Going Sober: The Hard Reset

March 1st, 2022. I woke up to the cold light of dawn, my heart heavy and my mind clouded by the memories of the previous night. The realization that I needed to change, to save myself and my family from the destruction my addiction had wrought, was like a wound, raw and painful. I dragged myself out of bed, the weight of my decision pressing down on me, and made my way to the kitchen. As I set about brewing my morning coffee, I could feel the echoes of my old life clamoring for attention. My hands shook slightly as I reached for my phone and downloaded a mobile application called Quit Drinking, setting this date as the date that I will leave alcohol behind. It felt like a small, desperate gesture against the powerful force that had controlled me for so long, but it was a start. I knew I couldn’t rely on others to fix me; I would have to rehab myself at home, in front of my family. I didn’t dare say “I’ll never drink again.” That word – never – seemed to curse my previous attempts at sobriety, causing me to stumble and fall even harder. Instead, I whispered to myself, “I’m not drinking today.” I hoped that repeating those words every day would, in time, create a new reality where I was no longer ruled by addiction. The desire to drink gnawed at me as the day wore on. I could feel the pull of the familiar store where I used to buy my daily six packs, my feet itching to take me there. But I resisted. Instead, I retreated to my bedroom, seeking solace in the darkness. I lay there in bed, the sweat soaking through my sheets as I fought an invisible enemy. My mind raced, a thousand thoughts and fears jostling for space, while the voices whispered temptations in my ear. “Just one drink,” they murmured, seductive and insidious. “It’ll make everything quiet. It’ll make everything better.” But I refused to listen. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth, feeling the tears roll down my cheeks as I lay there, battling my demons. The tears were hot, like acid, searing my skin as they traced a path down my face. At that moment, I felt the crushing weight of all I had lost, and all I still had left to lose. As the light outside began to fade, I closed my eyes and prayed – prayed for the strength to make it through this day, and the days that would follow. I knew that the road ahead would be long, filled with pain and doubt, but also the hope of redemption. And so, in the darkness of my bedroom, I began my journey to reclaim my life, one day at a time.