Twenty thoughts on twenty years of sobriety

Caleb Daniloff
Sep 9, 2018 · 3 min read

1) I have abstained from alcohol for 7,300 days in a row.

2) I’ve been sober five years longer than the time I spent drinking and drugging. My aim was always to settle the score: fifteen years wasted, fifteen years sober. Even Stevens. Then what? I didn’t know. But now that I’ve passed the goal posts, exited the stadium, and crossed the parking lot, I feel a little unmoored. Not uncomfortably so. Maybe that’s freedom.

3) The crass, chain-smoking, sticky-fingered, self-obsessed, delusional, insecure, overly sensitive, oblivion-chasing, rage-prone girlfriend-head who drove everywhere drunk, consumed everything in sight, and once answered to the name “Asshole” seems as distant to me as a third-grade classmate. In fact, it sometimes feels like my past happened to someone else and I’ve simply been a teetotaler my whole life.

4) When people congratulate me, it makes me uncomfortable. Taking myself out of the game was the least I could do. I never felt like a victim. Or maybe I just can’t take compliments.

5) I’d like to go back and apologize to everyone all over again, like a renewal of vows.

6) Some days, my sobriety only feels like a really long non-drinking streak.

7) Running is hugely important to me. I get to run because I am sober. I try not to forget this.

8) Gratitude is something to practice, not just a feeling. I could be practicing more.

9) There have been years where my sober birthday has passed without my noticing.

10) Some days, I regret forgoing AA. Did I also forego important work and attendant revelations? Did I pass up a chance to be part of something? Did I deprive my story of meeting-room oxygen and allow it to calcify and fade?

11) I try not to live in regrets.

12) The best way to get sober is the way you got sober. The best way to stay sober is the way you stay sober. I believe this utterly.

13) There are too many recovery memoirs (mine included).

14) Getting an email or letter of thanks from a reader is still a thrill, and humbling.

15) I prefer “former alcoholic” to “recovering alcoholic.”

16) Helping someone who is struggling is both an honor and an obligation. Service is crucial.

17) Witnessing the devastation of the opioid crisis, particularly on families, often makes my experience and efforts to help feel toothless. Heroin is straight-up evil. What’s going on in this country is horrifying.

18) Beware of recovery gurus. Sobriety isn’t a brand.

19) The sober running community is one of the world’s great forces for good. Communing is important.

20) So is humility, sometimes the hardest impulse to muster.

21) I’m still a flawed soul, prone to petty worries, feelings of inadequacy, and contradictions.

22) Thanks to everyone who believed in me over the years, especially my wife.

23) In sobriety, possibility is renewed. The rest is up to me.

24) Obviously, I’m still learning how to count. Or how to write accurate headlines. Fortunately, I’m still learning.

[Related content:
What my last drink looked like
https://medium.com/@calebdaniloff/meanwhile-some-one-hundred-fifty-seven-thousand-six-hundred-and-eighty-hours-ago-77e2a23fdeab
Hello, Hoggers!
https://medium.com/@calebdaniloff/hello-hoggers-87c6f157228d]

Caleb Daniloff

Written by

Boston-area writer, Runner's World contributing editor, author Running Ransom Road (2012), co-conspirator on November Project, The Book (2016).