Recovery Comes First

Let’s Talk About Walgreens (Because Apparently We Have To)

Let’s start with Walgreens. That feels fair.

On Tuesday, December 30, 2025, I interviewed with a Walgreens manager. He hired me on the spot. Boom. Adulting. Victory lap. I was told I needed to complete a drug test within 48 hours.

No problem.
On Wednesday, December 31—New Year’s Eve, no less—I marched into Walgreens and deposited my saliva into a cup like a functioning member of society. I passed. Obviously.

Here’s where it got stupid.

There was a tiny issue with my application: I had my city listed as Meriden with a New Britain zip code. A clerical sin, not a felony. The manager told me he couldn’t fix it himself and asked me to log in and correct it.

I logged in.
There was no way to change it.

So I texted him to let him know.

A little later that same day, I logged back in… and discovered I was no longer offered the position. Just—poof. Gone. Like it never happened.

I called the manager and basically said, “Hey… what the fuck?”
He gave me a vague, made-up-sounding excuse and said, “You can always reapply.”

So I did. Immediately.

The next morning, I checked the site.
Application #1: declined.
Application #2: declined.

No explanation. No feedback. Just kicked back out into the void.

So yeah—if you’re wondering why I seem frustrated, start there.

Let’s Talk About Money (Since Everyone Else Is)

Some of you have expressed concern about how much my sober housing actually costs.

I appreciate that—and I’m also a big fan of honesty. AA says I should be.

“There are those, too, who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest.”

Maybe I fall into that category.
Probably.
Who knows.

To clear things up, here’s a rough timeline of my recovery journey. Some dates are approximate because I’m human, tired, and not interested in doing forensic accounting on my own life.

• December 20, 2024 — I land at BDL, stay at a hotel, and take my last drink.

• December 21, 2024 — I check into Manchester Memorial Hospital, where I celebrate both Christmas and New Year’s. Festive.

• January 2025 — Carnes Weeks in Torrington

• February 2025 — Sobering Center in Danbury
  (It was my birthday. They got me a cake. Adorable.)

• March–May 2025 — Dempsey, Waterbury

• June–August 2025 — McCall House, Torrington

• September–November 2025 — Stepping Stones, Meriden
  This was the first place where employment was actually achievable. I got a job as soon as I could—Men’s Wearhouse. Hours were minimal. Also, please recall the November SNAP food stamp fiasco. If you’re wondering where my money went, just remember how much fucking eggs cost.

• December 2025–Now — A Fresh Start Sober House, New Britain

If you’d like to verify the rent at A Fresh Start, their Facebook page is public and easy to find.

The Plot Twist (A Good One)

On Friday, January 9, 2026, I’ll be moving into Russell Sober House in New Britain.
Rent: $200 per week—fully verifiable on their website.

And here’s where things get… humbling.

The stars aligned. God intervened. Humanity showed up.

A kind stranger covered my $200 deposit.
Another kind stranger covered my weekly rent through February 6, 2026.

My birthday is February 7.
If you feel compelled to buy me a present… I think you know how.

That said: I don’t need to keep asking for help.
My immediate needs are met.

If you want to donate to help me start saving, I’ll accept it gratefully—but I’m done begging. Truly.

Where I’m Actually At

I want to work.
I am trying to work.

I’m also managing mental health challenges. I have:

• A primary care physician

• A psychiatric prescriber

• An ABH worker through CT DMHAS

• A sponsor

I’m currently looking for an in-person talk therapist in New Britain.

Yes, I need to start working my steps more seriously. I know. I’ve been putting it off while prioritizing very basic survival needs—like housing and employment. Maslow’s hierarchy is undefeated.

Final Thoughts (Because Apparently Everyone Has Opinions)

I haven’t enjoyed this process.

I don’t like that I’ve had to ask for help.
Part of me feels humiliated.
Another part feels deeply humbled.

To those who have had nothing but negative things to say: I invite you to consider where I’d be if I hadn’t reached out. If I’d stayed silent. If I’d prioritized pride over survival.

Recovery comes first.

Last week, I attended 10 meetings.
I didn’t drink.
I didn’t use.

By my definition, I am succeeding.
Everything else is superficial.

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?”
— Matthew 7:3–5