I Am 14 Years Sober

A few thoughts/feelings

*This was something I wrote for friends and family on May 17th, my actual sobriety birthday, that I’m sharing here, unedited*

I am 14 years sober today. Right now. The plan is to stay sober tomorrow, but we’ll see what happens then. I am loved and supported, and I can do it, but, as they say, one day at a time. I cannot wrap my head around 14 years, and I find that comforting because, 14 years ago, I did not think I could last a week without a drink. I truly despaired. How can a person feel everything? And survive? But a few days turned into seven and then seven more, and with the help of Gatorade and countless hot dogs nuked in the microwave and the Tori Amos' Little Earthquakes -- and friends and fellow ex-drunks and meetings in windowless rooms -- I learned how to hope. It’s pretty simple: you breathe. You walk. You tell him you love him. You call her and tell her she’s on your mind. You own your fuckups and share your victories, no matter how small or fragile. You listen. You sing. You pray. The universe wants to hear from you. You share memes and 'heart' every photo because why not? You say "yes" to things that scare you, like picnics, vegan empanadas, and contra dancing. You don’t "face your fears." You tackle them, tickle them. You wear your fears like a giant sombrero. You wear that giant sombrero proudly. It’s so colorful. Unweildly…