Estimated read time: 10 min
In the early days of my sobriety, there was a lot of talk about the “pink cloud” newcomers ride into the rooms. Like most of the recovery sayings I had heard at that time, I didn’t really quite understand what the term “pink cloud” was in reference to.
When I did hear the phrase, it was typically paired with a knowing glance to an old-timer, a sarcastic chuckle, and a tone that doesn’t exactly exude optimism and positivity.
All I knew was that I was baffled by yet another thing about being sober.
What the hell is a pink cloud?
What I need you to understand is that the way my brain works, when someone said pink cloud… all I envisioned was a fluffy bundle of pastel-pink, cotton candy piled high on a paper cone. You know, the type you used to beg your parents for at the town fair or later shared with your high school sweetheart back in the day. Yeah, that one.
Imagine my confusion when, after just having landed squarely on my ass at rock bottom, a bunch of sober alcoholics were talking about a pink cloud, and the only mental image I could conjure up was a bundle of beautifully pink, cotton candy.
If you’ve been around the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous for any length of time, you’ve probably heard many a story referencing this supposed “pink-cloud phenomenon” that many newcomers to the program are plagued with.
If not, a quick google search or inquiry to your local old-timer, and you’ll learn that the phrase “pink cloud” is used to describe strong feelings of elation or euphoria experienced by those newly sober. Essentially, it’s the honeymoon phase.
Ironically enough, however, the word, phrase, or phenomenon of this notorious pink-cloud syndrome is not mentioned a single time in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.
In any case, being the arrogant, overachieving 20-year-old I was at the time, I was dead-set on avoiding this pink cloud everyone was talking about. I would not give these people the satisfaction of being amused at my expense; I was smarter and more evolved than that (HA!).
As I attended meetings and other A.A. sanctioned events, I watched and listened to those in the rooms who had put a few 24-hours under their belts. I didn’t relish in the fact that I was a newcomer; especially considering that at the time, in my home group, there seemed to be this unspoken rule that newcomers would inevitably relapse, and have spotty attendance before disappearing altogether, never to be seen or heard from again.
Now, to be fair, several of the newcomers who came in around the same time had done exactly that; in defense of the old-timers it wasn’t exactly an out-of-left-field opinion. However, I wasn’t about to let that be my story. No sir, not me!
So, I watched, and I listened, and I watched some more. Somehow, they had finally gotten it through my thick skull that, “I couldn’t think my way into living sober, I had to live my way into sober thinking.” A fancy way of saying you have to walk-the-walk before you can truly talk-the-talk.
After stringing sixty days, ninety days, and finally closing in on my sixth-month clean and sober, I became a little more confident in myself and in my sobriety. I would still hear about this pink-cloud thing from time-to-time, though, and I was still unsure of what it meant.
I grew increasingly more and more confused, frustrated, and curious. “When is my pink cloud coming?” I began to wonder. “It actually doesn’t sound all that bad; I wouldn’t mind a few weeks of uninhibited bliss and naiveté about life in sobriety!”
Amidst all my watching and listening to those with time in sobriety, I also got to hear from a few other newcomers like myself. This one gentleman, a younger guy about ten years older than me, had come into the rooms from the same treatment center I had attended. Granted, he went to treatment first and then to A.A, where I had taken the reverse route, but that’s beside the point.
This guy was about forty days or so ahead of me in terms of days sober, and he was like a kid in a candy shop, practically giddy at every meeting where I saw him.
He, like myself, had gotten a sponsor and was working the steps. He, like me, was attending as many meetings as possible since leaving treatment. He, like me, showed up to meetings early and stayed late.
The only notable difference I could detect was that he seemed so much more confident about being sober. He chatted easily with old-timers, gave encouraging advice and tips to fellow newcomers, and shared at just about every meeting with confidence. It was as though he had been sober for years. I often found myself wondering, how the hell does he do that?
Perhaps you’re thinking, “now wait just a minute, isn’t this the same chick who wrote about the importance of identifying and not comparing?” Yes. Yes, I am. BUT, in my defense, I was only just learning that concept at the time this story took place.
Luckily for me, I lived with an old-timer from my home group. He was and always will be much more than that to me and many others, but that is another story for another day. For now though, we’ll call him Irvin. Irvin was an older gentleman, friendly, generous, caring, funny with a twisted sense of humor, and a great listener.
We’d chat on the front porch of his home from sunrise until sunset, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. We’d talk about everything under the sun, in between bathroom breaks, coffee refills, and Dateline at 3 pm.
One day as we were chatting, I gathered up the nerve to ask him about that guy from our home group. I cautiously broached the subject. I wanted to be careful about how I asked this question; I certainly did not want him to think that I was trying to gossip or, worse, think that I was interested in the guy…. romantically.
I kept it casual. Cool as a cucumber… NOT!
Between trying to find the right words and incorporate the question naturally into our conversation, I sort of just blurted out, “So what’s the deal with that John guy?” (For purposes of anonymity, John is not the guy’s real name.)
Irvin burst into a fit of laughter, punctuated by his smoker’s cough that was 70+ years in the making. He quieted down, took a look at his cigarette, which was no longer lit, took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, and paused briefly. “That, baby girl, (as he always liked to call me) is what we call the pink cloud, and [John] is on it about as good as anyone can be.”
I nodded along as if I knew exactly what Irvin was talking about. I, of course, did not know what he was talking about.
Naturally, being the good, stubborn alcoholic that I am, I asked no further questions. I did, however, learn what this John guy had that was so different from me… a pink cloud. Now, all I had to do was figure out how to nab one of those suckers for myself!
Finally, at an evening meeting one night, there was a smaller crowd, split pretty evenly between newcomers (less than a year) and more experienced (2+ years) A.A’s. Somehow or another, the mention of the pink cloud came up again.
I was ready this time by golly! I wasn’t leaving this meeting until I figured out exactly how to get this pink cloud that people had been promising me I’d have.
The chair introduced the topic, shared his own experience, strength, and hope with the rest of us, and opened up the meeting. Not yet confident enough to be the first one to speak, I waited patiently for the right time to jump in, add my two cents, and ask my questions.
The first person spoke up, a woman with about a year or so chimed in on the topic of “the pink cloud” and how she had experienced it so far. She finished her share, and the room was silent for a minute. My plan to time my share perfectly went to hell in a handbasket when the chairperson called my name to share.
“Shit,” I thought as I fumbled about for the right words to say, my confidence quickly fading. “My name is Nina, and I’m an alcoholic….”
I swear everyone could hear the crickets chirping while waiting for me to finally speak again, “I guess I’m still waiting on my pink cloud because I wouldn’t say that sobriety has been a basket full of roses for me yet… with that, I pass.”
To my surprise and relief, a few people chuckled, and some even nodded their heads. I continued to listen for the rest of the meeting. I actually learned a lot about pink clouds that night, more than I thought I would…
The longer I stay sober, the better understanding I gain about this pink-cloud thing.
Essentially what I learned that night, and what I continue to learn even now, is that the entire time during early sobriety, perhaps even all throughout my first-year sober, I was on the pink cloud.
Sobriety is funny like that, constantly linking one slogan to another because my frustration could have been avoided with the application of yet another classic slogan. You guessed it, “identify don’t compare.” (Check out my other post to get in the inside scoop on this concept!)
Everyone gets the privilege of riding the pink cloud, whether we realize it at the time or not. Just like the path that leads each of us to sobriety, our paths on the journey of sobriety are different for everyone.
John had a loving spouse and a young child at home when he returned after treatment, a job that took him back immediately, and his biggest hurdle was not drinking each day. My journey looked different; I was homeless, unemployed, and a college dropout. Maybe my pink cloud was not as neon pink or as abundantly obvious as John’s was, but, I too, was excited to be starting a life in sobriety.
That’s all the pink cloud is. Early sobriety is a very sensitive and vulnerable time. As newly sober alcoholics, we should be careful, monitor our expectations, and try not to bite off more than we can chew, but it’s not inherently a negative thing.
I think we’re so often warned about the pink cloud because once sobriety becomes the new normal, we crave the same excitement or highs we found in early sobriety, but the pink cloud is like being a kid at an amusement park for the first time. In early sobriety, everything is new, bright, and shiny, and you’re ready to start exploring to see what this new way of life holds; it’s not a bad idea to have a sober adult to help guide you along the way to make sure you don’t miss the really cool stuff or get lost.
Long story short: if you’re new to sobriety and you’re waiting on your pink cloud to roll in… it’s already here. You’re on it. If you know you’re on a pink cloud and you’re scared to fall off of it, just breathe; it’s going to be okay. The pink cloud is a rite of passage; listen to your sponsor, follow the suggestions, and know that, like all things in life, this too shall pass.
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