I got a new job. I’ll be doing the kind of work I want, for the first time. It’ll be great, I guess. I suppose everything is falling into place for me. Another way to look at it is that everything’s changing so fast and can’t it just wait a minute because I’m not sure and I need to think.

I’ve heard of substance abuse treatment programs that encourage clients to change as much as possible about their lives in an effort to break their old habits. I can see how that would work, but change also provides opportunities for regression. My new co-workers won’t know that I don’t drink. I could join them at happy hour and have a few beers and no one would lift an eyebrow. That certainly sounds easier than broaching the sobriety topic with people I’ve just met and I'm anxious to impress.

I had this same opportunity -- or should I call it a danger? -- with my new roommates. Before I briefed them on my drinking history, they would not have found anything strange about seeing me drink. Maybe that’s why I was so anxious to get that conversation out of the way.

So new situations and new people provide a chance for me to remake myself in a variety of directions. Partly for that reason, but also because new things might just not work out, change is risky. Even as I’m forcing myself into taking risks on a new home and a new job, I find myself yearning for the safe, the comfortable and the familiar.

Really, it’s silly for me to whine about how I’m scared of risk. I’ve spent the last ten years drinking myself unconscious and stuffing drugs into every orifice (okay, not my ears). I was so willing to take those risks without even a second thought, yet now I’m questioning myself about leaving a job I know I’ve outgrown. I’ve got to turn and face the strange. But it seems like suddenly everything’s the strange.

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