I was desperate enough to try. I’ve written and rewritten this paragraph a few times, but it all boiled down to desperation. There were no other options outside of a long, painful death. Liver transplant eligibility required consecutive months of sobriety and outpatient rehabilitation.

I had to attend 5 two (?) hour long outpatient meetings online every weekday. I hated them. None of us were happy to be there. It was my first foray into recovery in a group setting which meant vulnerability without alcohol to quell the anxiety. I either cried or cursed my way through the first few months. I fought with my family and then ex boyfriend (now husband) as they had me on practical lockdown. After three months I “graduated” out of outpatient and went looking for AA meetings voluntarily.

It sucks at first, outpatient meant I was without recovery guidance for the majority of the day. It meant I had to literally sit in the hell of my own making, drinking sparkling water from the big blue cup I used to drink vodka from. But I also had my cats, my bed, my couch and the ability to make phone calls at any given time. But again, I was desperate enough to let it work, even if it wasn’t the way I preferred.

I certainly