My name is Morgan, and I’m an alcoholic.
I’ve never been a daily drinker, but when I start, I don’t stop. I’m what you’d call a “party girl”—loud, hyper, messy, always down for a wild time once the drinks kick in. I’ve got plenty of physical scars to show for it: drunken mountain biking
, car surfing, falling into campfires, diving into the shallow end of a pool (yeah, that happened 
).
But the mental scars? Those cut deeper. Fights with family, one-night stands, a DUI, domestic violence, neglectful parenting… the list hurts to admit, but it’s real.
I started drinking about 20 years ago because, at my core, I’ve always felt awkward. Sober me is quiet, anxious, unsure. I had a hard time connecting with people growing up—always the “kids should be seen and not heard” type, so my social skills never had room to grow. Then I found alcohol, and suddenly I had an alter ego. I was funny, bold, energetic. People liked me. I liked me.
But eventually, alcohol stopped being the fun sidekick and became the monster running the show. My boundaries, my morals, my sense of self—they’d all vanish with a drink. And now, two decades later, I’m just… tired. Tired of the chaos. Tired of waking up ashamed. Tired of abandoning myself.
So here I am, finally ready to break the cycle. I want to heal. I want to be comfortable with my sober self—the awkward, quiet, unsure girl who’s learning to be enough without a buzz.
I live in the middle of nowhere, so in-person meetings aren’t exactly doable. Online ones feel awkward as hell, but I know I need to try. I’ve deleted most of my social media because it was just making me more anxious and disconnected. I’m hoping this becomes my space—my safe place to fall apart and rebuild.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. I’m Morgan. I’m new here. I’m sober today. And I really, really want to stay that way.
Funny thing is… I was actually sober in the above picture.
And honestly? I was kind of proud of myself. I wanted a drink so bad. I was at my son’s football game, dressed like a total goofball for one of those theme nights. I nailed the look—but inside, I was crawling out of my skin.
I was surrounded by people. Judgy people. The kind who know my past, my reputation, my mess-ups. And being around them sober felt like standing under a spotlight with no armor.
But I stayed sober. I didn’t drink.
Even though I wanted to escape, numb out, disappear—I didn’t. I showed up awkward, uncomfortable, and vulnerable… but I showed up. And I’m learning that maybe that’s something to be proud of too.
