4 Months Sober

It’s been 120 days since my last drink. That’s one third of a year.

I have nothing profound to say about this. Today’s a good day. I spent the morning laying in the grass and reading in Kalorama Park.

I have really good days sometimes. I have other days when I want to drink so badly I could claw my own skin off, and I never know which kind of day it’s going to be until I wake up.

I came very close to relapsing about a week ago. It was a really hot day at work and all I wanted to do was pick up a six-pack on the way home. But I knew it wouldn’t end there. And I still remember how I felt back in January, and I harbor a persistent feeling that the next time I drink will be the last time I do anything. So, instead of getting the six-pack, I went to my first AA meeting in Dupont Circle instead. I’m glad I did.

I heard somewhere that around the 4 month mark my mood swings and extreme lows will start to be fewer and far between. I hope that’s true. I like who I am sober, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t pure torture sometimes, or often. And my brain still plays tricks on me. In fact, it’s unrelenting: You made a big mistake going sober. You’re not really an alcoholic. You can have one beer, it’ll be fine. You’re an adult. You were tricked. None of this is real.

I know I’m building something important and lasting with sobriety but I can’t see what it is yet. I think I just need to stay clean and focused long enough for it to find my periphery. It’s been one third of a year since my last drink. That’s enough for now.