Clean But Still A Mess
I used to party like it was my job —
turns out HR had me fired by God.
Now my buzz is coffee and step work chats,
and my sponsor says, “Take it easy, and laugh at your ass.”
My highs were wild, my lows were pathetic,
now my thrills are low key copasetic
I once chased chaos like it was a sport,
now I chase serenity (in yoga shorts).
My drinks are just water — maybe with *fruit*, but not gin,
and my biggest flaw is my arms are flabby not thin!
I meditate, hydrate, take my meds,
and talk to my Higher Power (who rolls His eyes, but smiles and nods His head).
My new addiction? Gratitude lists.
And memes about cats and coffee. Can’t resist.
I still overthink, I still run late,
but at least now I remember the date.
See, recovery’s weird — it’s messy, it’s real,
sometimes I laugh more than I ever could feel.
I traded tweaking for healing instead —
and honestly? I like remembering what I said.
So yeah, I’m clean — but still a mess.
Just a coherent one, doing my best.
And that, my friend, is the greatest high —
living this day without wanting to die.