed. I’m not going to smoke. I’m obviously not going to drink or use. The TikTok algorithm has been hand-feeding me these jelly sandals for months, and I finally broke.
I ordered one pair. They arrived.
Friends, they felt like cigarettes for my feet.
They were so cute and so comfortable that within about four minutes of putting them on I was on Amazon ordering the exact same style in a different color. Two pairs. Under control. Everything’s fine. I’ve got this.
Six Pairs. In One Week. Your Honor, I Plead Guilty.
I don’t know exactly what happened. Somewhere between pair two and pair three I lost the plot entirely and woke up with a cardboard castle of jelly sandal boxes in my entryway.
Cushion Air, two pairs. A Hunter pair. Three others by brands I have never heard of. All affiliate-linked at the bottom of this article because your girl was not going to go through a shoe bender and not at least invoice it.
Then I escalated. I found a pair of the Cushion Air jelly Birkenstock situation in a color the brand calls Whiskey.
Let that sink in.
The color is called Whiskey. I am 19 years sober. I bought them immediately.
(I see what my subconscious is doing. My subconscious does not care.)
I sent them to my friend Lane Kennedy, who is a contributor here at The Sober Curator and lives in San Francisco. Lane is in long-term recovery. Twenty-nine years sober. She has been going through a hard stretch, and I thought — what better way to check on a woman who has walked through nearly three decades without a drink than to overnight her a pair of shoes named after one?
She loved them. Obviously.
And that’s when I realized what I was doing. I was on a bender. A full rubber bender. And I wanted her to come with me. I was the pusher. Sober women going through it, dealing it to each other in jelly and rubber, at 48-hour shipping speed.
The color is called Whiskey, y’all. We didn’t stand a chance.
This Is The Messy Middle
It doesn’t matter how much time you have. Life is still going to get lifey. Stress is still going to come for you. And if you are not handing it over to whatever your higher power looks like, or doing the basic maintenance that you know keeps you right, you are going to have weird reactions to it.
Mine just happens to look like six pairs of jelly sandals and a low-grade fever dream about long, skinny cigarettes.
Is this as bad as drinking? No. Is this as bad as smoking a pack a day, or a binge of any of the other things I used to reach for? No. The consequences of buying too many jelly sandals are significantly more manageable than the consequences of any of those other choices. My credit card might disagree. My feet do not.
But the mechanism is the same. Stress in. Something soothing out. That’s the deal. That’s always been the deal.
Stress in. Something soothing out. That’s the deal. That’s always been the deal.
Alysse Bryson
Nineteen years and 50 weeks in and I still have to watch it. That is what long-term sobriety actually looks like. Not a perfect Instagram grid of green juice and gratitude journals. A real woman with a real body and a real life, spinning a lot of sober plates, occasionally ordering six pairs of jelly sandals off Amazon, and still not drinking over any of it.
This is the messy middle. This is wild. This is hard. This is stressful.
And you can look good while you walk your talk in your jelly sandals.
Your Turn
What’s your equivalent? What do you buy, collect, organize, rearrange, overdo, or obsess over when stress comes in hot and the old coping mechanisms are off the table? Drop it in the comments. I need to know I am not the only one loading up a digital cart at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday.
And if you want to hang with more sober plate-spinners who get it, come find us at BACKSTAGE. We have a well-known Seattle stylist coming in June to talk to members about how to actually get dressed in this phase of life, which feels extremely relevant to the current moment over here.
XOXO AB
The Jelly Sandal Lineup
All six pairs, affiliate-linked. Yes, all six. And for those of you with flaring PTSD from the jelly shoes of your childhood – they have evolved! They do not smell and I have yet to get any blisters.
CUSHIONAIRE Pool Slides — Whiskey
CUSHIONAIRE Pool Slides — Clear (I’m still thinking about the champagne color, because hello, champagne.)
Lurnyet Clear Jelly Mesh Slide Sandals
Melissa Possession Platform II Jelly Sandals
Additional Articles on Cross-Addictions:
- From Barstools to Boundaries: America’s Social Worker Kelley Kitley Gets Real About Sobriety
- 10 Tips On Navigating Shopping Situations In Early Sobriety & 6 Tips Dealing With Shopping Addiction
SOBER ENTERTAINMENT: BACKSTAGE with The Sober Curator Is Open — And These 200 Founding Member Spots Won’t Last
God, grant us the serenity to #ADDTOCART! Sober retail therapy is our favorite kind of workout—mindful, fun, and community-focused. In this section, you’ll discover unique sobriety gifts, premium recovery swag, and must-have merch we can’t stop raving about. We love featuring small businesses founded by people in recovery, sober creators, and brands that champion mental health and the sober lifestyle. From #QUITLIT reads to stylish glassware and meaningful recovery keepsakes, our curated picks make every purchase a celebration of sober living.
Shop our classic Sober Curator merch on SHOPTHESOBERCURATOR.COM for and explore our TSC Amazon Storefront featuring curated lists packed with gifts, books, and sober essentials.
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Q1: Can you still have cravings after 20 years of sobriety?
Yes. Anyone who tells you cravings are over at some magic year number is selling something. Almost 20 years in, I still have moments where stress knocks on the door and my brain reaches for something familiar to take the edge off. The difference at this point is awareness. I notice the reach. I name it. And I don’t act on it.
Q2: What are replacement addictions or transfer behaviors in recovery?
Replacement or transfer behaviors are what happens when you stop one coping mechanism and pick up another. Classic examples include shopping, food, work, sex, social media, or overexercising. They fill the same nervous system role as a drink or a drug. They are not always catastrophic, but the mechanism is identical. Stress in. Something soothing out. The job in long-term recovery is to spot it in yourself before it runs the show.
Q3: Is retail therapy a sign of relapse?
Not inherently. Buying a thing because it makes you happy is not the same as relapse. But when the shopping starts to look and feel like a bender, when one pair becomes six in a week, when you’re sending pairs to your friends like a dealer handing out free samples, it’s worth paying attention to. Ask yourself what you are actually trying to soothe. That question matters more than the credit card bill.
Q4: How do sober people manage stress without drinking or using?
Honestly, the stuff that works is unsexy. Prayer. Meditation. Gratitude lists. Moving your body. Talking to another sober person. Making contact with a higher power, whatever that looks like for you. The trap is that stress is exactly when you skip the basics. You tell yourself you don’t have time. You tell yourself you’ll get back to it next week. And that is almost always the moment a weirder coping mechanism slides into the vacancy.
Q5: What should you do if you slip on something small, like smoking one cigarette, after years sober?
Don’t panic and don’t pretend it didn’t happen. A slip on a non-primary substance, like having one cigarette after years of not smoking, is not the same as a full relapse, but it is information. Your brain will want to chase it. Notice the chase. Name it out loud to someone safe. Get your basic maintenance back in place. One cigarette doesn’t have to become a pack, and one moment of stress doesn’t have to become a bender on anything else.
