Before I quit, I was curious

Before I Quit, I Was Curious

For years, I lived by the sea without ever going into it.

Wrapped in layers, hands buried deep in my pockets, still shivering, I used to walk past the cove in Greystones and watch people jump straight into the water.
No hesitation.
No drama.

I thought they were mad.
Truly insane.

And yet… I kept watching.

There’s a funny thing about humans: we rarely do anything for no reason. We are, at our core, motivated by personal gain. Not in a selfish way necessarily — but in a what am I getting from this? way.

Those people weren’t throwing themselves into freezing water for nothing.
They were getting something.

At first, I couldn’t imagine what it was. It certainly wasn’t comfort. Or warmth.

But over time, curiosity crept in.

What do they know that I don’t?

Before I quit drinking, I finally went into the sea. And in the first couple of years of sobriety, I was down there religiously. Not because I loved the cold — I didn’t — but because of what the cold water made me think of myself.

Cold water teaches you something fast:
This isn’t about temperature.
This is about choice.

Jumping into the sea is a decision you make with your whole body screaming don’t. And then you do it anyway. You prove to yourself that you can do hard things. That your mind can make a decision — and your body will stand over it.

That’s not a small thing.

You’ve shown yourself that you are strong.
That you are capable of extraordinary things.
That you don’t always need comfort to survive.

You’ve set a standard:
When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.

No excuses.
No backing out because it feels uncomfortable.

That skill alone changes your life. And it’s a powerful example for children and for anyone watching quietly from the side-lines.

Sobriety started similarly for me.

Before I quit drinking, I started noticing the people who weren’t drinking. I watched them the same way I once watched the sea swimmers. They seemed happy. Grounded. Thriving. They were also getting something from what many would describe as denying themselves.

And that’s where it began.

Not with willpower.
Not with rock bottom.

With curiosity.

A small seed that whispered:
What do they know that I don’t?

That curiosity grew — slowly, quietly — until it became the beginning of a complete change.

Sometimes we don’t quit because we hate something.
Sometimes we quit because we’re curious about what else might be possible.