SELF WORTH! –
Aug 13, 2025 – This time last year, I got sober. I wasn’t a daily drinker, but when I went out, I went hard in the paint—Jameson by the bottle, cheap beer in between. I’d pick booze money over dinner when I was broke. I bought into the fiction that writers had to drink, that good work came from mining your own misery.
I’d been thinking about quitting for a while. I was tired of living like a frayed wire—tired of hangovers, of wasting entire days recovering, of letting my demons take the wheel. I’d wake up cringing at my texts, realizing I’d completely misunderstood some simple conversation.
When I told my doctor I wanted to stop, we made a plan. I’ve had anxiety for years; I just didn’t realize I was using alcohol to self-medicate. I got on meds for anxiety and depression—something I wish I’d done years ago.
People ask how I’ve made it a year. The answer’s simple; one day at a time. I never look beyond the day I’m living. I value that my personal life isn’t a cruel sea and that my professional life is thriving. Injecting chaos just to argue in a bar about whether Woody Harrelson was on Cheers isn’t worth losing that peace.
