For a long time, my mornings were something I dreaded. They weren’t a fresh start or a new opportunity—they were a brutal reckoning. The moment I came around after passing out the night before, I was instantly hit by a wave of negative emotions so powerful it felt like being struck with a sledgehammer. Shame, regret, anxiety, and self-loathing would all flood in before I’d even fully opened my eyes. Most mornings, I was still a little drunk from the day before, the remnants of the excessive amounts I’d consumed keeping me in that foggy limbo between intoxication and withdrawal. But it was never enough to dull the deep-rooted fear and guilt, or the overwhelming disappointment in myself for not being able to abstain, yet again.
Many times, I wouldn’t even remember what had happened past my third or fourth drink, and that terrifying black hole of memory loss only added to my despair. The physical side was just as punishing—dry heaving, and sweating, my body revolting against me before I could force another drink down to temporarily quiet the torment. I spent those mornings wanting to disappear, dreading the day ahead because I knew exactly how it would end: with me passing out drunk again, locked in the same vicious cycle, powerless to break free.
But today, my mornings couldn’t be more different. After more than a year of living by the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous, my routine has completely transformed, and it continues to evolve in ways I never imagined possible. I no longer wake up drowning in guilt and fear—I wake up with purpose. I no longer hate mornings; in fact, I cherish them.
Every day, I rise at around 5 a.m., eager to embrace the peaceful stillness of the early hours. The first thing I do, in that hazy moment between sleep and wakefulness, is grab my notebook and write down three things I’m truly grateful for. It’s amazing how this simple practice sets the tone for my entire day, shifting my focus to appreciation rather than regret.
Next, I meditate for thirty minutes. In the beginning, I tried doing this in bed, which, unsurprisingly, ended with me falling back asleep. Now, I sit upright in a chair, allowing myself to be present, to just be. Meditation has become an anchor for me, a way to centre myself before stepping out into the world.
After that, I take a shower and get ready for the day, making myself feel and look presentable—something I once never bothered with as much. Then, before heading off to work (on weekdays), I take a few moments to connect with others, mainly through WhatsApp, reaching out to those in my AA circle, sharing words of encouragement, and receiving the same in return. On weekends, this moment of reflection happens with a quiet cup of coffee, allowing me to ease into the day at my own pace.
The final part of my morning routine is attending the 7 a.m. Sunrise AA Step 11 Zoom meeting. It’s the perfect way to round off my morning, reinforcing my commitment to my recovery and reminding me that I’m not alone in this journey. The fellowship, the wisdom, the shared experiences—they all provide me with the strength and guidance to continue walking this path.
The contrast between my old mornings and my new ones is nothing short of remarkable. The anxiety, the shame, the crushing remorse—they are no longer my constant companions. Instead, I wake up feeling grateful, hopeful, and willing to take on whatever the day brings.
But none of this would have been possible without two crucial things: my deep, unwavering desire to be sober and the support of my new AA family. Without truly wanting my sobriety—without being willing to fight for it every single day—none of these changes would have lasted. It wasn’t easy, and it still isn’t at times, but my desire to live a better life, a sober life, has kept me moving forward.
And then there’s AA—the people who welcomed me, who understood me without judgment, who showed me a way out when I couldn’t see one for myself. They became my lifeline, my support network, my new family. They’ve walked this road before me, and because of their guidance, I now have the strength to keep walking it myself.
I used to wake up wanting to escape my own existence. Now, I wake up ready to live.
Morning’s New Light
The dawn, once dread, a hammer's brutal strike,
A reckoning of ghosts, where shadows creep.
The poisoned dregs, a fog, where memories leak,
And shame, a serpent, coiled in slumber deep.
The body's revolt, a dry and bitter heave,
A thirst for oblivion, the soul to steep.
The endless cycle, bound, a captive's plea,
To vanish from the self, eternally.
But now, a stillness, born of quiet grace,
Where gratitude blooms, in morning's gentle space.
Five hours' rise, before the world's harsh sound,
A notebook's whisper, where true thanks are found.
Three gifts of being, written, clear and bright,
A shift of focus, from the shadowed night.
The seated stillness, breath a measured flow,
Meditation's anchor, where true spirits grow.
No slumber's pull, but presence, firm and deep,
A moment's being, secrets it will keep.
The cleansing water, a renewal's sign,
A visage crafted, where true spirits shine.
The whispered words, on digital's swift wing,
To fellow travellers, comfort they will bring.
A fellowship of souls, a shared, strong chain,
Where burdens lighten, and where hopes remain.
The coffee's solace, in the weekend's ease,
A moment's quiet, carried on the breeze.
The Sunrise meeting, where the wisdom flows,
A Step Eleven's journey, as the spirit knows.
A woven tapestry, of shared, deep pain,
And strength discovered, like a gentle rain.
The path revealed, where once the darkness reigned,
A fellowship of hearts, forever gained.
The old self shattered, like a broken vase,
Replaced by purpose, in this morning space.
Desire, a river, strong and deep and wide,
To break the chains, where broken spirits hide.
The will to wander, on a path untrod,
To find the essence, of my living God.
For in the wanting, strength begins to bloom,
And in the struggle, darkness finds its tomb.
The AA circle, hands that reach and hold,
A refuge found, where stories are unrolled.
They walked this pathway, where the lost ones stray,
And showed the light, to guide a better way.
The self's escape, a long-forgotten dream,
Replaced by living, where true spirits gleam.
The dawn's embrace, a gift, both pure and free,
To rise, to live, to simply, truly be.
