Posted on 2026.02.16
A Story of Collapse, Courage, Canoes, and Choosing Yourself
Some victories are loud.
This one was quiet.
But it changed everything.
The First Attempt: 2019
My first real journey into sobriety began quietly, at the very end of 2019.
Not with fireworks.
Not with declarations.
Just a soft internal knowing:
Something has to change.
For a few months, I tried.
And then…
March 13, 2020 arrived.
The Day the World Shut Down
That was the day I had to shut down Cupid’s Escorts because of COVID.
The phones.
The bookings.
The drivers.
The women.
The entire machine.
Paused.
At 11am, I poured myself a maple smoked Manhattan.
Not to celebrate.
Not to relax.
But to survive the moment.
I stood there, closing operations, holding the weight of:
Responsibility.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
Loss.
And I drank.
Pandemic Drinking
And then I drank my way through the pandemic.
Through isolation.
Through uncertainty.
Through stress.
Through loneliness.
Through grief.
Like so many people did.
At the time, it felt like coping.
In hindsight, it was numbing myself through a bad marriage.
Family Day, 2021: The Breaking Point
Family Day.
One of the worst days I’ve ever had at the office.
The kind of day that drains you down to the bone.
The kind that leaves you sitting in your car afterward, staring at nothing, wondering how everything got so heavy.
That night, I got drunk.
And something inside me snapped.
Not dramatically.
Not angrily.
Just… clearly.
I don’t want to live like this anymore.
That was my last drink.
The First Challenges
At first, it wasn’t “forever.”
It was:
One month.
Then three.
Then six.
Then something shifted.
It stopped being a challenge.
And became a choice.
I realized:
I don’t want to drink anymore.
Not I can’t.
Not I shouldn’t.
But I don’t want to.
And that made all the difference.
Two Years In: The Jasper Incident
Two years into sobriety, I was in Jasper, staying at the Fairmont.
I ordered a virgin Caesar.
I specifically said:
“I’m sober. No alcohol.”
They served me one with alcohol.
I took a sip.
And instantly knew.
My stomach dropped.
My chest tightened.
My world tilted.
I vomited in the bathroom and sobbed.
I left the hotel.
Rented a canoe.
And paddled out into the middle of a lake.
And I sobbed.
Not because I drank.
But because I was terrified.
Terrified that this moment meant:
My journey is over.
Now I’ll just go sit at the bar and order another.
I sat in that canoe, surrounded by water and mountains, crying, bargaining, grounding myself.
And then I realized something important:
I didn’t order alcohol.
I didn’t want alcohol.
I wouldn’t have touched it if I’d known.
So my sobriety wasn’t broken.
It was shaken — but not stirred.
And I chose, again, in that canoe:
I will not drink.
And I never have since.
Five Years Later
Today marks five years since my last drink.
Five years of:
Clarity.
Growth.
Healing.
Presence.
Strength.
Five years of choosing myself.
And I can say, honestly:
This is the best decision I’ve ever made.
The Early Days & The Books That Helped
In the early days, I leaned heavily on
Catherine Grey’s The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober. Holly Wittaker’s Quit Like A Woman.
Those books held my hand through the messy, emotional, vulnerable beginning.
It reminded me that sobriety isn’t about deprivation.
It’s about freedom.
What Sobriety Gave Me
Sobriety gave me:
Peace.
Energy.
Confidence.
Emotional stability.
Clear boundaries.
Better leadership.
Deeper presence.
It made me a better woman.
A better business owner.
A better human.
It allowed me to rebuild Cupid’s from a place of clarity instead of chaos.
The Truth
Sobriety isn’t about being perfect.
It’s about choosing yourself when it’s hard.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Five years ago, I put down a glass.
And picked up my life, 1825 days in a row.
And I am endlessly grateful that I did.
If You’re Reading This and Struggling
You’re not broken.
You’re human.
And you deserve peace.
