December 12 — We’re the Can’ts, and That’s Okay
Assuming we’re spiritually fit, we can go anywhere liquor is served. Restaurants, weddings, cookouts, that one cousin’s house where every flat surface is a coaster — we’re allowed in all of it. But only if we’re not there to tease the disease. I heard a guy in a meeting say "I have a two drink limit, you have two drinks, and I'm out."
I used to think sobriety meant avoiding alcohol like it was radioactive. Like I had to scrub the world clean of beer logos and margarita specials just to stay safe. Like every bottle had a sniper scope on me. But that’s not the deal. We’re not here to ban alcohol, protest alcohol, or remodel the world to be AA-friendly. That’s not spiritual fitness — that’s spiritual paranoia with a gym membership.
The truth is way simpler: there are people who can drink, and there are people who can’t. Some people have the normally installed "off switch", some don't. That’s it. No moral ranking. No shame. No “I’m better than them because I don’t drink” nonsense. They’re the cans. We’re the can’ts. Owning that has saved my life more times than any rule, slogan, or motivational poster ever did.
Because once I stopped trying to negotiate with alcohol — stopped testing myself, stopped pretending I could “hang out with it” like we were still cool — everything got lighter. Spiritually fit doesn’t mean I’m bulletproof. It means I’m honest about where my feet are and what my disease does when it smells opportunity.
I don’t avoid places because there’s alcohol there. I avoid situations where I’m not right. When I’m tired, resentful, lonely, spiritually empty, or just trying to prove something. If I’m solid inside, I can be anywhere, as long as I have good reason to be there.
So yeah — some people can drink. Some people can’t. I’m a can’t. And accepting that doesn’t shrink my world. It frees it.
What helps you recognize the difference between being spiritually fit enough to be somewhere… and being somewhere you just don’t belong today?
