“It’s complicated.”
Back in the dating days, “it’s complicated” was a way to describe your relationship status. Were you dating, were you not? Was it complicated, was it not? Had you progressed to officially dating, to engagement, to marriage?
I imagine this status still exists to some extent on social media, even if I’m completely out of the dating loop and need the rest of society to fill me in current descriptive norms.
But one thing that is marked by “it’s complicated” in my life is drinking.
Exacerbated by the pandemic, I am on a journey of redefining my relationship with alcohol. For now, it means not drinking at home, unless we have people over; more often than not, it means reaching for a cup of a tea or a can of sparkling water more than a Mason jar of wine.
Although there’s so much more I could say about my own story, the focus of today’s post is on a book and a person who’ve helped me out along the way.
’s new book, Sober Spirituality, is nothing short of a gift. And I have a feeling this priest’s wisdom and wit might be just what you need as well.Enjoy!
Cara Meredith: How are you coloring outside of the lines, all over again, when it comes to your writing and this book in particular?
Erin Jean Warde: It's funny to think about coloring outside of the lines in terms of my first book, Sober Spirituality, because I'm so passionate about destroying lines when it comes to how we understand recovery and healing. Certainly, there are some deep truths not to be abandoned, but when I think of coloring outside the lines, I first think of the assumptions we tend to have about sobriety, addiction, recovery, and even just healing more generally, and how I want to push us into an expansive spirit of desiring healing for all people, regardless of how an individual's healing takes form. But I wouldn't be so passionate about this if I had not had my own harsh lines, obstructing my view of healing at times, which were often assumptions I had to reckon with in order to heal myself and truly desire this healing for all people.
As for me personally, I'm learning and growing through the consistent work of recovery. There's the whole "I do not drink alcohol" part of it, but the not drinking alcohol part opened me up to deeper facets of healing that I'm working my way through, with the knowledge there are even more facets of healing I don't even know exist yet. So, I speak as someone who is sober, but I also speak as someone who understands her sobriety is not finished, and instead, ever evolving, less like a decision and more like the mechanics of breathing.
Cara Meredith: Putting ourselves out there when it comes to storytelling always feels a little scary. How was publishing scary and perhaps even vulnerable for you?
Erin Jean Warde: This is a vulnerable book, about a deeply stigmatized topic. But also because I tend to think most art is risky, generally speaking.
To be more specific, allowing even part of this to be memoir-style was the riskiest part. Certainly, I could write a well researched book about sobriety and spirituality and remove my story from its pages. But if I did that, how would I help people feel less alone? How would I help people try to find themselves in someone else's story?
If I had written a sanitized book without my story in it, it wouldn't be offered inside my integrity. I want this book to be received as loving and encouraging, yet difficult when it comes to things that are necessarily difficult, but without judgment or inducing shame. I knew I couldn't even attempt that without sharing my story, because I wanted to try to help people see that I offer this as someone who struggled, too, not as one pronouncing judgment. I'm sharing out of my journey, welcoming others to join me on the path.
Cara Meredith: What is your heart, your intention, the real push behind writing this book?
Erin Jean Warde: Sober Spirituality comes out of a hope that we might, as spiritual communities and individuals, open up our consciousness about the reality of alcohol in our world, and how alcohol affects us in mind, body, and soul. I was in church ministry for 7.5 years, but when I got sober I joined an online community of mostly people who don't go to church. I didn't realize until I got into my sobriety community how much those issues weren't being discussed in church. It was night and day. Aside from just my own sober path and the spiritual awakening it allowed in my life, I had become so burdened by the enormous death toll caused by alcohol, but realized it was unspoken of in my church communities. And it's not abnormal - we all get siloed in our communities! - but I knew how impactful it was for me to bridge the gap between the two worlds, and I wanted to try to bridge the gap for others too. I also have a different path to sobriety, and one that is as spiritual as it is practical, so I hoped this book might allow some people who otherwise feel disconnected from sobriety or sober curiosity to read it and nod, murmuring, "me too." The books that stay with me are always the books that lead to me furiously highlighting them with a nod, and a murmured "me too." I think we all need to try to find ourselves in a story that isn't our own, to take some of the edge off the loneliness of pain, so maybe the only upside-down idea I'd like to turn right side up again is that there are people who fall outside of the possibility of healing their relationships with alcohol. No matter who you are, you can find yourself in the story.
Cara Meredith: Okay. We talk so much about audience when it comes to book-writing, but what did you learn about yourself along the way?
Erin Jean Warde: I have ADD/ADHD! Not a joke, I was diagnosed late in life (mid 30s) and part of the impetus to ask the question came from the daunting task of writing a book. It was wild to work through the newness of my neurodivergence while writing a book at the same time. In some ways, it helped me, because I knew why things were hard, and I'd started gathering up tools to try to work well on this task while honoring the reality of my brain. At other times, I got frustrated with myself, wishing I had explored the question of whether or not I had it earlier in my life, because maybe then I would have started writing the book with a bunch of tools in place to support me. But, pushing past the frustration, I'm also really proud that I navigated the newness of this realization about myself and wrote a book at the same time. Now to keep learning the most supportive tools to help me move forward with this part of myself known.
As far as the writing process is concerned, I learned there really is a method to my madness (see also: I have ADD/ADHD). I struggled with a LOT of writer comparison, after getting an English degree and Creative Writing minor. I had listened to tons of advice about how I needed to write every single day, to make it an event on my calendar, etc. But I didn't write every single day. Not even close. I learned my own way of moving forward. I would book time on my calendar to write, show up without a word in me, and I learned to pivot. I would say: Okay, writing isn't happening right now, what can I shift in my week to move this to another time? So I'd end up moving the writing "event" to a time when I previously had planned to go grocery shopping, and went grocery shopping when I couldn't come up with a word to save my life. I learned I could trust myself to move things around in a way that worked with my brain, and that no one else's advice really mattered, because they weren't writing my book.
Cara Meredith: Anything else from your ordinary, everyday life you want to share with us?
Erin Jean Warde: Probably the biggest thing in my ordinary, everyday life is that - mere months after debuting my first book - I am moving, and the stress and logistics of moving are feeling like a lot right now. I currently live in Austin and I'm headed to Nashville, to be closer to family. While I certainly think of it as stressful and overwhelming, I am celebrating what this move means for me personally, and as a time in my life to start anew. I spend a lot of time visioning what I hope my life will look like there, and in that visioning, I find hope. I wish the logistics part wasn't awful (I hate moving so much!) but as with all the other big leaps I've taken in my life: I trust it will be worth the fear of leaping when I land on the other side.