Writing not smoking

Today I attended my first MA meeting for addict mothers — and it filled my cup.

One concern that surfaced was how I’ll stay clean once my body is no longer a vehicle for a life beyond my own. I can already sense that to stay connected to my higher power, I’ll need to outsmart my addict brain — to keep tricking it into surrender.

Mentally, I’m doing better than ever (all things considered). But insomnia still reigns. I sleep three, maybe four hours a night before waking for good. Yesterday, instead of doom-scrolling at 4 a.m., I used the time to plan my future. Thanks, sobriety.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what restarting my life will look like once the baby’s born.

I don’t even have a bump yet — but as an addict who’s chased dopamine highs and external validation since the dawn of time, I know it’s overdue that I carve steady, sober pathways forward. The most grounded idea I’ve had is to go back to school and retrain.

I want to teach — specifically, to work with neurodivergent children, disabled students, and gifted-but-challenged youth. I want to specialise in early intervention care practice.

It makes sense. Teaching demands stability. It keeps me accountable — I can’t exactly get high and show up for class. In this field, there are routine drug checks. Built-in boundaries. And beyond that, it’s a career that could provide a good salary, a sustainable schedule, and alignment with my child’s school life. I’d have to be in a dark place — for myself and for my child — to throw that away for a quick hit.

In MA (and really, all the Anonymous fellowships), we use tokens that say “Just for today.” It’s about showing up — even if tomorrow you slip, even if tomorrow is uncertain. Today is the only day we can act on.

So yes, maybe I’m thinking far ahead. But that’s part of recovery too — learning to hold hope without getting lost in it.

I’m excited about my future. Less sceptical. Less dopamine-driven.

Today I spent most of my time distracting myself from nausea, breast pain, and exhaustion by moving — working out, dancing, stretching. I imagine tomorrow will be similar. Who knows.

What I do know is this: I’ll be writing, not smoking.