The River

Friday night, as we waited for our friends to arrive and Mads read aloud a riddle, I found myself in a reflective moment. The riddle went, “What always runs but never walks, often murmurs but never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?” I knew the answer—a river—but I let her have her moment (#momwin). As I sipped on my O’Douls, I pondered the simple cleverness of that riddle and how it seemed to mirror life.

The full impact of this metaphor hit me the next morning, lying on my yoga mat. Life really is like a river—steady, unpredictable, and constantly changing. It starts at a source, flows slowly, then picks up speed, crashing over obstacles and settling into calm pools. Just when you think it’s stagnant, it finds new paths, eventually emptying into the vast unknown.

90 Days

The past 90 days have felt like an entire river’s journey, full of unexpected twists, moments of calm, and places where I had to fight the current. When I began this challenge, I was desperate for change. I wrote that first post on Day Zero while drinking wine at my kitchen counter, feeling vulnerable and exhausted with the role of perpetual victim. Oh, I could throw a pity party with the best of them—and I always brought the wine.

Over these 90 days, I’ve felt like a passenger in a canoe, sometimes paddling desperately against the current, other times surrendering and letting the river carry me. I’ve hit rapids, gotten stuck, and even found moments of peace, but the journey brought me to a place I never expected.

I’ll admit: I started this journey hoping to become a “better” version of myself. I thought sobriety would solve my weight issues, erase the bags under my eyes, and magically make me a better mom, wife, and friend. But the truth is, I’m still me. I didn’t transform into a perfect version of Katy, but I did become a more present, self-aware one. I broke habits, gained energy, and noticed the impact of my actions on those around me. And I’m okay with that.

Improvements:

• I lost 17.2 pounds.
• I can wear clothes I haven’t fit into for years.
• My sleep is the best it’s ever been; orgasmic in fact.
• Simple acts, like tying my shoes or crossing my legs, feel effortless now.
• My home is cleaner, at least half the time.
• I’ve accomplished more in three months than I have in the past nine years.
• I’m more tuned in to my kids, noticing details about them that I’d overlooked.
• I’ve allowed new opportunities to come into my life that I once wouldn’t have noticed.

And yet, here’s the real kicker: my circumstances haven’t changed. My past is still the same, my losses still real, and my regrets still present. What’s changed is that for 90 days, I didn’t medicate with alcohol. I leaned into discomfort, took deep breaths, and learned to let things go with a shrug.

I haven’t conquered my inner critic—my “mean girl.” She’s quiet for now, but I know she’s lurking, waiting for her moment. And yes, there’s always the chance that I’ll wake up tomorrow, say “screw it,” and have a Bloody Mary. But I know what’s at stake. This journey wasn’t about alcohol; it was about healing my relationship with myself. The alcohol was just a numbing agent, not the root of my problems.

Self-Care is Not Self-ish

Here’s what I want to share with you: You are the most important person in your life. More important than your kids, your partner, your job. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll eventually break—whether it’s through numbing, spending, or simply burning out. Self-care isn’t selfish; it’s necessary.

And don’t give me the “I don’t have time” excuse. Time is what you make it. If you don’t want to prioritize yourself, be honest about it. But if you do, start small. Find something you enjoy and commit to it for two weeks. Let go of guilt and find joy in taking care of yourself. Because as much as everyone has opinions, the only one that matters is yours.

So, what’s next for me? I don’t know what Day 91 will bring, but tonight, I’ll sleep like a baby, go to yoga tomorrow, and enjoy the simple joys of life. For now, I’m snuggling with my kids, finishing my ice cream, and feeling grateful for the gift I gave myself: 90 days of being fully present.

Update:

This post was written April 2019. I committed to moderation and it took me until August 30th, 2021 to realize that is just NOT in the cards for me. As of right now, November 11th, 2024, I am 3+ years sober.