Today marks 33 days of sobriety, and let me tell you, it feels like I’ve found the secret level in a video game where everything is just… better. I’m smiling so much that I’m starting to worry my face might get stuck this way. But hey, if it does, at least I’ll be a happy statue.
My self-care game is so strong lately, I could probably start a YouTube channel just on cutting my nails and moisturizing. Seriously, when did clipping nails become a moment of zen? And don’t get me started on how proud I am of my skin—it’s like I’ve been auditioning for a skincare commercial.
Now, let’s address the small hiccup in my journey—like, really small, microscopic even. I had a little encounter with syphilis. You know, just to keep life interesting. I mean, who needs drama when you’ve got a surprise rash that turns your hands into a connect-the-dots puzzle? But no worries, one jab of B Penicillin and I’m back on track. It was like the universe’s way of saying, “Hey, here’s a curveball! Now, how do you feel about needles?”
The best part? I felt like absolute trash for a few hours after the jab, but then I took a nap and woke up like, “Syphilis who?” So here I am, smiling, laughing, and loving life—even when it throws a little syphilitic curveball my way. Because if I can handle that, what can’t I handle?
