I used to joke that I could write a book with all the “I’m never drinking again” promises I’d made. Turns out, I ended up making a scrapbook instead.

It was time for change. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt truly alive. The bottles hidden around my apartment weren’t clever tricks anymore; they were sad little tombstones marking the death of my potential.

So I did the only thing that made sense: I poured it all down the drain. Every last drop. It felt like a breakup, watching years of false comfort swirl away. But breakups make room for new beginnings, right?

For the first few weeks, I felt fidgety, nothing I couldn’t handle, and I knew it would get better. But I needed something to fill the void where the bottle used to be.

That’s when I found the old scrapbook, dusty and forgotten in the back of my closet. A relic from a time before booze became my best friend. I opened it, half-expecting moths to fly out. Instead, I found… me. The real me, buried under years of blackouts and regrets.

So I started cutting, pasting, arranging. At first, it was just to keep my hands busy. But soon, it became a kind of archaeology of the soul. Each ticket stub, each faded photo, was a piece of the puzzle I’d been too drunk to see.

I documented everything. The good (my first month sober chip), the bad (a crumpled eviction notice from my “party all night” phase), and the ugly (a mugshot I’d rather forget). It wasn’t always pretty, but it was honest.

The scrapbook became my new addiction. I’d spend hours hunched over it, fingers sticky with glue, piecing together the story of how I fell apart and how I was putting myself back together. It was therapy, cheaper than a shrink and way more fun than AA.

I reconnected with old friends, not to party, but to reminisce and rebuild. Each coffee date, each sober adventure, earned its place in the book. It wasn’t just a record of my past anymore; it was a blueprint for my future.

Now, instead of drowning those feelings in wine, I grab my scissors and glue. Because I’ve learned that sometimes, the best way to face your demons is to stick them in a book and write a better ending.

So, I kicked booze by becoming a craft nerd. I guess sometimes, salvation comes with a glue stick and a pack of stickers.

Finally liking the person staring back at you in those photos beats anything that ever comes out of a bottle.

I’m playing catch up now; I’ve got some memories to make. And this time, I’ll actually remember them.