Yesterday was my daughter’s second birthday and, as one does, I decided to kill some time by checking her development against a series of online checklists. I recognize that this is not unlike my obsessive drunken readings of countless, “Are YOU an alcoholic?” articles that I used to do, cocooned in my office with a rapidly diminishing bottle of Jack, when I was supposed to be writing.

Things on the two-year-old front started off quite nicely, I knew just from watching her play with the older kids at our neighborhood park that her motor skills are excellently developed, and I was just about to start patting myself on the back when I got to the language development section. I checked off a couple of no’s. Then a couple more. Then had a, “what do you mean does she string two or three words together?” moment. The feeling was familiar. (Do you often find yourself unable to stop, once you’ve begun drinking? …


It’s been a pretty drab week. Days of freezing rain have kept me inside, and I’ve spent most of it learning the ropes of my new University position. This place is SO MUCH BIGGER than the one I’m coming from, and the courseload is insane, so it’s not like it wasn’t necessary. Still, we’re all a little stir-crazy after being cooped up.

Realized this morning that I hadn’t been counting my days, and was surprised to see that I’m on Day 43 without a drink. That seems both huge and minuscule at the same time, as I sit here remembering what it felt like to be on days eight, nine, or twenty-three, and then think about people who have eight, nine, or twenty-three years behind them. …


I woke up in a really bad mood yesterday. One of those bone-tired, hurts to move, want to eat all of the pizza, bad moods that are so difficult to shake. I slept like shit, but being awake felt pointless. The thought of waking and doing the same thing over and over and over again for the rest of my life made me want to lash out at the world in a rage. …

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Writing Sober

Writer. Educator. Addict. http://writedrunkeditsober.blog/

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