me, this time last year. doing just fine here. no problemo.

with the benefit of that priceless gift, hindsight, I can see that my serious attempts at moderation, which went on for at least a year prior to my decision to stop drinking, were attempts to bail out a hopelessly leaking boat. because the effects of drinking were swamping any tiny efforts I could make to redress them.

can’t remember where on the sobersphere I read or heard (maybe on the Bubble Hour?) the brilliant phrase, “when we drink our standards drop faster than we can keep up with them”. and, man, didn’t they just? honesty with others and with myself? my family, my job, my own health? – all left orphaned in the wake of alcohol.

so, I made the leap to a new boat. very unfamiliar, at first. catching lots of crabs with my oars, going in circles. not knowing where the fuck I am going, either.

and now I am getting a bit better at handling my sober boat. working out where the hell it is I am headed. but, guess what? there are still stormy seas out there. some pretty big waves of every day life. and my boat is small and vulnerable. a cockle-shell of hope on a sullen grey angry ocean.

small yes, but also light and adaptable. I am still in the right boat.

so, I float. I bail when the high seas come. I do not let my oars drop in exhaustion. I rest when I can and trust there will be calmer days ahead.

bailing out my new boat, here. 237 days sober.