I’m constantly reminded of reasons I’m grateful to be sober — and they always seem to show up in the least expected places. There was a stretch of time, before I got sober, when I desperately wanted to get pregnant — but we weren’t. “We’ve been trying,” I’d say, glass in hand, like I was toasting to my own disappointment. And the next day, I’d scroll through texts, check social media, and try to piece together what I’d said — and to whom. I am sober and responsible for my actions because I finally care about my own name enough to protect it.
