Some nights I realize we’re hanging onto this sobriety thing by a string. It’s bound to snap at any second. And wouldn’t that be better than hanging on, watching it fray, wondering when it’s going to fall apart? There’s no way that string can last forever. Why fight the inevitable?

Then some days I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I realize I don’t hate the person I’m looking at that much anymore. I might not hate her much at all. Maybe hanging on is worth it. Not just for my kids, not just for my husband and my family. Maybe it’s worth it for me, too.