Sobriety is fun! (Seriously)

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Hello, I’m Nelson, and I’m an addict.

Well, hold up, I am one sentence in and already catching myself being full of shit. Nelson is a pseudonym—I want to write about how freaking awesome sobriety can be, and how to get there, but I also want to respect the tradition of anonymity that the 12-step programs emphasize. Those 12-step programs have saved my life. So if you know my real name, please keep that to yourself.

Anyway, welcome. I’ve been sober since 2008 and always assumed I’d never publicly talk about it. But something changed for me when the pandemic began.

I went to an AA meeting around March 10, and a guy named Trevor (again, not his real name) was there. He’d been in and out, in and out, in and out. But he was a beautiful person, a big, tall dude with an even bigger heart. He hugged me that night, and his hugs were like trench coats, just draping over your body and warming you up.

I left that night, and within a day or two, we were in lockdown because of COVID-19. Three weeks later, another friend asked me if I was going to Trevor’s Zoom memorial.

“His WHAT?” I asked, even though I heard the words coming out of his mouth.

Trevor had drank himself to death. In three freaking weeks. It scared the crap out of me. Quarantine was looking a lot like active addiction to me: Holed up at home, very few people to be accountable to, bad habits, not enough recovery activities. I went to his Zoom memorial and felt the same anguish I always do when a good soul is swallowed up by addiction.

But I also try to remember to not let that person die in vain. Get myself more sober, get ready to grab a hand that reaches out for help, get connected with my Higher Power to figure out how I can be of service.

And that’s the part that inspired me to start writing about sobriety. There’s plenty of stuff out there about getting sober and staying sober. But in my humble opinion, there’s not enough literature that emphasizes how much freaking fun recovery is. Seriously, it’s a blast. I’ve heard newcomers say, “I gotta stop drinking. So I guess the party is over.”

I always grab their slumped-over sad shoulders and go, “No! The party isn’t over; it’s just getting started.

We then have a conversation—a real, no bullshit conversation—about that supposed “party” they were referencing. It usually involves drinking or drugging alone, unpaid bills piled on the bedside table, loved ones not speaking with them, mystery dents on the car, a parole officer (or three)… is that the party you’re feeling nostalgic about? Because that sounds more like a dumpster fire, sir.

So that’s why I am here. I’m a married amputee drug addict and alcoholic who writes, does (bad) standup and has three kids. But mostly I’m just another bozo on the sobriety bus. As you’ll see, I am a pretty XXXL-sized dipshit about most things, and I won’t shy away from that side of sobriety.

But man… it’s fun to not drink or drug any more. So much fun.

This newsletter is going to have some parts that are free, and some parts that require a subscription. If you know me, don’t feel obligated to send any money my way just because of my good looks and incredible charms. If you don’t know me… well, you should feel incredibly obligated to send money my way. Like, now. (Pausing to let everybody bust out credit cards).

Buckle in. We’re going to laugh a lot in this newsletter. Getting sober is serious business. Like, life or death serious business. But recovery is also an on-ramp back to actually enjoying life. I heard someone say once at a meeting, “I didn’t get sober to be miserable,” and I have thought about that every day since. I’m here to laugh and be present, and I hope you’ll join me. Because laughing alone is kind of sad and disturbing (see: The Joker).

Laughing together, without alcohol or drugs… slightly less disturbing! 

Just to set the tone here, you’re going to see lots of jokes from me about sobriety. So why not end my first Substack with a personal favorite?

A newcomer named Bob walks into a meeting and is greeted by three people. He asks the first person how long he’s been sober.

“Five years,” the guy says.

“Congratulations,” Bob says.

Bob asks the second person how long he’s been sober.

“Ten years,” the guy says.

“Congratulations,” Bob says.

Bob asks the third guy how long he’s been sober.

“Ten days,” the guy says.

“OHMYGOD, how in the hell did you do it!?!?!” Bob yelled.