In a previous post, I mentioned the cornerstone of my sobriety: the daily routines I embraced from day one. Looking back on the past 83 days, I can unequivocally say these meticulously crafted rituals have been nothing short of a lifeline, a steadfast anchor that hasn’t just preserved my sobriety but, I genuinely believe, saved my life. They’re the scaffolding upon which my recovery is built, offering structure, purpose, and a tangible framework for navigating each day without succumbing to old patterns.

My days now start at 6:30 AM. If you’d told me a year ago I’d be up at that hour on purpose, I would’ve laughed in your face. I used to be the one waking up 45 minutes before work, frantically scrambling, tripping over the cat in search of that missing shoe (always under the couch from the night before), and bolting out the door with my hair on fire. I’d curse anyone who dared slow me down on the road, all because I was a drunk who couldn’t manage my life, let alone my time. Now? My mornings are serene. I actually have time to sip my coffee, pack my breakfast and lunch, and even occasionally go for a walk at a local park with an AA speaker meeting in my ear.

The moment I buckle into my car after work, my AA Zoom meeting is dialed in. It’s the background music to my often-chaotic commute and, honestly, the soundtrack to most of my evening. Stepping through the door, my hand no longer instinctively reaches for a wine glass—you know, the one that magically multiplied into a bottle, then two. Now, it’s coffee, or a refreshing glass of sun tea from the pitcher I keep chilled, ready for those days work tried to physically and mentally spirit-bomb me. Then comes dinner, a truly wild concept in my old life. I used to think 10 or 11 PM was a perfectly reasonable time to eat, usually some DoorDashed mystery meat consumed in a blackout haze. But look at me now, eating a sensible, home-cooked meal at what “normies” actually call dinner time. And get this: I even prepare a snack for later—usually, wait for it, fruits and vegetables. Who even am I?

If I’m not physically sitting in an AA meeting, you can bet I’m at the library, nose deep in textbooks. Why? Because simply navigating the tricky waters of early sobriety wasn’t quite enough to keep me entertained. My brilliant solution: pile on a couple of college classes. Who needs free time when you can have existential crises over Psychology and Human Services literature simultaneously? What a genius idea, right? It’s certainly a far cry from my old evenings, where my biggest intellectual challenge was figuring out how to open another bottle.

So, these routines and all the new challenges I’ve piled on? They’re the absolute backbone of my sobriety, and honestly, they’re keeping me breathing. For that, my gratitude runs deep. My gratitude would just be that much deeper if my nights weren’t consistently capped at four hours of restless, fitful sleep. That, my friends, is a story for another day.