Every Time We Need to Begin Again

A new batch of check-ins for the new year.

Today's newsletter is sponsored by Best Day Brewing, a non-alcoholic beer, born in Northern California and crafted for doers everywhere. Because life is full of moments that deserve a great beer, but not the booze. Have a Best Day throughout Dry January — and beyond. Scroll to the end to learn more about Best Day's Dry January contest, the Best You Yet Adventure.

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A resolution is a magic trick you perform for an audience of one. A perfect circle of circular logic. I will be different because I say I will be different. We at TSB know it both is and isn’t that easy (that hard!). We resolve, sure; but mostly, we sit and we wait. We know things will change in ways both anticipated and not. We prepare ourselves to weather those changes. And in that space, that personal waiting room, we allow ourselves to dream, to hope, to cry, to mourn, to rejoice, to feel. To live!

Let’s go to the Check-Ins. —TSB Editor

If you are unfamiliar with our Check-In format:

All the Anonymous writers below are credited collectively as “The Small Bow Family Orchestra.”

The ***** separates individual entries, as do pull quotes.

And, of course, TSB looks incredible because Edith Zimmerman drew everything. 

And thanks for your continued support of The Small Bow. If you love what we do and believe we have provided some value to you or people you love, please try out a paid subscription and access our complete archive and the Sunday newsletter.

Now, let’s grow wings.

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The Year of My Gooey Center

by The Small Bow Family Orchestra

The addict I’ve been dating/sorta in love with abandoned me in a bar on Dec. 13th and left me to pay the $200 bill. I have no idea why he left, although it may have been because I might have accused him of stealing money from my purse. But I can’t remember exactly because I was drunk. He stole my phone when I went to the bathroom, and when I returned he handed it back to me, exclaiming, “You’re so TRUSTING!?!” He might as well have told me, “You’re so STUPID to trust an addict!” I’m not that dumb — at least all my banking apps require passwords but I’m pretty sure he went through my texts, phone log, and email. He hasn’t contacted me since. Earlier this year when he went through a 4-month period of not responding to me, I was so hurt that I drank and did drugs to self-soothe. Not this time; I’ve been strong. He didn’t reach out over the holidays, no Merry Christmas message or anything. I will celebrate New Year’s Eve sober, dammit. And envision a 2025 without him. I don’t need substances to prop me up. I am solid and exercising and drinking kombucha. I WILL get a revenge bod. Wish me luck if he does contact me cause I haven’t blocked him. Yet. Happy fucking 2025 everyone — here’s to less insanity this year.

*****

The 2024 dumpster fire began with a class this Spring in which I felt crippling anxiety over some of the work. I earned an A, but spent much of the time acting like a 50 year-old crazy woman.

An instructor encouraged me to apply for a job for which my skills on paper aren’t much, but for which I have some knowledge and could have been trained. However, throughout the application process and in the interview, I failed on such epic levels (soft skills, professionalism) that it took most of this year to recuperate from the humiliation, and to gain enough courage to put myself out there again.

Then my heart broke with the election results, and I went into survival mode. I am eating better now, but still wake some nights with fears of the suffering that will come to marginalized communities, including mine. The cold stone in my heart has nestled in for the long haul.

Lastly, over Christmas, I thoroughly stepped in it with a neighbor regarding their dog. My concern for the dog was not unfair and I tried to be respectful, although my actions were premature. I apologized, but they are not interested in reconciliation, only in being offended. The sweet dog is fine, though he will always be lonely.

I have never had such a painful, humiliating, year. I’d love therapy, but the only balms I can afford are beer, Netflix & chill, cats, and swimming in my deep well of self-pity. I fantasize about sailing away to beautiful, remote places to fish for my food, far away from coming disasters and men who would hurt me. But I have no money for a boat, and I am not sure how the cats would feel about the sea.

*****

I was arrested for DWI on the Sunday before Christmas. I spent two days in jail but mercifully I was out before Christmas Day. I had been drinking all year after a year and a half of sobriety. I didn’t have a car and thus rode my bike everywhere, but my brother lent me his car as I was supposed to watch his house and his dogs while he travelled home for the holiday.

This has strained my relationship with my brother, but he paid my bail and I continued to watch the house and dogs. We will be alright; I just have to stay sober.

I’m grateful for my freedom, for my loved ones, and for another chance at sobriety.

*****

I feel post-holiday hungover, emotionally. I overcommitted and it was hard on the family, especially my 6 year old autistic son. I want to learn how to do less and say no more this year. Even when things are good, they’re exhausting at the holidays … so many expectations!

I feel like all of 2024 I’ve been waiting for things to get easier, and they just keep leveling up. I think this means I’m growing and reaching new levels of maturity in sobriety?

I’m starting the new year with a mix of gratitude (9 years of sobriety on Jan 14th!), fear (kids are a handful), excitement (starting new job on the 6th) and gratitude (my life is genuinely good). I think that feels pretty normal? I mean, I think this is my new normal.

I’m grateful to be sober, and especially grateful I have such an amazing support network in the women of AA. I feel some trepidation about 2025, because 2024 was crazy, but I also feel secure in that no matter what 2025 brings, I won’t have to handle it alone!

*****

I feel my good habits and bad habits locked in a heightening duel. I spent December sober for the first time in many years. I went to regular AA meetings in December for the first time ever. I’ve written down ten things I’m grateful for every day give-or-take for eight years. I’m not ready for January or the new year. I’m not ready for the decisions I know I’ll have to make on January 1st and throughout the entire month and year. Continue sobriety? Continue meetings? Go back to them if I falter? I am grateful for TSB and recovery programs. I’m grateful for my dysfunctional but affectionate and loving family. I’m grateful for not feeling too alone. I’m grateful for the times I manage to make my alone time helpful instead of damaging. I’m grateful to be here! I’m grateful for technology helping me write this email and connect with other people. I’m grateful for making it to the new year. I’m grateful for having audiences for ramblings like this. I’m grateful for remembering I didn’t wake up November 30 and suddenly have a problem. I hope I’m not stuck in the same dilemma or repeating it a year from now. Happy New Year! Thanks for TSB!

*****

Good news: I am sober. I continue to hold on to my sobriety by my fingernails sometimes, but I still got it. One thing — I have started to like my sleeping pills a bit more than I should, so I have someone else hold my prescription and give me my pills at night.

Bad news: I thought I had Parkinson’s Disease but because I can’t do anything halfway (that is a joke that is way too close to the truth) I have been upgraded to MSA-P — Multiple System Atrophy. I will begin going downhill pretty rapidly, in a wheelchair in the next 3 years and dead within 10, or so they say.

Not at all what I had planned for this final stage of my life. I am sober, I am an ex-pat in Europe. All these dreams that could never have come true if I hadn't stopped drinking.

And now this.

I am considering the small bow as a tattoo. This is something I have been wanting to do for a while. I have an ugly homemade tattoo on my butt (life lesson: don’t drink around people with indian ink).

Can’t wait to see the fun that 2025 has in store.

*****

This year I finally made progress in my sobriety. I was dating a guy that didn’t drink, super helpful. I was only drinking about 1x a month. Sometimes 6 weeks between. I broke up with him because he interviewed to be on the Bachelorette (pretty funny, right?). I was worried I would start drinking more, but I haven’t been drunk since July maybe, I don't really know. The few times since I've drank, it has only been 1 or 2.

I am planning on 2025 to be my year to be totally AF. Christmas was a challenge though. My abusive ex-husband had his hip replaced, so my daughters had to be there 24/7, which meant in order to see them, I had to go over there. One of the days I stopped by there was an open bottle of wine on the counter. I fantasized about sneaking a big gulp. I haven’t felt like that in a long time. I haven't been feeling the urge to drink until the last week. I’m so glad Christmas is over. My question I keep pondering is where is the balance between sitting in the pain and uncomfortable feelings and numbing? Self-care can be numbing sometimes, can’t it? How long do I have to sit before it’s ok to do something about it? I have for years thought about sitting in the pain, that’s how we grow, but it’s hard, especially when I wasn't allowed to feel anger or sadness growing up or in my marriage. Happy 2025!!

*****

I’ve always trusted my gut and something was wrong. January 1, 2024 I celebrated a milestone of 1+ yr of sobriety from binge drinking. I was healthy. I brought in ’24 with a spa-like seaweed bath soak and recall feeling like there’s no way a better version of me ever existed. I was longing to become a parent and believed it was attainable after months of trying. Maybe that was hope. Instead, my gut was right as time dragged on and we heard the definitive words “infertility ... less than a 20% chance if we can find anything viable.” We knew the journey to parenthood (or not) was going to be difficult. I started drinking again to cope with despair and was/am still depressed. It’s exhausting to hold it together but some days are better than others. So the concept of hope is a funny thing, because it doesn't always appear available or “true.” Maybe hope is a flicker of light or courage to trust in a dream not even fully thought of just yet. The resolution is not clear and it's not about magically forgetting the suffering, but perhaps the emerging vision becomes a shifted focus. I’m planning to rally up again in ’25 and catch that light wherever I can get it. Today, I felt hopeful because I met a 90 year old who wanted to get out of bed to reclaim their title as the puzzle champ despite suffering from a fall that was a major setback. There were tears and also laughs in the stories shared. My gut is telling me the underlying hope is to be working on/with/for a me+ (you+) that knows all that can be available every time I/we need to begin again, and again, and again.

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I will be 10 years sober in February. Though I owe AA my life, I can count on my one hand the times I have been at a twelve step meeting since everything moved to zoom during Covid. I have spent 2024 “recovering” from a relationship that I entered into shortly after exiting the rooms. A relationship that mimicked the addictive cycle of craving, obsession, shame and remorse in every way.

I have peace. But not contentment. There is a restlessness that misses the heart pounding excitement of the chaos. My quest for 2025 is to seek fulfillment without destruction. Is it possible for my addict brain to ever feel fully alive without flying too close to the sun?

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For Christmas 2023, my college roommate sent me a gift that was the undoing of my marriage. It is a bronze octagonal bracelet — the shape of a stop sign. “I saw this and thought of you,” she wrote. “I hope in 2024 you stop taking shit and start demanding better.”

In sobriety, I’ve learned to love little talismans. Little secret things that remind me I’m not alone, that ground me to a higher goal. I got sober with the support of an online Facebook group called the BFB, founded by an author who had written books like “Sippy Cups Are Not For Chardonnay” and “Naptime Is The New Happy Hour.” Her publicists were in panic mode when she announced her sobriety on the eve of a book launch. Anyway, that group used penguins as their icon, because penguins do this amazing thing when it’s storming out. They huddle up in a constantly-moving spiral. The strongest penguins are on the outside, and the weakest are on the inside getting warmed from the body heat of their fellow penguins and feeling the protection from the group. Everyone takes their turn on the inside and the outside. Finding community in early sobriety helped me find a group of women I could huddle up with, and it was amazing to be there for people and to have people I could call on when I needed soothing. So in early sobriety I had tons of penguins. Little charms I could hold onto, reminding me I wasn’t alone. I used little penguins in my life for a couple of years, until I kind of outgrew them.

I wore the stop sign bracelet a lot in 2024. I was wearing it when I told my husband of 26 years I wanted a divorce. I wear it when we are negotiating the fine details of splitting up our lives. Sometimes I just wear it because it looks nice with a stack of other bracelets, and pity the fool who tries to mess with me on those days. (I live in the Midwest, so that never happens.) I think I’m going to have to wear it a lot going into 2025, because there’s still a lot left to do with getting divorced. But I’m hoping that at some point in 2025 I can put that bracelet away, or I’ll forget I even own it. I’m looking forward to outgrowing the stop sign bracelet, because that means I won’t be spending any more Christmas days with someone who’s yelling at everyone because they started drinking at noon and now everything is irritating.

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I could write 2,000 words lamenting all of the nagging issues I’m still obsessing over in sobriety. It’s taking every fiber of my being not to, actually. Instead I want to focus on how much has changed in the last year for the better. I have a couple of freelance jobs after being laid off and unemployed for way longer than I was comfortable with. I have spent countless hours of bliss reading quietly next to my daughters before bedtime. My wife and I have been more open and honest and real with each other than ever before. This feels like bragging but (I think? I hope?) it’s just gratitude. I could write a positive 2,000 words just as easily. I need to remember that.

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As 2024 hikes her skirt readying to leave the party, I’m feeling a pressure change in the air as my window of tolerance seems to have slammed itself shut. On Friday night after crawling into bed exhausted I got an intuitive nudge to google my mom. I’ve seen a lot of discussion online recently about freedom not being free, which deeply resonates. When I started my recovery journey nearly 18 years ago, it became clear with the guidance of a sponsor that staying alive and sober, and being connected to my family of origin, were mutually exclusive endeavors. The fact that I'm here typing this is me waving my freedom flag.

Friday I found out a harsh reality: that sometimes the debt collector on the price of freedom shows up whenever the fuck, however the fuck it wants to. Wrinkled and drowsy from a bath I typed her name into my phone and her obituary appeared on the screen. She had died 72 days prior, in October. I went numb, though after a few minutes I noticed tears streaming down my cheeks onto my pillow.

I’m in the throes of complicated grief. How does one grieve an abusive mother they’ve already been estranged from, who was never capable of connection, nurturing, or providing safety? Thanks to years of recovery work and trauma therapy I am cognizant of the younger parts of myself that never stopped longing for what my Mom didn’t have the capacity to give me. I am figuring out hour by hour that my grief work today is holding space for those inner child parts as they weep and wail knowing she is gone forever — right alongside other parts exhaling in relief that she is gone forever.

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2024 was a year of opposites for me. In big ways, I made no progress. But there were a lot of small wins along the way. I maintained my second year of sobriety, but my weight and my struggles with food continue. I’m starting with a new sponsor in OA for the fifth time (!!) after almost a year without one, and I hope this is my rock bottom. I’m so ready for recovery, but the temptation to numb and take the edge off is so strong. I’ve improved a lot of my issues around the edges, but now I need to set my sights on the big one. I’m rebuilding my professional confidence after a couple years of setbacks, and that drives so much of my low self-esteem which then drives other behaviors. My hope for 2025 is a year of steadily improving health, confidence, self-esteem, sanity, intention, and sobriety for all of us.

*****

Two years ago I took a crack at Dry January — and what do you know? I liked it, and stuck with it for over a year before I stupidly allowed myself a bottle (and then some!) of wine. I say stupidly, because I knew nothing good would come of it. And what do you know? I wound up publicly crying in a hot tub … and then a restaurant ... and had to be tucked into bed before 7pm. Way to go me!

Thankfully, I didn’t fall back into the groove of daily drinking. And I really do feel SO much better for it. I’m sure it was easy-ish to not drink because I'd started using edibles to numb along the way, and swapped getting drunk for getting high instead. Production (work) has been a train wreck since the strikes and me too some days. Me. Too. But I don’t want my kid to grow up with a parent who uses/abuses substances to calm themself … So, I’m taking a crack at being stone cold sober from here on out. Thanks to a holiday vacation (that prevented me from seeking out weed) I got an early jump on January, and haven’t had any since Christmas. I’m feeling more clear headed and productive, and waaaay less hungry. Here’s hoping I can remember my “why” the next time I get frustrated and want to quickly quell my anger/anxiety with whatever is easiest to find. Good luck (said with sincerity) to everyone else on the same adventure.

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What I want more of this year is peace. I’ve been a relatively solid member of Al-Anon since July 2019, and I had expectations about how wise and serene I was going to be by the time I hit five years. All those meetings! All that stepwork! But 2024 brought me to my knees in ways I never want to experience again. By the time my anniversary rolled around, I was unemployed, massively depressed, and unsure whether my twenty-plus year relationship was going to continue. I felt like I’d learned nothing.

I wanted the solution to be dramatic and instant, but crawling back from that place was of course a boring, repetitive process of doing the next right thing. I got medicated for the depression, found a new therapist, took slightly better care of my body, and kept up the meetings, fellowship, and service. When things were particularly dark, it was reading through the The Small Bow archives (replacing the many other websites I look at to feel reliably awful) that made the day feel bearable.

Gradually, I ended up learning the same lesson I thought I’d learned in my first few months of recovery: That the small decisions add up—in both directions. I can decide to take daily actions that put my needs first, feel incrementally better, and be able to help others. Or, I can put something else first, quickly start to suffer, and become a burden to everyone around me. It’s all so infuriatingly simple.

*****

CW: suicidal ideation, domestic abuse

“All I did this year was lose my mind.” This time last year, I sobbed in public while hearing Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” You don’t know what you don’t have until you hear it blasting in a grocery store. I spiraled so much that I had to sign an anti-suicide contract because I admitted to a therapist for the first time in my 20+ years of therapy that I was having ideation (I’ve always been scared to admit this out of fear of the consequences). I cried every day this year. I regret not leaving my partner when they relapsed because empathy for the alcoholic is difficult when they have verbally abused you for years.

And … I survived. I didn’t drink this year. I joined a “double winners” Al-Anon group that has been the community I have desperately needed. I am slowly trying to discover who I am after years of being made small, forced to hide, told to be quiet. I won’t be small, I won’t hide, and I won’t be quiet anything.

*****

I think my resolution for the year is “Try not to make things worse.” I’ve made a career of trying to make things better, which has mostly yielded success in my professional life of responding to other people’s crises, but less so in my own relationships. Trying to make things better probably means that I’m trying too hard to control the outcome, that I am operating from my definition of “better” instead of listening to what other people want. Over the holidays, one side of my family didn't want to discuss my mom’s rapidly declining health and the other stayed at odds with each other despite wanting to feel close. I didn’t try to mediate conflicts that didn’t involve me and I didn’t try to make anyone open up about their fears or admit their problems. And everything turned out to be really, actually okay. I may have even experienced some moments of serenity? The future is going to bring enough challenges of its own. I just have to try not to make it worse.

*****

I’m so tired of saying it. “No, thanks. I’m in recovery.” It’s Christmas Eve and my partner’s aunts are stammering uncomfortably and quantifying their own use (“Just a glass or two, but not that often”), making intense eye contact with my shoelaces. This, still — after eight years of sobriety, the awkward two-step of reassuring the people around me that my choice has nothing to do with theirs. I’m so tired of saying it. My life is good. It’s become manageable. I’m one of the lucky few to have made a career out of peer support. I do not miss the person I would become after my third drink, my fourth. I’m so tired of saying it. I do not believe (anymore) that if I have the first, I’ll be powerless against the second. I’m so tired of saying it. I can’t stop wondering what it would feel like to say something else.

*****

This month I’ll be sober for 14 years (that’s basically a high school freshman). For the first time in these 14 years, I don’t have a sponsor or a sponsee — and I feel okay. That’s what scares me the most. The closest I came to panic was on election night, when anger kept me awake until 3 AM, and I had to fight the urge to numb myself. But other than that, I feel good.

I know this sounds like a typical story of someone returning from a relapse. “I had X years of sobriety, then stopped going to meetings, and one day … [insert crisis], and I picked up again.” That’s always terrified me, which is why I’ve stayed connected to the program — either by sponsoring or being sponsored. But it’s not that I don’t want a sponsee, I just don’t have the time right now.

AA has been my bridge to life. I’m married to a loving husband, a mom to two kids, and I’m lucky to be a stay-at-home mom who volunteers at my children’s schools. I’m learning Spanish to connect with my husband’s family, and I’m working on breaking generational mental health patterns. All of this is possible because of the principles I’ve learned in AA.

But there’s a cloud of guilt: I should have a sponsor, I should be sponsoring others, I should be more involved in the program. I’m not abandoning AA, though — I chair a meeting every other week, read the daily reflection, and keep up with my 10th step. I tried finding a sponsor but felt like I was just checking a box. I’m open to it again, as long as it feels right.

When I first came to AA, I was driven by fear and perfectionism. I did everything people suggested, and it worked. I built self-esteem through action and learned to manage my anxiety. But now, I’m questioning if the work looks different and if I’ll still have peace without it. Maybe I’m not a “bad” sober alcoholic — I’m just an alcoholic, finding my own path.

I have been conducting, somewhat by accident and somewhat by design, my own High Fidelity tour of exes, which has led to some pretty big shoe-drops, the greatest of which is that these guys know so little about me. Why? Cause when I was buzzed, my feelings were suppressed, and I was able to perform the most important duties of dating: shutting up and looking sexy. A sad realization, that. The most recent conversation, with a man I believed I was throwing myself at for years but never took me seriously as a potential romantic partner, really knocked me sideways. He came over Friday morning, and I laid it all out for him over green tea and KCRW. Reader, he simply never knew I was interested. And so now I sit and wonder, for who else am I a mystery? And, what will he do with this information??? I am a handful of M&Ms melting in the palm of the universe’s hand. I think 2025 will be the year of my gooey center. So many feelings and colorful happy little messes will be revealed. I am willing myself to be ok with that.

*****

fin

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OTHER RECENT CHECK-INS:

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This is The Small Bow newsletter. It is mainly written and edited by A.J. Daulerio. And Edith Zimmerman always illustrates it. We send it out every Tuesday and Friday.

You can also get a Sunday issue for $9 a month or $60 per year. The Sunday issue is a recovery bonanza full of gratitude lists, a study guide to my daily recovery routines, a poem I like, the TSB Spotify playlist, and more exclusive essays.

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Thanks for helping us grow.

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ZOOM MEETING SCHEDULE

Monday: 5:30 p.m. PT/ 8:30 p.m ET

Wednesday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET

Thursday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET (Women and non-binary meeting.)

Friday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET

Saturday: Mental Health Focus (Peer support for bipolar/anxiety/depression.) 9:30 a.m. PT/12:30 p.m. ET

Sunday: (Mental Health and Sobriety Support Group.) 1:00 p.m PT/4 p.m. ET

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If you don't feel comfortable calling yourself an "alcoholic," that's fine. If you have issues with sex, food, drugs, DEBT, codependency, love, loneliness, depression, come on in. Newcomers are especially welcome.

FORMAT: CROSSTALK, TOPIC MEETING

We're there for an hour, sometimes more. We'd love to have you.

Meeting ID: 874 2568 6609

PASSWORD TO ZOOM: nickfoles

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A POEM ON THE WAY OUT:

It Filled my Heart with Love

by Stevie Smith

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When I hold in my hand a soft and crushable animal, and feel the fur beat for fear and the soft feather, I cannot feel unhappy.

In the fur the animal rode, and in his fur he strove,
And of it filled my heart my heart, it filled my heart with love.

—All the Poems, Stevie Smith

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In honor of Dry January, Best Day is giving away a Best You Yet Adventure in Jackson Hole with Alpenhof Lodge, Rivian, The North Face, and Yeti (up to a $7,288 value) to one lucky winner and their guest for a 4-day trip between June 1, 2025 - June 30, 2025.

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