The 12 best things about 1200 days sober
some may surprise you, as they did me
Click play to hear me read this post in my own voice.
A sober buddy reminded me that it’s our 1200th day sober today (thanks, Kevin, and cheers to us, man, who’d have fucking thought, right—and also Christopher Robin, I know it’s your day too—we did it you guys, we’re here) and what struck me first was that I hadn’t realized it was my 1200th day. I had stopped counting somewhere between day 1,000 (what up, comma club) and when my medical condition got worse and life became a lot to physically and mentally manage.
But also, what that means is that my recovery is so ingrained in me, it has become such a steady reliable part of my makeup that I rely on it like I do breathing. You know that feeling of holding your breath? How in just a few seconds or minutes, you notice that you need air? That’s my sobriety. I can feel the pressure building when I have forgotten what matters more than anything else: presence of mind, consciousness of body, and firmness of focus.
Maybe you read Dry Humor Me because you are sober. Or in recovery. Or because you know someone who is and you want to understand what recovery means so you can understand them better. Maybe you just like to read other people’s stories of personal struggle, triumph, and hope. No matter why you are here, I want you to know that you and your presence here alongside me fortifies my commitment to stay sober and to share about it. I cannot tell you how grateful I am or how very much it matters to me. To me specifically because this is what I’m made of—writing, expression, and desire to share. And this is what I need—to know I’m not alone, to know I am supported, to feel that who I am and what I do matters.
These are not only the wants and needs of a sober person, of a person in recovery, of a writer, of an artist. These are universal human wants and needs. This is basic stuff, but it gets pummeled by the demands of the world. It gets muted by the outside influences that scream and beg and claw at our attention.
So today I wanted to say thank you. I want to say thank you every day but you’d probably unsubscribe because that would be too many emails even if they are nice ones. So. Instead of daily thank yous, here is a one-time list of 12 things that I know for sure at 1200 days sober. Some may surprise you, like they did me.
I am stronger than I ever knew before I got clean at age 43. And I had been really strong before that, too, so this is big.
I can go my own way and be good at it.
Be brave enough to tell other people in real life, right to their face, that you need to know you aren’t alone.
Ask for help. All alone in the middle of your day, or night, or the woods, or your office, or bedroom, or Target, or wherever else you are when it feels like the burden of your addiction is going to snuff you out, and you are scared, and you can’t scream but you are screaming on some secret inner private level all the time—ask for help with your whole being. Not with words out loud necessarily, but from someplace deeper inside. From the place where you know you are alive and want to stay alive, but also where the pain is. The pain is the aliveness. Ask for help with that part. Ask. There’s something out there in the ether that hears this shit, I’m telling you. It needs to hear you ask because it needs you to invite it in.
Since I no longer drink, or black out, or pass out in order to go to sleep, or wake up bleary eyed and hungover, I never miss my tooth care routine in morning or night, ever. This is monumental. And if you ever struggled with booze you know what I am talking about even though people too rarely talk about this particular aspect. My dental hygiene is fucking impeccable, bro. I’m talking electric toothbrush, water pik, floss, mouthwash, cleaning the bite guard, the whole fucking scene.
What other people think of you doesn’t matter UNLESS you internalize their judgmental energy and turn it on yourself as well. Don’t join in. Don’t gang up on yourself. Only you know what you are going through. Only you know what actually hurts and what actually helps.
It will likely take years for your loved ones to see you recovering and become truly comfortable with it. First year sobriety is not how it will stay in years to come. Not for you and not for them. Do what you need to do, stay focused on getting better, and give yourself permission to not manage everyone else’s reactions to your sobriety and recovery. Things will settle out. Time will tell. Give yourself time.
Sobriety and recovery are two different things. Some people see them as inseparable, some people only need one and not the other. It’s one thing to abstain from alcohol. It’s entirely another to delve into recovering from an addiction. Respect for all. But be very clear with yourself where you fall on this spectrum. There are a lot of people who will not understand the difference and you cannot risk letting their ignorance fuck with your head. If you are working through trauma healing as part of addiction recovery, you are 100% allowed to quietly secretly hate the fuck out of dry January and rah-rah sobriety is shits and giggles bullshit. Live and let live. And give yourself the respect, dignity, and compassion you so deeply deserve.
I believe I have what was called ‘alcoholism’ but now I guess isn’t supposed to be? I cannot drink. I’m wired for fuckery and I will not risk moderating even though I could hypothetically conceive of one day maybe in the far distant future being “capable” of it. Fuck that.
Just because I’m an alcoholic doesn’t mean alcohol isn’t a universally poisonous drug.
The best part about being 1200 days sober, which is 3 years, 3 months, and two and a half weeks (but who’s counting), is noticing how I’m reintegrating myself into myself. The first few years were brutally real all the time. High highs and low lows and very rocky waters, if you will. I faced some really hard truths about how I became addicted in the first place, and healing that stuff was a massively crushing and liberating undertaking. It all quite literally blew my fucking mind. Now I am living with the tremendous benefits of having done all that work. As I continue to navigate this increasingly chaotic world, I can see what I could never have seen a few years ago: all the work is preparing you to be able to do amazing things one future day. Even if that amazing thing is the simple act of not losing your shit in an argument with your spouse, or taking a deep breath instead of reaching for something to numb the fear, it all counts. It’s all changing the world because it’s changing the people around you in ways they would be so grateful for if only they know how insanely unlikely it is that you would be so clean and steady and capable in this moment.
Every recovered person is a miracle. So is every addicted person. Just to be here at all is a miracle. The only difference between a person recovering and a person struggling inside of an addiction is that the former is living the miracle and the latter is dying to. Both are precious and beautiful. Both are to be equally loved.
Thank you for being here with me. 1200 days and in awe of every damn one.
Please share this for those who are struggling and those who are triumphing, because we are all doing both at the same time.
"What other people think of you doesn’t matter UNLESS you internalize their judgmental energy and turn it on yourself as well. Don’t join in. Don’t gang up on yourself. Only you know what you are going through. Only you know what actually hurts and what actually helps." So good, and true, and obvious, and yet somehow I need to read it over and over. Thank you! And congratulations.
Love this, especially the bit about the dental hygeine! Its true - this needs to be talked about more!!!!