It's January. For me, that means seasonal depression. On top of that, I'm feeling tremendous pressure with this non-profit. I gave up my job for this. It's so scary to be dependent on the generosity of total strangers. It's very frustrating to have all these big goals and ideas, but to experience such slow progress each day. I know I'm doing my very best, yet I'm still not satisfied.
As I write this, I'm reminded of a day last January when I really wanted to drink. I even went to the liquor store, bought my drink of choice (a bottle of whiskey), and sat it in front of myself on the coffee table as I cried in total despair. I stared at that bottle for several minutes. At this point, I had been sober a little over 1 year - I had worked so hard to get to that point, but I was ready to break.
For whatever reason, I called my mom. I told her I was struggling. Her reply was one that I will never, ever forget: