first of all, i can't believe i haven't seen anyone use this post title yet.

secondly, yes, i know that a quarter of the year has already gone by. sue me.

i'll turn 30 in October. and—if i'm being honest—i've never thought i'd make it to 30. a part of me still isn't convinced. i always thought i'd end up killing myself before i got there. depression is a real bitch, and for as long as long as i can remember i haven't really had an extended period of emotional stability.

i guess that's life on the Serengeti, though.

but today marks another very important milestone: i'm a full month sober.

yep.

no drugs, no alcohol, not even a vape.

i've gone sober before, but my longest streak in the last 10 years has probably only been 100 days, and i'm pretty sure that was only for weed—i think i still drank and possibly smoked hookah. plus, it was easily 7 years ago or more.

this time is different though.

i don't miss any of it, and it's not "to prove i can," or as a tolerance break, or to pass a drug test, or any of that.

i just simply don't want to anymore.

i'll be honest with you, though: i didn't quite do it on my own. i did some recreational ketamine and that's when the switch flipped. it’s true that i had wanted to at least reduce my consumption for a while by that point, but during that trip i saw what was happening to me, and i...

... well, i didn't like it. at all.

i didn't even enjoy the ketamine. i just wanted out.

so here i am, one month later.

and i haven't looked back. at all.

i'm facing life more and more every day, but those muscles have gotten pretty weak. most of the time, it feels like walking directly into a windstorm—you've gotta hide your face, you can't look straight at it. you just keep walking forward, even if you're not sure where you're going. there's a lot of squinting involved. and trust. and confusion. and... resentment, too. there's a lot of resentment, for sure. it's like i just woke up, and i'm just angry that someone dropped me into a storm, but… that person was me.

it's good for me, though. i know that.

still, just understanding that doesn't exactly make it easier.

it's been so interesting, though. sobriety has actually been easy as fuck.

it's life that's been fucking hard.

it's a difficult question to answer honestly, what with the wind and rain. at every step, i just want to sit down and give up, but at some point i'm gonna have to start making decisions that aren't just "forward," or this new life i'm living isn't gonna be any different than the one i had when i was drinking and getting high every day.

i think there's a few things i've gotta do for sure, though.

• i've gotta develop real relationships.

i'm an air nomad and an introvert. it is extremely easy for me to drop friends and walk away from social circles. i've always thought that the only person i really need in my life is me. the irony is that i haven't even been tending to myself for some time now, instead letting the current of my social life sweep me along.

• i've gotta start writing again.

and i probably don't even need to publish the majority of it. i just need to start putting my thoughts into a sequential order so that i can see how destructive some of them are. my instinctive patterns revolve around letting my anxious brain grab the reigns and run me in circles until i eventually get somewhere. maybe i end up somewhere good in the end, but i'm typically riding through a lot of awful, awful places to get there. it's time to start making a map so i don't spend so much time in the badlands.

• it's time to put down roots.

values. principles. intentional care. kindness. love—these aren't air plants. they don't thrive by just hanging them in the sunlight and spritzing them with water. they need foundation. they need something firm to stretch into. they need something to give to, and for there to be enough life around them that they can give back. they need grounding. they need earth. so it's time to stop floating on the wind. it's time to land.

...yep.

it's time to land.

i don't want to turn 30 and think, "oh, i should really get my life together, because apparently this isn't the end."

and i don't want to live this year looking forward to 30 like that's my goal.

it's not.

today is my goal.

when you're confused and anxious and scared, you're looking for shelter. every moment feels like the brink of annihilation, and every day feels like a curse you're desperately trying to escape. you want to be somewhere else.

and that's the crux of it.

i want to stop wanting to be somewhere else.

i want to be here.

i want to stop pushing through the rain and, for just a moment, take the time to put a tree in the ground.

and maybe, just maybe, i'll be able to stand under that tree, ...

... and think to myself, as it sways in the wind, deflecting the rain, ...

first of all, i can't believe i haven't seen anyone use this post title yet.

secondly, yes, i know that a quarter of the year has already gone by. sue me.

i'll turn 30 in October. and—if i'm being honest—i've never thought i'd make it to 30. a part of me still isn't convinced. i always thought i'd end up killing myself before i got there. depression is a real bitch, and for as long as long as i can remember i haven't really had an extended period of emotional stability.

i guess that's life on the Serengeti, though.

but today marks another very important milestone: i'm a full month sober.

yep.

no drugs, no alcohol, not even a vape.

i've gone sober before, but my longest streak in the last 10 years has probably only been 100 days, and i'm pretty sure that was only for weed—i think i still drank and possibly smoked hookah. plus, it was easily 7 years ago or more.

this time is different though.

i don't miss any of it, and it's not "to prove i can," or as a tolerance break, or to pass a drug test, or any of that.

i just simply don't want to anymore.

i'll be honest with you, though: i didn't quite do it on my own. i did some recreational ketamine and that's when the switch flipped. it’s true that i had wanted to at least reduce my consumption for a while by that point, but during that trip i saw what was happening to me, and i...

... well, i didn't like it. at all.

i didn't even enjoy the ketamine. i just wanted out.

so here i am, one month later.

and i haven't looked back. at all.

i'm facing life more and more every day, but those muscles have gotten pretty weak. most of the time, it feels like walking directly into a windstorm—you've gotta hide your face, you can't look straight at it. you just keep walking forward, even if you're not sure where you're going. there's a lot of squinting involved. and trust. and confusion. and... resentment, too. there's a lot of resentment, for sure. it's like i just woke up, and i'm just angry that someone dropped me into a storm, but… that person was me.

it's good for me, though. i know that.

still, just understanding that doesn't exactly make it easier.

it's been so interesting, though. sobriety has actually been easy as fuck.

it's life that's been fucking hard.

it's a difficult question to answer honestly, what with the wind and rain. at every step, i just want to sit down and give up, but at some point i'm gonna have to start making decisions that aren't just "forward," or this new life i'm living isn't gonna be any different than the one i had when i was drinking and getting high every day.

i think there's a few things i've gotta do for sure, though.

• i've gotta develop real relationships.

i'm an air nomad and an introvert. it is extremely easy for me to drop friends and walk away from social circles. i've always thought that the only person i really need in my life is me. the irony is that i haven't even been tending to myself for some time now, instead letting the current of my social life sweep me along.

• i've gotta start writing again.

and i probably don't even need to publish the majority of it. i just need to start putting my thoughts into a sequential order so that i can see how destructive some of them are. my instinctive patterns revolve around letting my anxious brain grab the reigns and run me in circles until i eventually get somewhere. maybe i end up somewhere good in the end, but i'm typically riding through a lot of awful, awful places to get there. it's time to start making a map so i don't spend so much time in the badlands.

• it's time to put down roots.

values. principles. intentional care. kindness. love—these aren't air plants. they don't thrive by just hanging them in the sunlight and spritzing them with water. they need foundation. they need something firm to stretch into. they need something to give to, and for there to be enough life around them that they can give back. they need grounding. they need earth. so it's time to stop floating on the wind. it's time to land.

...yep.

it's time to land.

i don't want to turn 30 and think, "oh, i should really get my life together, because apparently this isn't the end."

and i don't want to live this year looking forward to 30 like that's my goal.

it's not.

today is my goal.

when you're confused and anxious and scared, you're looking for shelter. every moment feels like the brink of annihilation, and every day feels like a curse you're desperately trying to escape. you want to be somewhere else.

and that's the crux of it.

i want to stop wanting to be somewhere else.

i want to be here.

i want to stop pushing through the rain and, for just a moment, take the time to put a tree in the ground.

and maybe, just maybe, i'll be able to stand under that tree, ...

... and think to myself, as it sways in the wind, deflecting the rain, ...