I think this is my first real 30 days where I didn't have one or two slips of having "just one drink" at a party or while going out to eat. Back before I became a problem drinker about 10 years ago I still didn't have stretches that long; I was always drinking a beer or two every few days.

I feel good. I'm sleeping so deeply I don't want to get up in the morning, I'm appreciating the smaller pleasures in life, my focus is better, and I think I've gained 20 IQ points. I didn't realize how much I had come to hate the chase of planning how I was going to sneak the quantity of alcohol I wanted to drink (but still be seen drinking a moderate amount so that my wife would know I was "a responsible drinker"), worrying about how much I had in the house, about how and when I would get more. And the worst part is that the game of sneaking it seemed, at least for me, to be part of the "fun." I thought I was drinking to relax and have a good time but the truth is that, JFC, it was stressful as hell.

I was thinking the other night that drinking for me is like swimming in the ocean. Most people can get in, bob around for a while, and then lay in the sun on the beach to dry off. For me, there's always a really strong rip current out there. Theoretically, it would be possible for me to wade in to my knees from time to time and it would be fine, but inevitably I look around at everyone else and they're all fine. Everyone's having fun. So now I want to go waist deep and often that's all it takes. I'm sucked out into the ocean and once that happens I have to wait 6, 9, maybe 12 months before the ocean spits me back out on a beach somewhere.

I'm not even worried about the bad times in life. When things get very real I often want to be clear headed (which is a blessing, honestly). It's that desire to "reward" myself, to "relax," to "have fun," to turn the nob on the fun dial up a notch or two. It's a little infuriating how the desire to make an already fun time "just a little more fun" kicks off months of escalating drinking. I hate that impulse in myself. I know that if I went out and had a beer tonight I'd be able to stop at one. But giving myself permission to have just one would mean that in the next several days I would have two, and by next weekend I would be buying a handle of whiskey, and then who knows when I would stop next. Maybe I wouldn't stop?

I know that nobody has an easy answer to this except to be on guard and to reach out for help when you need it. It's just scary to know that something can suck me out to sea at any moment if I'm not constantly vigilant.