At 27, I had enough. I knew the curse of the Twenty-Seven Club, those dozens of artists, musicians, and celebrities who died at age 27 due to complications from drug addiction or alcoholism. Unwilling to depart this world at the same age as Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, or Jimi Hendrix, I made the decision to pack all my belongings in suitcases and boxes, take that month’s rent money, and buy a one-way ticket back to my hometown. I walked through the doors of a Twelve-Step Fellowship that same day, and I have been sober ever since.

Life has been a wild ride since August 2, 2012. I’ve had my fair share of bumps in the road. Although I got sober thinking my life would be all sunshine and rainbows from then on, it’s been anything but perfect. I’ve loved and lost, watched people grow in their sobriety, and watched people turn back to booze and end up dead. But through it all, I haven’t thrown away my most prized possession: my sobriety.