Anyone who has ever quit anything knows all too well that it’s never just about the cessation of the thing. It’s about what drives us to the precipice, and what we discover beyond it.
I was, I thought, cool. Not in the real effortless Paul Newman way we think of cool, obviously, but I believed that if I adorned myself with enough physical trappings of cool, I would absorb it by osmosis. Like the giant bug alien (Edgar) in Men in Black, I was wearing a cool suit. And just like Edgar, I was not pulling it off.
A friend who I’d met in an IRC chatroom for people who wanted to stop drinking asked if making it to 3 years was ‘all rainbows’. As I began typing my response, my eyeballs rolled back in my skull and my fingers flew across the keyboard in a lightning bolt moment of inspiration. Through a …