11/11 today!! 11 months, 11 days! The first time I have been sober this long in 8 years! I’m so damn proud of myself!!

11/11 today!! 11 months, 11 days! The first time I have been sober this long in 8 years! I’m so damn proud of myself!!

11/11 Today!! 11 Months, 11 Days Sober — The First Time in 8 Years!

Today is something special.
Actually, scratch that—today is a damn miracle.
Because today marks 11 months and 11 days since I got sober. And for the first time in eight long years, I can say I’ve made it this far. I don’t know what the universe has planned for me after this, but right now, in this moment, I feel stronger than I’ve ever felt.

I’m not posting this for likes. I’m not writing this for applause.
I’m writing this because I earned this moment—and I want to remember it forever.

For eight years, addiction had its claws in me. Some days I barely noticed it. Other days it was all-consuming. It didn’t always look like chaos from the outside—sometimes I wore a smile, went to work, laughed at jokes, and pretended everything was okay. But inside? I was numb. Lost. Trying to fill holes that only kept getting deeper.

There were mornings I couldn’t remember the night before. There were promises I made that I didn’t keep. Friends I pushed away. Calls I ignored. Moments I missed.
But the worst part? I started to believe I’d never get out of it. I thought this was just my life. My identity. My curse.

But something changed.

I hit a point where the pain of staying the same finally became greater than the fear of change. And I made a decision.
I said, “Enough.”
One day at a time, I started to put the pieces back together.

The first few days were brutal. I won’t lie. Withdrawal is ugly. It tests every part of your body and soul. The nights were long. The cravings were intense. The self-doubt was loud. But I kept going. Sometimes by the minute. Sometimes by the hour. I went to meetings. I leaned on people who understood. I journaled. I screamed. I cried. I apologized. I forgave myself slowly.

I relearned how to live.

I stopped waking up ashamed. I started remembering conversations. I stopped hiding. I started showing up—for others, but more importantly, for myself.

Now, 11 months and 11 days later, I look in the mirror and I recognize the person staring back.
That wasn’t always the case.

I’ve had milestones along the way. One month. Three months. Six months. Each one was a mountain, and each one came with its own tests. There were days I felt amazing, and days I felt like quitting. There were moments I craved the escape. Times when the stress and emotions piled up and I thought, just one wouldn’t hurt.
But I kept coming back to the truth:
One is too many, and a thousand is never enough.

Today, I carry clarity instead of chaos. I hold my head higher. I speak with more honesty. I breathe deeper. I don’t need something outside of me to feel okay inside anymore.

And what makes this moment—11/11—even more surreal is the symbolism.
Eleven-eleven. It’s often said to be a sign of alignment. Awakening. A portal for manifestation and change. I don’t know if that’s all true, but what I do know is this: something about this moment feels aligned. It feels sacred.

I’m not perfect. I still have tough days. I still wrestle with anxiety, with self-doubt, with the wreckage of who I used to be. But I don’t run from it anymore. I face it, sober. And that is a kind of strength I never thought I had.

To anyone out there who’s still in the fight—let me say this as loud and clear as I can:
You can do this.
Even if it’s been years. Even if you’ve tried before and slipped. Even if no one else believes in you.
You are not broken. You are healing.
Progress, not perfection.
One day. One choice. One breath at a time.

To my past self: I forgive you. You were doing your best with what you knew.
To my present self: I’m proud of you. Look how far you’ve come.
To my future self: Keep going. There’s more life ahead than behind. And it’s going to be beautiful.

So here’s to 11 months and 11 days.
To the version of me I never thought I’d become.
To the strength I didn’t know I had.
To the light I finally found after walking through so much darkness.
And to anyone reading this who needed to hear it—your 11/11 can come too. Keep holding on.

I’m so damn proud of myself. And I’m not turning back.
Not now. Not ever.