Not drinking prosecco at breakfast… and everything else that came up

Reflections from a sober holiday, a mirror moment, and a slight panic in paradise

I was going to write something light today.

Just a simple “so grateful to be sober on holiday” post.

You know the one:

Woke up fresh, had a coffee (check out that view)

But then I saw two women strolling past me at breakfast, prosecco in hand…

And instead of rolling my eyes or even feeling smug, I just kind of… unravelled.

Quietly.

Internally.

Messily.

The fresh mornings are lovely, of course.

They really are.

I don’t take for granted the fact that I get to wake up in my body, clear-headed, grounded, and not whispering apologies to the mirror or the minibar.

But the real gratitude goes way deeper.

Because when you’re sober, you feel everything.

Even the stuff you maybe wish you didn’t.

The mirror moments

It’s not that I can’t look at myself anymore.

It’s that sometimes, when I do, I get a little hit of fear.

The lines. The softness. The very human process of… aging.

Not because I hate it.

But because it reminds me I won’t be here forever.

And I so badly want to be.

I love my people with this ferocious tenderness - my mum, my children, my granddaughter, my boyfriend, my friends, my community.

The idea of not being around to witness it all, to show up for every laugh , every life shift, every Sunday dinner, terrifies me more than anything.

Lately, I’ve been quietly wondering how I can get more out of my life, not by blowing it all up or starting over, but by finding more meaning inside the life I already love.

I want to keep showing up for the people I adore. I want to be present at home, in my work, in the everyday magic.

But I also want to feel connected to myself again.

And maybe the answer isn’t some big, dramatic life overhaul.

Maybe I just need to get in the campervan more. (I’m really missing my dog this week too btw, OMG I’m actually gonna be a nightmare when I have to go for two weeks in September)

Maybe I need to sit under a tree with my flask and breathe.

Maybe I need to meditate again, not to become more “zen,” but to remember who I am when the noise quiets down.

Spirituality isn’t always serene

Sometimes, it’s tears over granola.

Sometimes, it’s spiralling gently before your second coffee.

Sometimes, it’s missing someone you love so deeply that your chest physically aches.

Sometimes, it’s not knowing what you want from your life, while still being deeply grateful for the one you have.

And somehow, somehow, it’s all part of the path.

This started as a sober gratitude post…

…but turned into something more. Infact could it be any more adhd haha?

I suppose this is a reminder to myself that sobriety doesn’t mean perfect peace.

It means presence.

And presence, as it turns out, can be messy as hell.

But I’ll take messy and real over numb and distant any day.

So here’s to sober mornings, spirals with soft landings, and remembering that even when we don’t have it all figured out, we really are still exactly where we need to be.

Feet on the ground.

Heart wide open.

And maybe, just maybe… the camper van keys in hand.

With love, realness & maybe a little wanderlust,

Lisa Jo

💛