
There is a sign on Interstate 70 eastbound in the Floyd Hill area just before you exit the Rocky Mountains headed for Denver that says, “Attention Truckers: You Are Not Down Yet – Four More Miles of Steep and Winding Highway.” I am in pretty close contact with a lot of people who are navigating the holidays sober for the first time. If you are one of those people, that message on I70 is meant for you.
If you made it through Halloween without drinking, I am proud of you. Congratulations if you successfully abstained through Thanksgiving. That is awesome. If you waded through the excesses and overindulgence of December, including Christmas Day, and you protected your sobriety, that is outstanding. But don’t drop your guard now. There is a lot of work and immediate threat staring you in the face, and I’m not talking about New Year’s Eve.






One day at a time. I hate that dogma. When I needed to get sober, the idea of thinking about it each day – making a daily commitment not to drink – felt like a form of imprisonment. I wanted to make a permanent lifestyle choice and move on. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t underestimating the gravity of the decision.
We tell our teenagers not to drink, then follow it up with, “If you do drink, don’t ever drive.” Leaving out the second part would be parental neglect even though it tacitly undermines the instruction to abstain altogether. Kids understand where we draw the line in the sand. Not drinking becomes a strong suggestion with limited consequences. As parents, we are in one of the many impossible situations inherent in loving teenagers.
My neighbor shouted to me over the fence that he had an extra ticket to the ballgame, and asked me if I wanted to join him and his friends. I was two weeks sober and determined not to let my affliction ruin my life – social or otherwise. “Thanks – sounds like fun!” I shouted back. I boldly told him I wasn’t going to drink and I could drive the whole group there and back. He looked a little dismayed at my proclamation and offer, but mostly thankful that I’d solved a problem for him.