When I picked up my 60-day chip, an “old-timer” told me the best way to tell if someone would stay sober was if they made it to 90 days.

Ninety days? Fuck, are you kidding me? I could barely wrap my head around hitting 30 days, let alone 60. For years, putting together more than two weeks of sobriety felt impossible. Seven of those days were in rehab facilities—once at 31, and again at 33—where sobriety was the only option.

But here I was, walking up to get my 60-day chip at 51 years old. I was damn proud of myself. This isn’t just about a number; it’s about breaking old patterns, facing down cravings, and showing up for myself day after day. So, while I respect the wisdom of those who’ve walked this path longer, I’m choosing to celebrate every single day of this journey, especially those 60. So let me have this day Walt. 

How did I do it? Hell, it wasn’t some grand secret. It was routines. It might sound a little obsessive, but I set a reminder or alarm for almost every waking moment. If I am not working, I am at an AA meeting—either on Zoom or in person. And at night, I fall asleep listening to a speaker recording on my phone or YouTube. 

Things are changing big time for me – it’s a complete system overhaul. Every part of me, every habit, every belief gets a serious look, then is completely remade. My mornings, which used to be a blur of haziness and regret, are now focused, starting with a disciplined early rise, followed by coffee, a meeting, and the occasional walk. My diet, once just whatever is easy or what I crave (often DoorDashed), becomes a thoughtful embrace of healthy, whole foods which I make myself. Even my brain gets an upgrade; I’m back in college, keen to challenge myself and find the joy in learning again.

This huge personal transformation isn’t some sudden lightbulb moment or a burst of self-help enthusiasm. It is absolutely essential, a desperate need. The plain truth is, I’ve become a burden, a constant source of frustration and disappointment to the people I care about most. The tired sighs from my kids, the worried looks from my parents, the fewer invites from friends – each one is a clear sign of how unmanageable my life had become. And worst of all, the crushing weight of hating myself is unbearable. I am completely, totally fed up with the person I’ve become, with the endless cycle of screwing things up and the damage it causes. The excuses are gone, and everyone’s patience, including mine, is exhausted.

I was finally sick of my shit.

Why am I starting a blog so new in my sobriety? My answer is simple: Why not? I’m not getting any younger, and so far, I’ve defied the odds. Not many of us live long enough to talk about all the stupid shit we did while drinking and, more importantly, how we’re fixing it.

The reality for many of us is stark: either we stay enslaved by the disease of alcoholism and eventually die from it, or we confront it, do the work, and live out the rest of our days in a happier, sober life. I’m choosing the latter, and I want to talk about it. Maybe putting my story out into the universe will help someone else on their journey. Maybe it won’t but I believe it is a story worth telling.