500 Days ago I took my last drink. 500, a number I can’t decide if it’s big or small. As a child 500 seems like a lot. 500 pieces of Halloween Candy, 500 colored pencil sets. However, 500 hard, simple but not easy, giving, opening, lifting, crushing, life changing, magical days feels surreal. Living 500 recovery focused days is an immense feeling in this one little life we have to live.

Before I was not ready to face 1 day of my own struggles, much less 500. I had buried my story too deep. I thought my mood depended on your mood. I wanted to carry your crisis. Today I’ve Iearned it is no longer more important to save someone else. It’s no longer my job to keep everyone else going. My priority shifted from feeling responsible for others’ happiness to my own. I let go of fixing future failures for everyone. Other’s problems are not my responsibility.

500 days ago I stopped drinking and I started counting.  I counted minutes, hours, afternoons then days. Sometimes I counted fan blades turning while laying on the floor. I counted steps around the block, I counted microscopic minutes as the craving to numb hit hard, as triggers pulled me back, as happy celebrations tried to pull me in, as the clock ticked through talk therapy, I counted.

I counted books and blogs, reading hundreds along this journey. I watched 30 days, 90, and then a handful of months. As covid caught me. I still counted me. Moments like my second sober 4th of July, and Labor Day #2 sober in the sun were sweet successes. 500 long, healthier, hard as hell, and heavenly healing days I counted me. Sharing in case you need a reminder to know you count.