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Thirty days can feel like a lifetime
in the flattest, most borrowed moments.

Thirty days of fluorescent lights.
Thirty days of rules.
Thirty days of group.
Of check-ins.
Of charts and chairs and shared silence.

Thirty days of tracking
the ups and downs
and ups and downs
of sobriety.

But also—
thirty days of sobriety.

For the first time in decades,
I have thirty days.

That feels like a win.

A win with structure.
With rules.
With bubble wrap still on the corners.

But still—

Thirty days of being myself.
Thirty days of taking off the mask.
Thirty days of feeling all the feelings
instead of managing them.
Thirty days of softness.
Thirty days of falling in love.

The next thirty days are a little scary.

The re-entry.
The noise.
The choices.
The freedom that cuts both ways.

The possibilities—
good and bad—
waiting on the other side
of the doors I’m about to walk through.

But I don’t need to make
the next thirty days great.

I just need to make today great.

I just need to be myself.
To be honest.
To be loved.
To be light.

To make someone else’s day
a little better.

I have thirty days,
and I feel good.

I can lighten someone else’s load.
I can be of service.
I can build something that feels like community.

I can prioritize myself
without disappearing from the world.

I can do the hard work.
I can love.
I can be loved.

I have thirty days.
And today,
that is enough.

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