Wait. Where's the confetti?

On turning 41 and one year sober today

Welcome back to Behind the Mic — raw reflections from a writing coach, author, and event producer who believes everyone has something worth sharing. A newsletter that puts courage and creativity at center stage.

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Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash

Not only does today mark 41 trips around the sun for me, but it also marks something I’ve been working toward since 2020: one year of no drinking.

Leading up to this, I wrestled with whether to broadcast it. Not because I didn’t want people to know — clearly, I have no problem sharing my schtuff. (I mean, who else posts on Instagram about bringing a box of poop to FedEx?)

One reason I hesitated is that I don’t want my celebration to land the wrong way with someone who might be struggling. I used to feel “less than” when I saw sober posts. But every time I’ve shared bits of my journey in my Insta-Stories, it’s sparked real conversations. People have reached out to say, “Me too,” or “Thank you for this different perspective,” or “I had no idea you’ve struggled with this, and it weirdly makes me feel better.” Sharing has helped me do this in community. So, here I am—posting after all, in hopes it reaches whoever needs it.

Another reason I’ve been shilly-shallying? I thought I had to tell the whole story in one go — why I chose this, how I did it, what I’ve learned, and allll the things. But that’s a lotta pressure. And if The DBP Society has taught me anything, it’s that the bigger the topic for one post or chapter, the faster you’ll get stuck in the writing mud. (So, I’mma save the rest for future letters. Phew.)

But the biggest reason I’ve been wavering — and what I want to focus on today — is this:

This hasn’t felt as exciting as expected.

By this point, I thought there’d be fireworks, rainbows, and a confetti-covered dance party in my soul. I thought a rainbow would be shooting out of my butt.

Instead, it feels like unwrapping a glitter bomb, only to find a single, solemn kazoo inside. Like drinking lukewarm coffee. Like finishing a puzzle and realizing the last piece is gone forever. Not bad. Not tragic. Just…incomplete.

At first, this feeling was driving me nuts. I felt disappointed. I even wondered if I was depressed. But after lots of reflection and reading about all things anti-climaxing, here’s WHY this momentous milestone feels strangely normal:

1: It’s easier now.

It’s no longer a fresh habit. The tension has ceased.

When I reached the 100-day milestone for the second time and even the six-month milestone, that felt huge because it was still new. And even though I still wasn’t feeling as good as I expected to, I did feel deserving of the monthly steak dinners David and I were rewarding ourselves with.

Then, once we hit 10 months, I damn near forgot about it. It had become such a regular thing that it was almost mindless.

It’s like going from never flossing to wanting to do it nightly. At first, it feels like you’re lifting a LOG. But after a month, you’re stringing those teeth on autopilot! It’s no longer even a choice. It’s just something you do.

If you want to hear more about this part of the journey, head to 24:00 in this oh-so-encouraging interview with Ashley Dodge:

View the full interview on LinkedIn or via this public Facebook link.

2: There’s no end in sight.

The first time I reached 100 days, I simply wanted to prove to myself that I could make it that long. It felt more like an external achievement with a finish line. Like a graduation or promotion of sorts.

The second time I reached it, it felt different. Like I was just getting started.

And today, I feel the same way. This milestone isn’t an arrival — it’s now part of my identity. I’m not just seeing how long I can go anymore. I am officially journeying through sobriety.

And that, to me, is way more exciting than a fleeting, built-in confetti moment. This one has legs. This one lasts.

3: I’ve been unknowingly “onto the next”

So, there’s this thing called The Arrival Fallacy. Coined by psychologist Tal Ben-Shahar, it’s the idea that we expect fulfillment to come after we achieve a goal, but when we reach it, it doesn’t feel as big as we thought. Our brains move the goalposts, and we realize that life basically continues as usual.

This totally explains why today’s milestone feels a little lackluster. It also explains why I was more excited to work on new jokes at Monday’s comedy class instead of the set I had been working on for weeks.

My brain was craving a shinier, scarier challenge. And it wasn’t coming from a place of lack or wanting more-more-more.

What it was really asking was:

What else is possible?

And that brings me to something I didn’t plan to write about until I got to this point.

By saying no to alcohol for 365 days for the first time in 20 years, here is what I’ve been able to say yes to:

1. Becoming the morning person I always wanted to be but never thought I could be.

2. Incredibly deep sleep, improved digestion, and decreased anxiety.

3. Treating my body like the sacred vessel it is.

4. Being a calmer, more present, more energized mama, wife, and friend.

5. Not only bringing Moms on the Mic back again but deciding to make it annual.

6. Stand-up fucking comedy!!

7. Noticing things in nature that bring me to tears.

8. Digging back in time, unearthing untold stories, and starting to tell pieces of them.

9. Beginning to return to who I really am.

10. Gaining more courage and confidence with every passing week.

Thank you for sharing in these with me. And as always, thank you for being here with me. (I know there are plenty of places you could be putting your attention, so any time you spend here surely means a lot.)

In a coming newsletter, I’ll dig into more of why I chose this path and exactly how I finally got here.

In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you:

Do you resonate with any of this? Has getting to a big goal or event ever felt anti-climactic? Had you already unknowingly moved onto something else? Are you working towards a new milestone right now? And most importantly: Have you ever farted a rainbow? 🌈 What did you eat??? Talk to me.

Until next time,

P.S. As you may have seen, I’m now hosting monthly writing workshops at Mint & Serif in Lakewood. The first one was supposed to be Feb. 18, but I got sick, so now we’ll be meeting March 4 and there’s ONE seat open! Is it yours?? Get all the deets and the upcoming dates by clicking the image below.