Photo by Sergio Alves Santos/Unsplash
I despise change.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about new technology and the new hot spot restaurant; I regularly search out new music, and traveling to new cities is one of my favorite things in life. But new and change can be very different things.
I’ve been married for almost 20 years, we’ve lived in our home in Church Hill for 14 years — hell, I just managed a substantial change to the menu at Comfort, my first restaurant, after 15 years of business, and that change only came about after lots of prodding over the course of a year from my partner, Michele Jones. No, change is not something that comes naturally to me. But when I hit an all-time low last year, I realized that I needed to seriously rethink my lifestyle.
After 25-plus years of hard drinking, the booze had finally gotten the best of me. My daily routine had turned into a virtual laundry list of bad decision-making. I was driving under the influence on a regular basis, I was causing serious stress for those closest to me and I was showing no leadership in my position as a chef and as an owner. I found myself in a place that I suppose I knew was inevitable, but had ignored for years; I was dangerously close to losing everything that mattered to me.
We are surrounded by the very thing that we are trying to avoid.
A life without alcohol is a huge change for anyone who contends with alcoholism, and for those of us in the hospitality industry, the challenge can seem insurmountable. We are surrounded by the very thing that we are trying to avoid. Our livelihoods quite literally depend on the sale of the stuff. For a person horrified by change, this was daunting.
I spent the better part of last fall and winter dipping my toe into a sober life. I wouldn’t drink at work or at home, but then a business trip would present itself, and the “amnesty days” started to increase. I was soon back to sneaking around to drink, lying to the very people who were determined to help me get on track. The shame cycle was upon me — feeling ashamed that I had gotten drunk, getting drunk to cope and so on. After a particularly nasty panic attack caused by drinking to excess while on antidepressants, I hit bottom. I knew I had to be done with alcohol.
I leaned on my family, my partners, my therapist and every sober friend I could find those first few weeks. The thought of going to work and facing my extremely well-stocked bars was overwhelming. I had obligations to represent the restaurants at wine and food festivals, perhaps the drunkest places on earth.
But my support group gave me the courage to be the best representative of our staff and restaurants that I can be.
I wasn’t at all sure that it would work, but facing the possibility of a new career along with recovery was too much to take on.
I am happy to say that I am sitting here writing this looking directly at the bar at Flora, and I’m quite content with my club soda. The industry that I love, and that damn near killed me, is still one that gives me joy and fulfillment. And as a benefit of being sober, I actually remember all of the reasons that I started this career in the first place. The love of food, the joy of seeing happy guests and the rush of a service well run are all still there, and they feel more rewarding than ever.
As anyone who has started the addiction recovery process can tell you, there are ups and downs, days that are easier than others, and all sorts of challenges.
Triggers are everywhere. When you give up something that has been a near constant in your life, you have to figure out a different way of living. No more after-shift drinks, no more tasting of that amazing new cocktail your beverage director created, and no more social crutch. I drink club soda all day, every day. It has become a prop for me, and it helps. But some days, when everything is going sideways, you just have to muscle through and know that you will be better for it.
Seven months into recovery, I have found that change, although scary, is inspiring. My wife, Mercedes Schaum, is about to give birth to our fourth child — the due date is Oct. 22, one day before my 44th birthday. It will be the first birth that I experience sober. As embarrassing as that is to say, I welcome the process with an open heart, and an apologetic one. When Bingo opens in Scott’s Addition early next year, I will experience my second restaurant opening without hangovers (and sixth all together). I still wake up sore, old and sometimes depressed, but without a cloud of alcohol and shame. That is worth the difficult times.
Embracing this change has inspired me to see the potential in change as a whole. I’ve started exercising. I am in the early stages of starting a musical project. I finally launched the damn new menu at Comfort. I plan to follow up this piece by writing an update on how awesome it is to be sober for a year, two years and many more. I look forward to a life lived with more clarity and honesty. Shit, I just am really looking forward to a longer life filled with simple pleasures and new adventures. And I am looking forward to more changes along the way. Sort of.
Jason Alley is a chef and co-owner of the restaurants Comfort, Pasture, Flora, The Paulie and the soon-to-open Bingo.
