So here I am. I’m an OG alcoholic and a newly minted New Yorker. I moved here one year ago under unbelievably shitty circumstances in the middle of a pandemic. I was desperately alone and knew, knew for certain, that this was my last go at this. I knew I couldn’t go on as I had and I knew I couldn’t withstand another failed attempt at sobriety—so that didn’t leave me very much room. Looking back, I see how close it was, how touch-and-go; but I stayed sober. I’m not telling you this so that you admire me for being genuine or honest. I’m telling you this as the seemingly-irredeemable architect of a thousand shitty things who managed to find a way out and stay sober. If I can get it to work, you probably can, too. That’s why we tell these stories.
AMAZING STORY. I know that white wine person hiding at the end of the bar in dirty clothes every morning feeling all too well. Watching my legs take me there as something else inside me screamed not to go, but I couldn't not go. "Bleak" I believe you said, is exactly that. 91 days today, and I feel lucky and lovely.
91 Days is a big, fucking deal---congratulations, that's really, really great.
Thank you for that! It's impossible to explain exactly that phenomenon--your brain telling you that this is a horrible idea and the legs not paying any attention. Ugh.
I love this and I admire you for what you have accomplished…. Don’t stop believing! 🤗
TanSuit…
AMAZING STORY. I know that white wine person hiding at the end of the bar in dirty clothes every morning feeling all too well. Watching my legs take me there as something else inside me screamed not to go, but I couldn't not go. "Bleak" I believe you said, is exactly that. 91 days today, and I feel lucky and lovely.
91 Days is a big, fucking deal---congratulations, that's really, really great.
Thank you for that! It's impossible to explain exactly that phenomenon--your brain telling you that this is a horrible idea and the legs not paying any attention. Ugh.
Keep coming back!