The last time I drank I walked down to the bowling alley and ordered a Surly Furious to wash down a polish with kraut. 

I got a little high before waddling across the ice, zipped against the wind. Last time I had any THC, too. I thought about what my therapist said, to focus on popping the bubble of craving with a sharpened set of responses that negate the urge before it becomes an obsession. It was a Monday afternoon.

I left buzzed and brined by salty food, gripping my cigarettes in my coat pocket. The sun came out – how many days had it been away? Back home I lit one last Marb 27, ashing into the snow and feeling sick and scared, just like every other cigarette made me feel for 20 years. A poor application for a pesticide; good riddance. One last last one.

I took a deep cold breath, smiled and walked inside. I’ve been sober ever since.

This is the story I want to tell. That on December 1, 2025, I renounced alcohol and cannabis and nicotine. And I stuck with it.

I said to myself: I forgive you. Now do better.

Here’s how that’s going.