Sometimes the hardest days in recovery can become the most meaningful. This is a story about one of my worst days sober — and what I learned by simply continuing forward.

While on a call with my besty earlier, the saying came up that we've heard many times in the rooms of AA over the years:

“My worst day sober is far better than my best day drunk.”

I get it. I agree with it.

But every time I hear it, my head goes all the way back 30-plus years to a houseboat in the middle of Lake Don Pedro.

I was in my twenties. I didn't drink often back then, but when I did, I was usually all in. When I say I was buzzed, I'm sure most folks would have called it drunk. But I was feeling good.

I had decided it would be awesome to jump off the top roof of the houseboat into the lake and swim around for a bit.

So I did.

When I was done and swam back to the ladder to climb onto the boat, a few people were pretty disturbed. They told me a boat pulling jet skiers could have hit me.

I blew them off as lame asses because I'd already looked around for safety hazards and didn't see any water skiers.

I did, however, appreciate their concern and took notice. I understood what they were saying. I understood that someone coming through the water could have had a difficult time seeing me.

That was that.

I opened another beer and kicked it.

The houseboat was sitting still out in the middle of a massive lake. I went off the slide a few times and even jumped off the back and swam closer to the houseboat to let everyone know I had heard them.

When the boat eventually started making its way back toward the dock area where we'd stay for the night, I decided it would be a good idea to jump off the roof again and swim back.

So I did.

This time, I wasn't too far from the buoy marking the area where the speed limit told boats to slow down.

I swam around for about ten minutes or so and eventually got back on the boat.

It was a fun weekend in my twenties drinking.

Isn't it kind of hilarious that when I hear the words “my best day drunk,” my mind immediately takes me three decades back to remember a fun time drinking?

I'm sure I had other times when I had a blast drinking too. But that's the one that comes to mind.

And if you were a friend of mine who went drinking with me back then, you know it was always a guessing game as to how drunk I'd get or what would happen.

Let me apologize for that here and now.

Not really. 😂

But you probably do deserve an apology—and maybe an award—for taking care of me however you did.

Embarrassing. SMH.

Drinking turned out not to be so much fun in my late thirties. When I went back to drinking in my forties, it became downright miserable.

There were chunks of each decade when I didn't drink for a while. Usually sports were the motivation. I didn't want to lose a sponsorship. I wanted to be able to play well. I didn't want to turn into some of the people I'd seen get completely messed up by alcohol.

And every time I went on the wagon, I really enjoyed the feeling.

I could do anything. Go anywhere. Anytime. No worry.

Because I was sober.

That freedom was an incredible feeling, and it was new to me.

But if I ever decided to party or drink with friends, I'd always get shitty drunk. There was no telling what I'd do.

In my forties, things started getting really bad.

When you drink like I do, you don't stop until your body shuts off or you're forced to stop for whatever reason.

I never got into the drugs that would've allowed me to continue drinking. I always thought alcohol was okay and drugs were bad, gross and illegal.

Athletes drank.

They didn't do drugs.

That's how I thought.

Plus, the thought of staying up for days wasn't exactly appealing to me.

So yes, there were some good times. There were fun times being drunk or drinking.

But that saying hits differently today.

My worst day sober is far better than my best day drunk.

I'm living a sober life, but much more importantly, I'm an active member of the Twelve Step program of Alcoholics Anonymous.

And AA has taught me more than I ever thought the program was about.

I thought AA was about keeping me from drinking.

My head always told me that was crazy.

No matter how many meetings I went to, how much I read, or what else I did, at the end of the day, I believed it was simply a decision I made.

Drink or don't drink.

Nothing AA could do would change that.

Well, after years of trying to do this program, what I can say today is that I missed the boat altogether.

If you jump into this program and actually do it the way it's outlined, while learning to live through spiritual principles, your thinking begins to change.

Slowly but surely, the thinking shifts.

You do the things.

You practice the principles.

You live differently.

And then, almost all of a sudden, you realize you have a better way to deal with the life that used to baffle you.

That was my problem.

I had a thinking problem and no real way to handle what life threw at me.

I was confused about everything.

And when I couldn't figure life out, my solution was to drink.

Today, I'm not nearly as confused.

And when I am baffled, I have confidence that I have a guide for living.

I actually use the playbook of Alcoholics Anonymous to navigate through this confusing, sad, lonely and frustrating world.

And drinking is the farthest thing from my mind.

It's just not a thing.

It's not a thought.

I'm a slow learner.

I'm stubborn.

I'm full of myself.

I've always believed there was nothing I couldn't beat or overcome.

But this?

This was something I needed a power greater than myself for.

I know without any doubt that I can't overcome this by myself.

I need God.

I need the program.

I need the people.

I need the spiritual principles.

I'm still not awesome at it.

But I'm getting there.

Progress each day.

I'm certainly not living Sean's will as much as I used to, and I'm walking in God's will more.

I got a glimpse of what that could look like the weekend my father passed away.

It was the first time I can remember actually asking God to walk me through something.

I knew I wasn't going to be able to handle it by myself.

I was afraid.

And when I get afraid, I get rageful and do what's comfortable.

Fight.

I'd thrown my arms in the air standing in front of Philz Coffee in Campbell and asked God to take me through what I was about to deal with.

I thought I was going to throw a doctor through a wall.

I thought I was going to kick the hospital's ass.

I thought I'd be a blubbering idiot, overwhelmed by the sadness of losing my hero.

None of that happened.

What happened was the most peaceful closure of a great man's life.

We were all there with him during his last few days.

I was able to tell him how lucky I was.

How fortunate I was that he was my dad.

I told him I'd never have been able to accomplish the things I had without him.

He squeezed my hand.

It was a blessing that he had a breathing tube in and was forced to listen.

Just listen.

He went peacefully.

That experience changed something in me.

So whenever I'm judging others, angry or resentful, I know I'm in my will.

And that doesn't go well.

That's when I try reverse action.

Love.

Compassion.

Understanding.

The less we think of ourselves, the better we are.

Hell, the better everyone is.

Can you imagine a world where human beings think less of themselves?

Wow.

My worst day sober still sucks when it sucks.

Whatever I'm going through, whatever hurts, whatever feels unfair, whatever makes me sad, lonely, frustrated or afraid—it's still real.

But I wouldn't trade it in for anything.

I wouldn't trade it for being drunk and having a blast.

Because I know with every fiber of my being that for me, drinking means chaos.

It means an unmanageable life.

It means wreckage.

Even though my life isn't exactly what I'd like it to be, it's better than it has been in many years.

And it's mine to own.

Mine to create.

Mine to continue building.

If I'm drinking, I can't create the life I want.

Today I'm grateful for the conversations I've had with others who live this life through AA and spiritual principles.

I'm grateful my heart is filled with joy and hope.

I'm grateful that when I get fearful, I have a guide for living—as if it were a playbook for life.

And I'm super grateful that I'm proud of becoming closer to the man God wanted me to be all along.

So yeah...

My worst day sober is still better than my best day drunk.

Not because every sober day is easy.

It's because today, when life gets hard, I have a way to live through it.

And that's freedom.

Lean4ward!