My First Week Sober

Well, I did it—one week sober.

Early on, it’s hard to stay grounded in today. My mind still drifts back to all the wasted time, money, and chaos. Then it jumps ahead to 30 days, 90 days, forever. People who end up on the abusive side of substance use rarely live in the moment—we’re either replaying the past (depression), panicking about the future (anxiety), or numbing ourselves so we don’t have to feel any of it. Sometimes all three at once.

I’m definitely that way. But over the past 30 years of drinking and sobering up, I’ve noticed something: when I’m sober, being present gets easier. The thoughts about the past and the worries about the future don’t disappear—they just lose their grip. They pass through instead of setting up camp. And with that little bit of space, I can accept where I’m at, appreciate what’s going right, and actually make plans for what I want to change.

One thing I’ve learned about early sobriety is that Day One is huge. It’s the moment you decide—really decide—to do something different. AA says the first step is admitting you have a problem and that you’re powerless. For me, the first step is simpler and more practical: not walking into the bar at 3 p.m. when it opens.

Every day is an opportunity to start fresh. And when I’m drinking, it’s not like I don’t know that—I usually wake up thinking, I’m not drinking today. But by the afternoon, those promises I made at 7 a.m. fade. The intention is there, but the desire to drink just… wins.

So making it through that first day matters. It’s the hardest, but it gives me momentum. I wake up on Day Two realizing I might actually be capable of this if it’s what I really want. One day becomes two. Two becomes three.

And I think the most honest thing I can say about sobriety is that it ultimately comes down to wanting it. I know it’s not only about wanting it—there’s physical, emotional, and psychological dependence layered into all of this. But at the core, I’ve relapsed over and over because I never truly wanted long-term sobriety.

So here I am: one week sober. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but it feels good. And ironically, that’s part of the problem. When I’m drinking, I feel awful—physically, mentally. Then I get sober, start feeling better, and forget just how bad it was. That’s when complacency creeps in. One drink won’t hurt, I tell myself. And eventually I’m right back where I started.

But here’s what I do know: I never want to feel the way I felt a week ago. It was fucking terrible. So today, I’m grateful. Grateful to be sober. Grateful to feel even a little bit like myself again.

That’s all I’ve got today.