I used to hate ordinary days. Nothing exciting happening. No crisis. No problems. Just the routine of everyday life.
How boring!
Although my memories aren’t nearly as vivid as they once were, I still remember how intolerable boredom felt. Ordinary days seemed endless because there was nothing to distract me from my own anger, restlessness, and frustration. Back then, I lived for the next good time. And if I didn’t have plans, I stayed home. Alone. And I could hardly imagine anything worse than being alone with my own thoughts.
I feared boredom because it always made me drink more. I was already drinking nearly every day, and when I drank alone, I sank into self-pity. I could convince myself I was the victim of everything and everyone. But no one ever shows up for a pity party.
I believe that my loneliness was self-imposed—another consequence of my drinking. Alcohol made me say and do things that hurt people, pushed them away, and damaged relationships. And when people finally reacted, I couldn’t understand why. I felt misunderstood, rejected, and alone, never realizing that I was the common denominator in all my broken relationships.
So if there wasn’t someone around to talk to—or more accurately, someone to complain to—I had to go somewhere. Find something to do. Meet someone new. Create some excitement—or chaos! I simply couldn’t tolerate an ordinary day.
The truth is that if life wasn’t chaotic enough, I manufactured more chaos. Looking back, I can honestly say I was addicted to it. Chaos gave me something to react to. It distracted me from myself and made me feel alive.
I still occasionally have to remind myself that peace isn’t boring.In sobriety, I’ve learned to see ordinary days through entirely different eyes.Today, routines anchor my life. My mornings begin with prayer and meditation. Work has its own rhythms. I spend time with recovery friends, coworkers, family, and neighbors. My weekends are filled with meaningful activities instead of frantic escapes.
What I’ve discovered is that routines aren’t prisons—they’re gifts. I don’t have to do these things. I get to do them. As I’m washing dishes, I’m grateful I’m no longer living the kind of life where paper plates were essential because I couldn’t even manage basic chores. As I’m putting clothes into the washer or dryer, I’m thankful I have those appliances instead of hauling laundry across town. As I clean my apartment, I’m grateful to have a peaceful place to call home.
What a remarkable difference from my drinking days. The squalor is gone. The clutter is gone. Not only from my apartment—but from my life.
There is tremendous comfort in knowing what my day will generally look like. Even the familiar routines are never exactly the same. Every conversation is different. Every sunrise is unique. Every prayer opens up new possibilities. Every Bible story teaches me something new.
Ordinary days are no longer empty spaces to endure. They’re filled with responsibilities, relationships, opportunities, and blessings that make my life genuinely rich. Life’s subtle variations add richness and color to what once seemed ordinary. And those routines have become the solid foundation of my life.
I believe God designed us to flourish in faithful routines rather than constant excitement. Most of life isn’t lived in extraordinary moments. It’s lived in the ordinary ones. And when I slow down enough to notice, those ordinary moments become reminders of God’s faithfulness.
Gratitude has a way of changing everything. The more I thank God for today’s blessings, the more I recognize blessings I would have overlooked before.
And then something beautiful happens. God often turns an ordinary day into an extraordinary one. Sometimes it’s nothing more than a phone call. Sometimes it’s a conversation with the cashier at the grocery store, the attendant at the gas station, or a neighbor sitting on the porch. I ask God to place people in my path, and He faithfully does. Someone who needs a listening ear. Someone who needs encouragement. Someone who simply needs hope. And sometimes I get the privilege of sharing how God has kept me sober one day at a time. Those moments never seem ordinary once they’ve happened.
Perhaps the most extraordinary days are the quiet ones when God teaches me something new. I’ll be reading my Bible when suddenly a verse I’ve read dozens of times comes alive. A detail I’ve overlooked for years suddenly connects with another passage, revealing a fresh glimpse of God’s character, His love, and His grace. Those discoveries never grow old.
Today I still have ordinary days. But I rarely think about drinking anymore. Instead, I look for someone to help. That’s one of the greatest antidotes to self-centeredness—and one of the greatest joys in recovery.
At the end of each day, I thank God for His goodness, lay my head on my pillow, and sleep peacefully. Every night.
I can honestly say I’m never bored anymore.
I haven’t been for many, many years.
