“Get sober,” she said. “Stop your meds,” she said. “Start a business,” she said. “Do it all at the same time,” she said.
When did she say this was going to be the hardest thing you'll ever do?

You know how the gym is super packed right after New Year’s? People are motivated, energized, hopeful. For me, sobriety feels exactly like that. Early on, motivation came easily—everything felt fresh, empowering, exhilarating even. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks stretched into months, that initial excitement started fading, revealing a tougher truth: the journey only gets harder as time goes on.

I’m currently 132 days sober, and this is the longest I’ve stayed clean since I started drinking and smoking at 14.

The Rollercoaster of Bipolar Disorder

The reality is, bipolar depressive episodes bring severe fluctuations in motivation. One day, I’m on top of the world—energized, productive, unstoppable. The next, I’m pinned under the suffocating weight of depression, barely able to crawl out of bed. On these days, every step feels like trudging through thick mud, exhausting and relentless.

These swings aren’t subtle—they’re unpredictable extremes that make planning my life feel impossible. Tasks that felt effortless yesterday become overwhelming today.

No Vices, No Meds, No Safety Net

For years, I relied on vices to cope—drinking, smoking, whatever would take the edge off. Anxiety rising? Drink. Thoughts racing uncontrollably? Smoke. Emotions feeling overwhelming? Numb it out.

For the last four years, I was also on several psychiatric medications meant to stabilize my moods and ease some of this internal chaos. But I’m no longer taking any of them.

I made the decision to taper off medications thoughtfully, with professional support, because I wanted to experience life clearly, fully, and without the side effects that clouded my mind and numbed my emotions.
It hasn't been an easy choice, and it certainly isn't right for everyone—but for now, it’s right for me.

Now, facing life sober and without those familiar chemical buffers, there’s no crutch, no safety net—just me confronting the raw, chaotic, beautiful mess of sobriety layered on top of bipolar disorder. There’s nowhere left to hide, and sometimes that feels terrifying.

When the Urges Come

The cravings have intensified lately—frequent, loud, and increasingly difficult to ignore. There are moments when I catch myself staring into space, vividly imagining how easy it would be to slip back into old habits. Sometimes, it’s triggered by stress. Other times, by a random memory, a scent, or just a passing thought.

But every time those urges rise, I pause. I remind myself why I chose this path:

To maintain a clear mind and a healthier body
For emotional stability and better mental health
To be the kind of mother my daughters can look up to
To stay focused, driven, and capable of achieving my business goals

In those moments, I cling to these reasons like a lifeline. Sometimes it’s enough. Sometimes it barely is. But so far, it has always been enough to keep me sober.

Learning to Give Myself Grace

I’m also learning to give myself grace during depressive episodes. I don’t beat myself up for not checking everything off the to-do list. Some days, getting out of bed, eating a meal, and just existing is enough. And that’s okay.

I’ve been making a conscious effort not to isolate completely. Even when every fiber of my being wants to shut the world out, I try to answer calls and texts, holding on to the people who care. I’m not reaching out as often as I’d like, but I’m not disappearing either—and that feels like a win.

Still Sober. Still Showing Up.

Sobriety and mental health recovery are anything but smooth rides. There’s no clear-cut path. No manual. No guarantee.

I didn’t step into sobriety expecting it to be easy—I stepped in knowing it would challenge every part of me. And it has. It’s been messy. Emotional. Confusing. Frustrating. But also deeply, deeply rewarding.

Even though it doesn’t look how I thought it would, I’m still here. Still sober. Still showing up for myself, my daughters, and my dreams—one honest, imperfect step at a time.

A New Year of Life, Clear-Headed

My birthday is next week. And for the first time in years, I’ll be entering a new year of life fully sober. No numbing. No distractions. Just me—feeling it all. That feels like something worth honoring.