The apocalypse had arrived. Sudden sounds signaling a nuclear meltdown began blaring in my bedroom at 5AM yesterday. I jumped out of bed on guard and ready to shit my underwear. You know how sometimes when you very abruptly wake up, you just go from lying flat to standing upright in a split second? You launch from your bed like a rocket and somehow you are instantly at attention? And you know something needs to happen. There’s a reason why you’re awake now but you don’t remember what it is so you scream something like OK I’M AWAKE, I’M UP. OH MY GOD, WHAT WHAT! and you pivot on one foot back and forth trying to decide what to do in this situation because while you understand you are awake, you don’t know why and you still haven’t turned off the alarm so as you continue to panic, you hear nothing but that biohazard-disaster-is-imminent wail of WAH WAH WAH WAH. So loud. So disturbing. I thought I had already changed this obnoxious alarm sound long ago to something less harsh. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? Maybe I’m late for work? Maybe the house is going to blow up? Then you make a quick split second decision and start putting on clothes. You don’t know why. You don’t care why. Any clothes. Pants. Dresses. Hats. Garter belts. Whatever you can grab. And by the time you remember that you had decided the night before to get up 2 hours earlier in an attempt to go to the gym before work, you are standing in a dark room dressed like a hooker hobo with your dog and boyfriend staring at you like you’re a crazy person. Which you are. Because it’s 5AM and you aren’t still asleep.

Fifteen minutes later and you’re on an elliptical machine wondering what the fuck you were thinking. Instead of resting up for another fun filled day of working hard and not getting drunk, you are simulating forward motion without going goddamned anywhere. And elliptical machines aren’t nearly as sane as a treadmill or stationary bike. At least when you use one of those, you’re simulating an actual motion used to move forward in space and time. What the fuck is an elliptical? Our bodies don’t DO that motion in daily life. We aren’t fucking gazelles running from lions. How stupid. This is stupid. I glance over to the woman next to me. She sort of looks like a gazelle, actually. And she’s really pushing hard. On a scale of 1 to 20, she’d selected level 17 which is like the equivalent of 4 lions chasing you at once. RUN, GAZELLE LADY! RUN! She’s so in shape. She’s already burned 784 calories. Wait. Is she smiling? OMG SHE’S SMILING. Dumb bitch!

Fast forward another 15 minutes and I’m on level 17. I’m smiling. I’ve found my inner gazelle. I apologize internally for calling her a bitch in my head so basically I was apologizing to myself for being negative. I’M SORRY, ME! ME, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT! IT’S FINE. I feel good now! At the 1 hour mark, I towel off and walk home to get ready for work. The boyfriend and the dog are their typical selves: Awake by duty and not looking too happy about it. And I’m extremely happy and talkative and I can tell they were thinking SHUT THE FUCK UP, CRAZYLADY. But that’s okay. The rest of my day went wonderfully. I was more productive at work, felt more grateful for the little things, and just operated in a less heavy and clunky way. So guess what? I DID IT AGAIN THIS MORNING. And same thing. Feel great. Could this be that little extra something that I’ve been looking for in this crazy recovery journey of mine?

If anything, maybe it will help me sleep better. I’ve been having the oddest dreams lately — (none as odd as this one) — but two nights ago I finally had one worth reporting. Almost every single night without fail, some stupid asshole in my dreams is trying to give me bottles of vodka or cans of beer. And every single time, I take them and drink them and get drunk in my sleep which feels VERY real and makes me quite upset. Either that or I am running around searching for alcohol or I have alcohol but can’t drink it because people are watching. But two nights ago, I finally took control of the situation and when some weird Asian lady offered me a drink, I said, “No thank you, ma’am.” She persisted and finally I took the drink and threw it to the ground. She looked at me in shock and I quickly morphed into some kind of farm animal. I’ve been telling people COW but I honestly don’t know. It felt like cow. But I couldn’t see myself obviously because I was me in the dream and there were no mirrors to look in. I could have very easily have been horse. I don’t think it was goat or sheep because I felt BIG. And then I flew away. Sober.

I really don’t want to turn into more of a cow than I already am. And the way I’ve been eating lately, it could easily happen. But now that I’ve got this new gym kick going, hopefully I can keep my human Old Macdonald farmer physique and avoid bovine or anything too bulky.

Overall, I feel happy.

At least 2-3 times a day, I’ll be doing something rather mundane like reading a book or watching TV or ballroom dancing with my Chihuahua… and I’ll suddenly stop and think OH, WOW. I’M NOT DRUNK. I DON’T DRINK.

That’s an amazing thing to be able to say.

I don’t drink.

I don’t drink.

I don’t drink.



  1. Yahoo. Glad you wrote a post today. Been waiting for it after ready your entire blog from the beginning in 1 day. I am just a little ahead of you at 81 days. It was great to reminisce about all the same awful things I went through too and to validate all my feelings. Thanks so much for that. You are the best writer!!!!

  2. I love it when I get an email alerting me to a new post here! Your writing is entertaining, encouraging, and hopeful. Keep doing what you’re doing, it’s working!

  3. Yay! Keep up the exercise! I’ve done mine in reverse…starting going to the gym at 6AM and carefully planning out my alcohol consumption so that “oh hey, look at me, I can have 3 beers and still get up at 5:30AM and go to the gym!” Been sober 3 weeks now…going to the gym is so much better and easier. Love your blog!!

    1. Thanks! I remember when I was really bad off before I got sober the FIRST time, I would go to the gym every morning because it almost felt like my hangover would go away after 1-2 hours of working out. If I tried that now, I’d probably die. I am no spring chicken anymore. I’m not a fall, summer, or winter one, either. I’m not a chicken. At all.

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