F#ck me I’m 40 (and 7 months sober!)

I always imagined what my life would be like when I turned 40. What I would be like. Not surprisingly, it’s nothing like I’d imagined. I’m not either. I didn’t think I’d be separated, or back to apartment living—definitely not in the ghettoest-ass armpit of an otherwise desirable community—and I sure as HELL didn’t think I’d be sober.

I thought my 40th would be one for the record books, just like all the other milestone birthdays I’ve been seeing friends and acquaintances share on Facebook and Instagram (damn social media). A big blowout party, squads of close friends, and debaucherous shenanigans.

I imagined and wanted to make a grand entrance into my 40s. But things hardly ever work out the way we hope. Life calls the shots, and throws in a few curve balls along the way to keep things interesting.

So here I am, with a few minutes left of my 30s. 😳 I’m not going to have the big birthday bash. I’m not going to be surrounded by 100s of adoring friends; who was I kidding anyway, I don’t even have that many friends. And I’m certainly not going to be participating in any debaucherous shenanigans.

And that’s okay. Because that’s not who I am. This is my life and I’m okay with it. This is where I need to be, and who I need to be, right now. There’s no denying I’m in a better place. I’m happier. I’m healthier. I’m liking the person I’m becoming. And for the first time in a long time, I’m excited about the future.

Not only am I welcoming a new decade, I’m also celebrating seven months of sobriety. And, damn, does it feel good. I’m finally growing up, maturing into the person I was supposed to be. Booze held me back for so long, and robbed me of so much.

Well, not any more. I have my life back. I have me back. And that’s worth far more than any stupid party. Debaucherous shenanigans? Been there, done that. Here’s to everything but.

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