LOL Sober

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It’s that time of year again where people make resolutions. That means for me, I say (again) that I ate way too many donuts this past year and I need to stop eating so many freaking donuts in 2022… and then I white-knuckle it for 15 days before I slam three vanilla-frosteds in the Dunkin parking lot behind a dumpster.

Yep, resolution time. I’m mostly kidding around. It’s been a few years since I did the Jan. 1 resolution thing. But I’ve made many resolutions over the years—including about drinking and drugging when I was active. And I have a very low batting average on setting a resolution on Jan. 1 and then following through. That seems like a pretty normal thing—I drove past a packed gym parking lot on Jan. 3 and couldn’t help but think there’d be some more parking spots available on Feb. 3, and then on March 3.

But I’ll say two positive things about New Year’s resolutions and how effective they can be.

One is that on social media, I saw quite a few people celebrating their anniversaries on Jan. 1. So that means there are a lot of people out there who hit their bottom at the end of another addiction year and then did indeed get sober. So that’s awesome. I joke around about New Year’s resolution sobriety and also geographical moves being the clean break an alcoholic or addict might need because I failed with both of those things in the past… but I’ve met people who that actually IS the moment when they had just enough momentum to finally make a big change. Bravo, glad you got there.

The second thing is that sometimes a failed New Year’s resolution isn’t actually a fail. Sometimes a New Year’s resolution is the 13th vow you make, and it ultimately takes 19 more promises before you actually alter a behavior. And, according to, you know, math, you can’t count to No. 32 without including No. 13 in there along the way.

That’s been the case for me. I think I probably made five New Year’s resolutions where I promised myself I was going to stop drinking or cut down… and I whiffed on all five. Those failures ultimately played a part in me actually having some success.

Because it takes what it takes, right? I’ve probably broken 10 really harmful habits over the years, ranging from stuff that could kill me, like drugs and alcohol, to stuff that might kill me but it will take awhile, like nicotine, gambling and donuts, with a bunch of other smaller things in there. For instance, one year I decided on Jan. 1 to stop swearing for the year and I got to like Jan. 7 before I was like, “Son of a b***h, that a*****e…”

And with each one of those, it took more than one time of making the resolution and then following through. It took repeatedly saying I was going to stop or slow down on something, then failing, before I finally made a change.

So when I think about it that way… did my New Year’s resolution fail? Or was it a down payment on an important future change? I like to think of it more as that second description, as an investment that didn’t work out that time but ultimately paid off big-time.

Happy New Year. I hope if you’re looking to make a change, you make it. And if not, maybe crush a donut and then try again tomorrow.

In case you missed it, I put together a fun mini comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes. Check it out HERE! (It’s behind a paywall)

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

An old drunk opened his morning paper and was shocked to read in the obituary column that he had died. He quickly phoned his best drinking buddy.

“Did you see the paper?” asked the old boozer. “They say I’ve died!”

"Yes, I saw it!" replied his buddy. "So, which place are you calling from?"

(Credit: AA Grapevine, June 2006, from Frank P. of Rockmart, Georgia)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. Heads up to my paid subscribers that I have a fun comedy thing coming your way at the end of the month—thank you so much for your support. Keep an eye out for that!

We just got back from a holiday trip to Pennsylvania and it was quite the undertaking. I ended up spending some time asking myself, “Why is this so freaking hard? It’s a bunch of people I love, celebrating a holiday I love. What the hell?”

Allow me to moan and groan for a bit—I promise I have a worthwhile point if you hang with me. Because this is what we train for, isn’t it?

It’s not so much that getting heartfelt gifts for everybody in your life is so impossible.

Or that driving four hours with your kids is enough to melt your spiritual soul.

Or that hanging out with in-laws for a few hours is the worst thing in the world.

It’s that all of these things all happen at the same exact time.

So, in that way, the holidays are the Olympics. And I feel like an Olympian, building up my stamina and spirituality all year to compete in one signature event that will test everything I worked so hard for. And this year, I gotta say, I deserve a gold medal. Or maybe a silver. Perhaps a bronze.

Okay, fine, just give me a participation ribbon or something. But I made it, and if you made it through, too, congratulations, welcome to the podium. Enjoy a medal, compliments of me.

Here’s how my trip went. My wife and kids and I all jumped in the minivan and headed for Pennsylvania. It’s about a four-hour drive, and it always feels like 100 hours. Always. It has never NOT felt like that. I’m not sure why my expectations always seem to be that this is the time five people will drive for a miniseries-long trip and not have issues.

This time, my youngest was car sick within 10 minutes. And she didn’t pack any pajamas… or shoes. Yep, she waddled out to the car for a three-day trip without any shoes to wear. What an inconsiderate jerk, right?

It DEFINITELY didn’t have anything to do with me, a grown-ass adult who did not check a 7-year-old’s luggage to make sure she properly packed. Nope, couldn’t be that.

We grinded out the trip, though, and arrived at our AirBnb around 4 p.m. Of course, my mother-in-law was calling and giving us a hard time about not getting there earlier, which always warms my heart and makes me want to rush even more to get over there to catch some s**t in person about my family’s timeliness. Yay!

We went over to her house, and had a fine evening. The kids had nothing to do so they performed our family’s national past-time for about three hours: They bickered and crossed their arms and yelled at each other, then they yelled at me. What a delightful evening, huh?

At one point, I camped out in the bathroom and meditated for five minutes, then I said a little prayer. As I have said many times, I don’t understand prayer but I find it very effective. I don’t have a firm higher power that I’m praying to. I just do it because I know I am not a higher power, that there are bigger things than me and that I have faith in the universe when I put out a prayer.

By the time we left to go back to the AirBnb, it was 8 p.m. and we hadn’t had dinner. I felt like a loose grizzly bear, ready to maim and kill and eat something. We ordered pizza to pick up on the way home, and, as I usually do when I go food-shopping on an empty stomach, I ordered twice as much chow as we needed.

We got back to the AirBnb and I started eating my feelings. I had five pieces of taco pizza—yes, a pizza with taco meat, lettuce, tomatoes and taco sauce on top of it—and then a bunch of dessert items, including an enormous whoopee pie and some gummy bears.

When we went to bed, everybody was complaining how hot it was upstairs. I told them all to suck it up and stop the whining… then I got upstairs and oh my god, it was like an unwanted hot yoga class up there. The thermostat was set at 70 degrees and it was 35 degrees outside, but it was one of those old homes with radiators and wood floors where the second floor is like renting an apartment at the top of a volcano. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the upstairs of the house was about 90 degrees, even with windows open.

The kids were a mess getting to bed, especially my 7-year-old. There’s this thing that happens with little kids where they get so tired that they’re not tired at all, and it’s a little like they become possessed once they cross a certain amount of time past their bedtime. So we had to try to do an exorcism while reading Peter Rabbit stories in a sauna.

Finally, though, everybody went to bed. I woke up at about 3 am with that “Uh-oh” stomach churn and I ran into the bathroom and barfed up a lot of taco pizza. Lemme tell you, as gross as that sounds… it was even grosser than you’re imagining. Eventually I felt better and went back to bed. I did pause for a moment and feel some gratitude about how many holidays I spent up all night puking because of drugs and alcohol, and it was A LOT. I am so glad I don’t have to live like that any more.

I’ll fast forward a bit. The trip ended up being long and bumpy, but my mother-in-law called me when we got home to give a special thanks. She said the trip meant so much to her, that she loved every minute of it, and that she wanted to specifically say thanks to me for chauffeuring everybody all over the East Coast to make it happen.

I mean, what else can you ask for? That is why we get sober, isn’t it? To bring love and light to the world, and to be of service, even when it’s a brutal minivan ride away, even when it involves prickly kids, even when I am a bit player in the festivities… and yes, even when you get violently ill from taco pizza.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

A police officer was heard asking a DUI suspect, “Just how big were those two beers?”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, May 2006, from Richard M. of Golden, Colorado_

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. Heads up to my paid subscribers that I have a fun comedy thing coming your way at the end of the month—thank you so much for your support. Keep an eye out for that!

A few years ago, a friend of mine found out his wife was pregnant and he asked me a very open-ended question.

“What’s it like? What do I need to know?” he asked.

I said, “Well, at the end of every year, I always think about how my 10 best moments of the year all involved my kids… and so did my 10 worst.”

I was joking, of course, but I do find that to be a decent approximation. Having kids is a rollercoaster, with plenty of ups and plenty of downs. I think the down moments ultimately fade away and the good ones stick around, but I’ve found it to be a constant scuffle no matter how sober I am feeling. My mother-in-law once said, “Good luck, kids will drive you to drink.” I certainly took her up on that for awhile.

And make no mistake, the rollercoaster of sober parenting is a good thing. I feel the joy of the ups and the sting of the downs because I am not numb all day from booze and pills any more, and I care deeply for my kids as a sober dad. Many of my biggest motivations in life are to provide for them.

I’m thinking about all of this because on Christmas, it was the best of both extremes of the rollercoaster. The present-opening began at around 8 am and I was proud to look out at the living room and see nice mounds of gifts for each kid. They all had smiles on their faces. Yay!

Then the Christmas shitshow began. My 7-year-old wanted to open all of hers one after the other, and my two older kids wanted to take turns. We thought they were right, so we enforced the rule of rotating gifts and that went over like a can of fart spray in a church. The next two hours—yes, it took two full hours to just open the gifts because of all the bickering and tears and stops and starts and bathroom breaks—were a brutal display of the kids showcasing their worst tendencies of self-centeredness, acting out, over-reacting, greediness and snippy attitudes.

I found myself clamping down my jaw because I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. But part of that is because what I was watching was my own character defects—they’re my factory settings, too. And it always hits me when my kids act like a mirror in front of my face how daunting that part of sobriety can be.

Not only do I have to not run away with a bottle pills and a cooler of beer, I need to keep working on myself and try to shave down those sharp edges within me… and then I also need to be the kind of dad who helps their kids work through those character defects themselves. Holy s**t, that’s a lot. You should double my pay, God.

After two hours, I wasn’t very helpful to the spiritual condition of the room. So I excused myself to lay down and sleep a little more—the old H.A.L.T. acronym of Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired is a real freaking thing during the holidays. When I got up, I felt quite a bit better and figured I’d try to aim any irritation toward a more healthy spot, so I went in to clean up the kitchen.

As I washed the dishes, I could hear some shitty attitudes flaring up in the other room and I could feel my head start to shake and my teeth start to grind a little bit again. Right about then, I had a small glass shatter in my hand. It basically just exploded. All of the glass went down into one side of the sink somehow, and I only ended up with one tiny piece stuck in my finger. I stared down at the broken glass and felt great gratitude because that could have been a lot worse than it was.

Everybody came in and helped me clean up the glass, and I immediately saw the flip side to the bickering. We love each other. We really do. The bickering is usually because we do care so deeply about each other—I don’t really bother bickering with random people at Walgreens, you know?

So we cleaned up the kitchen, and everybody took some time apart from each other, and the rest of the day was pretty beautiful. We were blessed enough to have each other—and blessed enough to have separate rooms to retire to for a halftime break. Later that night, we watched Christmas Vacation, had some laughs and went to bed.

All in all, it was a top-10 day. Maybe a bottom-10 one, too. But I’ll probably forget that part of the equation in a few days.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

After the husband’s fifth trip to the host’s bar for refills, the wife asked, “Aren’t you embarrassed to go back so many time?”

Husband: “Nope. I keep telling them it’s for you.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, May 1971)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. Heads up to my par subscribers that I have a fun comedy thing coming your way at the end of the month—thank you so much for your support. If you want to hear or read that one and you aren’t a paid subscriber, you can either sign up now or when I release it.

Happy holidays! I hope 2021 has been a sober, positive spiritual journey for you. It certainly has been for me.

Which brings me to the idea that I don’t want to flush it all down the toilet with terrible behaviors around the upcoming holidays as I navigate a minivan full of kids and crap all over the East Coast.

So with that in mind, I put together a small list of things I’m planning on doing to stay sober—and sane—this holiday season. I tried to avoid the basics that everybody should know (get to a meeting, pray, meditate, call sober friends, etc.).

—1. WEAPONIZE PRAYER

I had a recent project that was eating me up inside and burning through my spiritual gas tank—I remember feeling like my tank was similar to the electricity meter in Christmas Vacation when the Griswolds turn on the lights outside and the energy being burned skyrockets. One thing I decided to do was promise myself that every time I thought about that project, I also had to say a five-second prayer where I simply said, “Hey higher power, I’m struggling with this thing right now. Please walk with me as I struggle with it.” It wasn’t one of those Staples “Easy” buttons where the issue disappeared immediately, but I found that by pairing those two things up, I felt better. I felt grounded. A little calmer. A little more clear-headed. Basically, it gave me a slightly better perspective. And by doing it over and over again, it kept me in that place, rather than letting my brain run wild.

—2. GIVE A GOOD TIP

This isn’t necessarily specific to sobriety. I highly recommend some kind of daily service over the holidays (even when service benefits others quite a bit, I find that it actually probably benefits me more than anybody else). And I’m using service broadly, so I am not just saying chair a meeting or take a greeter commitment at the alcathon. I have really been enjoying tipping people who don’t usually get tips—cashiers at Walgreens, the drive-through people at McDonald’s, etc. I have been especially thankful for the people who don’t usually get tips and still have busted their asses through a pandemic making minimum wage or close to it… I can’t even describe you the looks on their faces when I get an $12 Burger King order and tell the lady to keep $8. Put it this way: They’re very grateful.

—3. WRITE DOWN YOUR SPECIFIC GOALS, AND SHARE THEM WITH SOMEONE

Don’t just tell yourself you want to pray and meditate more during the holidays. Write it down and tell a sober friend to hold you accountable every day. So if you want to meditate 10 minutes every day, actually write it down on a piece of paper—don’t ask me why it’s slightly different if you write it down; it just is—and then ask a trusted sober buddy to hold your feet to the fire. Promise a text exchange every morning whether you did it or not.

—4. SCHEDULE A SOBER HALFTIME

If you’re going to Uncle Jim Bob’s house on Christmas and you know he’s going to try to again convince you that the Earth is flat and so is the moon… book yourself a sober halftime show. By that, I mean if you know you’re going to Uncle Jim Bob’s house from 4 pm to 6 pm for dinner, schedule a trusted sober friend to call you at 5 pm. Kindly excuse yourself from the flat moon presentation and step outside for a five-minute spiritual boost.

—5. KEEP AN EYE ON YOUR SOBER SAVINGS ACCOUNT

One of my biggest mistakes I continue to make is over-investment. I want to be a good friend and sibling and neighbor, but there’s a point where I am pouring too much time, thought and energy into something or someone. In the case of Uncle Jim Bob, I routinely think it is my duty to try to set the record straight and correct whatever silly stuff he’s spewing.

But here’s the truth: I am actually rarely asked for my opinion (seriously, the next 10 times you say something that includes your opinion, count the number of times where you had actually been asked for your opinion. In my experience, that number is always about 10 percent, perhaps lower. It’s quite surprising how often I feel the need to give you my thoughts despite not being asked for them). And in the rare case where I am asked for my opinion, I find that it rarely changes anything. If somebody tells you a restaurant sucks and asks for your opinion, and you love it, do you really think arguing that out is going to convince that person the restaurant is good and they won’t get food poisoning again? Prolly not.

Back to my original point about the sober savings account: Every time I get invested in somebody else’s business, it drains my account a little bit. The holidays present perfect opportunities to go bankrupt because you’re often catching up with people and they’re telling you all the ups and downs of their lives. Most of the time, we end up zeroing in on the downs, and I find myself getting sucked into trying to fix stuff I can’t fix or shouldn’t even be trying to fix. Yes, someone needs to shovel out Uncle Jim Bob’s outhouse and perhaps replace it. But does it really have to be me?

—6. BE A COIN-CARRYING MEMBER OF RECOVERY

This is my favorite one. If you’re sober today, congratulations—why not celebrate as the year winds down? That’s why I carry my most recent anniversary coin in my pocket. They’re just big enough that every time I reach into my pocket, my hand hits it and I am reminded of the single biggest thing I am grateful for… my sobriety. And the holidays can be stressful, so why not make your most recent anniversary coin a sober person’s version of a stress ball? I don’t care if you have 24 hours or 24 months or 24 years, you worked your ass off to get that chip. So when Uncle Jim Bob starts talking about how the government is hiding how ocean waves ACTUALLY work, you can slip your hand into your pocket, give that sober chip a squeeze and feel some gratitude before your mind is blown about what the Illuminati has been hiding about tidal forces.

ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

Alcoholics seem to burn their bridges in front of them.

(Credit: AA Grapevine, October of 2006, from Don S. of Burlington, CT)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. Most of what I do on this newsletter is free, but I do have quite a few paid subscribers. So starting in December, I will put things behind the wall as heartfelt thank you to those subscribers. This month, I have been working on a mini comedy special about my favorite sober jokes and why I think they’re funny. If you want to hear or read that one and you aren’t a paid subscriber, you can either sign up now or when I release it.

One of the most beautiful—ALLEGEDLY—things about recovery is that being sober helps you stay present. To not live in shame from the things we’ve done in the past. And to not live in the wreckage of your future.

Except… sometimes the present sucks. I had a week-long stretch earlier this month where I felt like crap. Nothing significant had happened. I just felt irritable, restless and discontent.

I did all the things we’re supposed to do: Slow down, pray, meditate, make calls, get to meetings, blah blah blah. It didn’t help right away. And that’s what a good addict like me wants—pain should go away immediately, and pleasure should stay here forever.

But I did all of those things, and then I kept doing them, over and over again. I’ve had this happen before, where you just have to grind away at the rut you’re in.

Then I had a funny little aha moment on an airplane. I was traveling for business, and as I drove to the airport, I couldn’t believe how foggy it was. It was one of those grey December days where you put on your big winter coat and go outside and it’s raining but somehow 61 degrees right before Christmas. That made for some very thick fog as I slowly drove to the airport.

I got on the plane and sat down and looked out the window—I could barely see the wings, that’s how foggy it was. As we started to pull out from the gate, the pilot got on and said all the normal stuff about how long we’ll be in the air, the height we’ll be traveling (by the way, does anybody care about the height? Unless you’re alerting me that we’re flying 20 feet above the ground so watch out for treehouses and swing sets, just get the plane in the air, bro).

Then he mentioned the fog and he said he was going to take the plane straight up above the fog and cloud cover. And wow, he did. When the plane took off, I thought maybe he said screw it, let’s go to the moon. We zipped really high, really fast, and I think within a minute we were up above the cloud cover.

And… it was quite nice up there. Sunny. No fog. I stared out the window for a minute and had a mini epiphany about my own life. Here we were, still in the central Connecticut area we had just been in, only 10,000 feet above now, with a wider view of the present. And when you look down on things from that vantage point, it looks pretty sunny.

You can probably see where this is headed. I spent a few moments smiling and thinking about how stuck in the fog of everyday life I had been, and how at 10,000 feet, things were pretty damn good.

I’m healthy. My wife is healthy. My kids are healthy. My cats are healthy… pretty chunky, but healthy. I paid every single bill of mine this month, and I had enough left over to buy holiday gifts for my family.

I can keep going but you get the point: The truth of my life isn’t the fog, it’s the 10,000 foot view. And the 10,000 foot view is pretty damn great… although, even from up there, I can see the barrel asses on my cats!

ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

My neighbor knows I've had problems with alcohol in the past. Recently, I met her in the hall as I was leaving and I told her I was going to an AA meeting.

"What?!?!" she asked. "I thought you quit drinking!"

(Credit: AA Grapevine, August 2006, Joe H from Sterling, Colorado)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m not putting anything behind the paywall for a little while longer, so if you choose the free option, you’ll receive everything without paying. If you’d like to contribute anyway, many thanks.

I got into a pretty interesting conversation a few months ago with someone who had the opinion that gambling on sports has become way too easy, and that that will inevitably increase gambling addiction.

I didn’t chime in with any thoughts, because I don’t really have an overall opinion on addictive things other than this: I can’t do them. I try to subscribe to the 10th tradition of the 12-step programs, which says that the programs have no opinion on outside issues, hence the program name never ought to be drawn into public controversy.

But this guy couldn’t believe I didn’t want gambling or alcohol or marijuana banned. I just shrugged my shoulders and said my only opinion on it is that I can’t really do any significant mind-altering substance or activity that could conceivably turn into an addiction.

“But you know first-hand how destructive this stuff can be!” he said.

I told him yeah, I know… but I don’t want to be in the game of figuring out what I can’t handle, and then advocating against it so that other people—people who might be able to handle it—can’t do it. He was still shaking his head, and I was still shrugging my shoulders.

But that’s the way I feel, and I’m so glad that tradition exists. I’ve read some of the history of recovery programs, and there have been some tricky situations where groups did take public stances on things and it didn’t work out so well. I’m trying to imagine how problematic it would be if 12-step groups were paying for ads to outlaw alcohol, or to vote for a certain politician, or for public funding of this cause or that cause. I think it would not be good!

I like that that also keeps our message and goals very pure and simple: If you think you have an alcohol or drug problem, let’s try to not drink and do drugs! That’s it! I love that we generally stick to that because recovery is pretty damn hard without anything else clouding the picture.

And besides, I’ve been to enough business meetings where 10 alcoholics end up bickering over whether to buy a new fan for the room that I know for a fact that I don’t want to be taking group conscience on who should be president or whether the U.S. should go to war or not.

I love that we can just keep our focus on staying sober, keeping meetings available for the newcomer in need of help… and yeah, maybe a new fan once in a while!

ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

A drunk was lying in bed, still groggy after an operation.

His doctor came in, looking glum: "I can't be sure what's wrong with you. I think it's the drinking."

"OK," the patient said. "I'm sure by tomorrow you'll sober up."

(Credit: AA Grapevine)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m not putting anything behind the paywall for a little while longer, so if you choose the free option, you’ll receive everything without paying. If you’d like to contribute anyway, many thanks.

The other day, my daughter and wife were sorting laundry and they both started goofing on me for how dirty my socks were.

“Your socks are always so gross!” my 7-year-old said, holding up a pair of socks that were, indeed, extremely gross. There was a glob of Play Doh on one, a piece of Scotch tape on another, and lots of cat hair stuck to both.

Then they held up a few more pairs of my socks, and my God, they were all gross. Ketchup, dirt, cat litter, mystery stains, mystery smells… It looked like some kind of science fair experiment to see how many disgusting items you could walk through.

You’re probably wondering, What does this have to do with sobriety?

Well, I’ll tell you. The socks are a metaphor for how I cruise around the world. Even with 10-plus years of sobriety, I still plop myself down in the middle of stuff, get a little messy, then attempt to quickly scrub off the bad stuff. The truth is, even when I step directly in Play Doh, clean it off and keep moving… the Play Doh leaves a residue. It takes a lot of work to get rid of a bad stain, no matter how much you try to wash it off.

The way this plays out in my life lately has been that I will knowingly enter into arguments where I was not asked for my opinion but I offer it instead. It doesn’t matter if it is a random person talking about a sports team, my wife talking about something she wants to do, or one of my kids making a joke… I will dive right in and start firing hot takes in your direction.

I’m pretty good at arguing, too, so I often will rough you up and get the outcome I wanted. Except, is that true? How often do you beat somebody down to get what you want and that works out over a long period of time?

In my life, I’ve seen it have a pretty negative impact on the way people view you and treat you down the line. What good is badgering a loved one into something if they can’t stand you for it over the next five years?

And then there are just the pointless squabbles I will get into, like arguing with my 7-year-old. The other day, I said, “Hey, looks like it might snow tomorrow!”

And she said, “No, it’s not going to snow.”

And I said, “Uh, yes, there’s a 70 percent chance of snow.”

And she said, “Nope, not gonna snow.”

And I said, “Yes, it might snow.”

It went on like this for a few more minutes before I realized I was trying to argue something that is inarguable. What was I hoping to accomplish other than my pride’s need to be right?

Let me bring it back to my dirty socks. The thing I still convince myself of is that being a founding member of the Alcoholic/Addict Debating Society of America is pretty harmless—no big deal, I tell myself.

But the reality is that it gets me almost nothing, and it leaves a stain on my spirituality. I have this delusion that I can weave in and out of tension and just leave it behind me. But it doesn’t work that way. It leaves a big ole’ gross stain on me, just like stepping in wet cat hair leaves on my socks.

The truth is, I need the same strategy with my spiritual sobriety as I do with my socks—I need to watch what I am stepping in, try to walk around it when possible, and give it a deep scrub as soon as possible right afterward.

ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

How do you set up a drunk in a nice, small business? Set him up in a nice, big business, and then wait.

(Credit: AA Grapevine, July 2006, by Bobbi S. of Bellefonte, Pa.)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m not putting anything behind the paywall for a little while longer, so if you choose the free option, you’ll receive everything without paying. If you’d like to contribute anyway, many thanks.

I love the TV show Succession. If you haven’t seen it, you’ve probably at least heard about it, about how the show is essentially all terrible people doing terrible things and you just can’t stop watching it. It’s very dark and very funny, sometimes at the same time.

Sunday is the season finale of Season 3 of what is supposedly going to be a five-season show. So we have a long way to go, but I think by the time the series wraps up, it will be my No. 1 show that I’ve ever seen, passing The Wire, The Sopranos, Mare of Easttown and some of my other all-time favorites.

I spent some time wondering why I feel that strongly about the show, and it’s a bunch of very obvious answers.

I think the writing is great. I think the characters are great. As I said, it can make you laugh or cry, sometimes in the same scene. I also think it’s an incredible window into how the super-rich exist in a fantasy world many miles above the rest of us schlubs. There’s some addiction stuff within the show that certainly grabs my attention, too.

But during one recent episode, another thing hit me. One of the characters is offered $2 billion to cash out and just leave the toxic company that his toxic family runs. He could just walk away with enough money to buy a small country, start a foundation, do whatever he wanted. He’d be free, at last.

And yet… he didn’t take the offer. He couldn’t. He was addicted to the chaos and the toxic ness. As relieving as it might have been to unplug from that disastrous situation, he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it. Walking away had uncertainty, and fear, and insecurity, and an ego hit, all wrapped up together.

That’s how all of the characters in the show are. They want to take over the company and have wealth and prestige and all the trappings of being the boss, but they don’t actually want to be the boss. They love the idea of having power at any cost, consequences be damned.

I get that. During the last two years or so of my addiction, I was terrified of what would happen to me if I didn’t get help.

But I apparently was slightly more terrified of what would happen if I actually got the help. The devil I knew involved lying, stealing, overdosing and breaking peoples’ hearts—including my own!—every day… and yet I knew that chaos, and was uncomfortably comfortable within it. I didn’t know what to do about the fact that I was taking 40 painkillers most days and then drinking six beers with two Ambien at night… but holy s**t, what would I do if I didn’t do that? It was the great unknown. So I kept going for a longggggg time.

Fast forward to getting sober, and I still have situations that are bad… but again, they’re uncomfortably comfortable. So I don’t change.

I think about my old house where our water heater produced enough hot water to run one full bath, so I’d get in the bath knowing once the water got cold, there was no way to warm it up. I’d take a long bath and then sit in room temperature water, shivering before I finally got up the courage to just take the 10 second hit of grabbing a towel in the cold air. I have so many other lukewarm baths over the years that are unpleasant but at least I am familiar with the unpleasantness.

I think that can apply to relationships with people, jobs, living conditions and a big one for me: other addictive tendencies. When I went to rehab, I was chewing two cans of Skoal every day and I kept the nicotine habit going. I told myself that I was trying to push through opiate and alcohol addiction, so taking away nicotine might have been too much for an addict to handle.

That’s a fair conversation to have, I think, but I only had that conversation with myself. And six months into sobriety, my life had turned around and I had a plan for living where I could survive without all the painkillers and booze… and guess who was still chewing Skoal every day? I eventually transitioned to nicotine gum but guess who chewed nicotine gum for three full years because he was scared of what life would be like without any nicotine whatsoever?

To bring it back to Succession… actually, I just love talking about Succession, so I’m not sure there is a great connection between the show and my main point!

Which is this: I need to constantly work with others—that’s key, it can’t just be my sick mind trying to fix my sick mind—to make sure I am not staying in room temperature baths because I am scared of getting out. If the right thing to do is to go through some discomfort to get through some discomfort, I need to do that.

ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

Heard from an old-timer: "I probably only need one meeting a week, but I go every day because I don't know which one it's going to be."(Credit: AA Grapevine, Sept 2006, Annie R. from Ashland, Pa.)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m not putting anything behind the paywall for a little while longer, so if you choose the free option, you’ll receive everything without paying. If you’d like to contribute anyway, many thanks.

I was in an airport the other day, and there’s no better gauge of my spiritual gas tank than the process of flying. I find airplanes and airports to be the Noah’s Ark of a******s—you see at least two of every kind of a*****e.

I’ll include myself as a very specific kind of a*****e, at least recently: I’ve been the “short fuse guy.” The person whose skin is very thin and ego is quite large.

So I am in the airport waiting for my plane to start boarding, and a guy sat down close to me. There were plenty of seats available and yet he sat next to me with only one empty seat between us. You can see how this is headed—I’m already policing where this dude decides to sit and whether it is an appropriate distance according to my personal seating policy guide… which no one has access to except for me!

Then he made a phone call and I hear his voice for the first time. Too nasally and whiny by my standards.

Something was haywire with the call, because the guy just kept saying, “Can you hear my voice? Can you hear my voice? Can you hear my voice?”

He must have said it 10 times in a row, just the same thing, “Can you hear my voice?”

By the end, I wanted to scream, “For the love of God and every High Power in the world, yes, we can f*****g hear your voice. Over and over again. The whole airport can!”

I realized I was hitting an intersection where I could either be a jerk, or not be a jerk. So I moved to a different seat, even though I was muttering the whole time that I had been in my seat first… he should have moved!

That was one example out of many that showed my truth recently, which is that I’ve had a short fuse. I’ve done a bunch of work to get to understand why, and I can’t find an answer to that question. I just am in one of those moods.

I do, however, know a solution. One is to remove myself from situations where the rest of the world will have the joy of experiencing my short fuse. If I have a short fuse, there’s no reason to stand beside flammable objects.

I also did a few short-term retreats from things. I had a project I was working on that went a little sideways, and it was gnawing at me. Rather than jump in there and micromanage and try to right the ship, I just completely distracted myself for a day or two watching TV and other stuff, then I came back to it.

I’ll underline that part of “then I came back to it”… That’s a big key for me—I don’t really want to run away from things and leave them unfinished. That doesn’t work. But I do think unplugging, then plugging back in, is a good sober strategy.

Another thing I try to do: I like calling three sober friends who have a good sense of humor. I say the sense of humor part of it because when I’m thin-skinned like I have been recently, I don’t really want somebody to bust my chops and give me homework. I want to try to laugh about it and move through the mood. That’s just me, right now. I’ve definitely had moments where I’m also in need of a mean basketball or football coach to tell me to set the f— up and stop being a baby.

I seem to have pulled out of the mini tailspin, though, so hopefully I won’t need Bobby Knight to ream me out!

Let me leave you with this final message of peace and serenity… (cue the nasally voice) CAN YOU HEAR MY VOICE?!?!

ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

An older gentleman was discussing his longevity. "I have never allowed alcohol to pass my lips," he declared, "never smoked or chewed tobacco, never went to a nightclub, dance, or movie. I don't watch TV or listen to the radio, I don't drink coffee or tea, and tomorrow I'm going to celebrate my 90th birthday."

"Celebrate? How?" somebody asked him.

(Credit: AA Grapevine, Sept 2006, from Eric. E. of Scottsville, Michigan)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m not putting anything behind the paywall for a little while longer, so if you choose the free option, you’ll receive everything without paying. If you’d like to contribute anyway, many thanks.

I do this newsletter because I really like doing it, and it actually does help my sobriety to devote as much time as possible to thinking about recovery topics. And in this newsletter, I mostly talk about myself, but if I do mention other people, I often switch some details and combine characteristics into one person for the story. I did that here.

When I first got sober, I fell in love with 12-step programs right away because my life improved so much, so quickly. It was like magic. So I was head over heels.

That’s not how everybody feels, though, and I respect that. I’m not somebody who shoves my brand of sobriety down your throat. I’ve seen too many people clean up their lives using 100 different strategies. I actually spent some time thinking about that number, and I mean it—I think I’ve met people who took 100 different paths toward a solution to addiction.

Anyway, the main thing I was thinking about was an old friend from my early days of sobriety who used to come to meetings and just s**t all over the meetings. She didn’t like the religious aspect, hated the prayers, wasn’t a big hand-holder or hugger, didn’t like when people shared the same thing at every meeting, rolled her eyes at the slogans, thought business meetings were lame, didn’t have or want a sponsor, didn’t want to work the steps, and on and on.

Every time she shared, she’d dump on the program, and I would get irritated because I obviously felt like it had saved my life.

I’d always say to myself, “Why are you even here? Leave if this sucks so bad!”

And then one day she got a little emotional and she said, “You all know me. I hate everything about 12-step programs… except that when I come to meetings, I don’t drink.” Then she announced that she had one year sober, and I found myself clapping as hard as I’ve ever clapped before. I was so happy for her, and it reiterated a few very important things:

—1. I got sober the way I got sober. Maybe other people can get sober with one meeting per week, or one meeting per month. Or maybe they’ll get sober with three meetings and a day and no step work. I don’t need to form an advisory panel for anybody else’s sobriety because the truth is, I don’t actually know the answer. If I am asked for suggestions, I will provide them, with no strings attached to whether you do them or not.

—2. I used to scoff a little bit when somebody would say to me “Don’t drink, go to meetings” because I thought that was too low a standard for me. And it is—for me. But it’s also terrific guidance for me during rough patches, when I am doing a lot and not seeing big returns. I always need to just not drink and go to meetings, at the very least, and that’s been enough.

—3. I’m okay being me. I was haunted at first by the idea that “The only thing you need to change is everything.” I mostly agree with the idea that recovery requires a total overhaul of thoughts, actions, patterns of behaviors, the way I talk to people and process what they say back, etc. But I also spent some time in a rut because every single little thing that happened, I would find myself asking, “What character defect is firing up for me? Do I need to do a Fourth Step? Do I owe an amends?” It was grueling because I found that there is such a thing for me as over-analysis, where I am dwelling on imperfection so much that it guarantees more imperfection.

So now I try to remember the old phrase “Beat yourself up with a feather, not a baseball bat” and move on. That anecdote about the person who hated everything about meetings except the staying sober part… she liked who she was without the alcohol and with no extra work. I want to do the extra work on myself, but I also experienced a mini breakthrough when I accepted some things about myself that might not be spiritually fit but are a part of me.

Comedy is the best example of that. I enjoy listening to and doing R-rated stuff when I am performing, and I felt a little guilty about that for awhile. But you know what? I live a spiritually fit life most of the time and deep down, I am an R-rated person. So I eventually got to a point where I was comfortable swearing and telling inappropriate jokes that I wouldn’t say at a 12-step meeting.

I guess I will leave you with some very basic words to live by… Don’t drink and go to meetings!!!

ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke: 

One night at a bar, two drunks were discussing the perils of drink: hangovers, blackouts, and so forth.

"At least," one drunk said to the other, "I've never had alcoholic hallucinations."

"No, thank heavens, I haven't either," replied the other drunk.

"But I did have the darnedest dream last night," the first drunk said. "I dreamed that hundreds of funny little men were dancing all over me. They had pink caps and green suits and furry little boots that curled up in front."

"Yeah," said the second drunk. "And there was a tinkly bell at the toe of each boot."

"That's right," said the first drunk, "but how did you know?"

"There are a couple of them still sitting on your shoulder."

(Credit: AA Grapevine, October 1996)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe