To say my life was unmanageable before I got sober is an understatement. I stopped paying bills, going to work, and even getting out of bed. Mornings were a blur of throwing up and drinking wine just to keep something down. (Sorry for the visual.) When I reflect on what it truly means to admit that life is unmanageable, I realize now that for me, unmanageable meant impossible. I was faced with a choice: live or die.

And yet, I kept drinking. In 2015, I sought help and spent six days in detox. My withdrawal symptoms were so severe that I was prescribed a walker because I was a fall risk. Even after all that, I drank again just two months later. For another eight months, I spiraled—until my 15-year-old daughter, Bailey, said, “Mom, it’s okay to try again.” Imagine your child encouraging you to save your own life. I thought I’d carry regret for that moment forever.

But I’ve learned not to regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. Those moments of shame and despair brought me to where I am today. I’m grateful for the lessons and the chance to start again.

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