As of yesterday, July 4th, I officially clocked in 90 days without a drink. Ninety. Days. My liver is probably throwing a party right now, complete with tiny umbrellas and mocktails. Tomorrow, Sunday, I’m heading to my home group to pick up that shiny 90-day chip, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be levitating. Or at least trying not to trip on the way up to the podium. What do you actually do with your hands while standing there anyway?

Guess who was “volun-told” they’re chairing tomorrow’s AA meeting BTW? Yep, it’s me. Apparently, the universe decided that simply reaching 90 days wasn’t enough of a challenge; I also needed to conquer public speaking. Nothing says “milestone achievement” like suddenly being in charge of adult conversation with a bunch of recovering drunks? My higher power clearly has a wicked sense of humor.

Never in a million years did I think I’d get this far. Honestly, when I started this journey, 90 fucking days felt like trying to swim across the Atlantic while blindfolded and tied to an anchor. Yet, here we are, against all odds, and probably against the advice of my exhausted brain.

This past week alone was a special kind of chaos. My brain cells are currently staging a protest over my ridiculous school course load – seriously, Future Me, what were you smoking when you signed up for all this?! Work was a non-stop circus and then, just to ensure I had absolutely zero downtime, I welcomed my sixth (yes, SIXTH!) grandchild into this weird and wild world. 

And through all of it – the textbooks, the essays & tests, the tiny, adorable, screaming bundles of joy – I did it sober. No escaping, no numbing, just me, my wits, and an alarming amount of caffeine. It hasn’t been a stroll through a field of daisies; there have been plenty of “WTF?!” moments, doubts, and the occasional whisper from the dark side. But the desire to show up, fully present and ridiculously un-hungover, for myself and for my ever-expanding family, has kept me on track.

This isn’t just about avoiding a drink; it’s about getting my life back, one ridiculously busy, surprisingly hilarious, and incredibly sober day at a time. And as I stand there tomorrow, clutching my chip and trying to sound like I know what the fuck I am talking about while chairing the meeting, it’ll be a loud and clear reminder: I did it. And I did it sober.

To anyone navigating their own battles, keep pushing. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize. And if you ever find yourself ‘volun-told’ into something unexpected, just remember: sometimes the best move is to lean into the chaos and own it.

To the next 90 days.