From Doom Scrolling to Dirt Digging: How I Took My Day (and My Life) Back

Waky, Waky, Sober Baby.

I woke up around 7 a.m. to Sunny, my dog, casually repositioning herself between my legs — her absolute favorite place to sleep. Convenient for her, not so much for me.

Does she care about my comfort?

Hell no.

Meanwhile, Moon— my other dog, and a certified mind reader — somehow senses when I so much as crack an eye open. Within seconds, she’s on my face, licking like she’s clocking in for a shift at the Salt Mine.

My husband, being the wise man he is, is trying to ignore his alarm — thankfully, one of those peaceful “Zen Garden” tones. You know the type: soft bamboo sounds, birds tweeting, like you’re waking up at a yoga retreat instead of to chaos.

Way better than the car alarm sound, a.k.a. the kind of noise that makes you want to karate chop the day in half before it even starts.

I finally crawl out of bed feeling like a sloth that’s been personally victimized by gravity.

I even forgot my slippers — so my bare feet hit the freezing wood floors like a personal betrayal. (RIP, toes.)

Coffee?

I think about it…

I pace dramatically…

And then I opt for coconut water instead. I'm also trying to take a step back from my girlfriend ,Caffeine.

Next up: I'm supposed to make my step-daughter a PB&J for her lunch — because I make homemade bread (humble brag). She usually cuts it herself, and let’s just say… she’s “uniquely gifted” at creating slices that are somehow both too thin and too thick...

But today? She beat me to it.

Bless her punctual, responsible, little 15-year-old heart — a teenage version of myself wouldn’t recognize her if we passed on the street.

The husband heads off to school drop-off.

I attempt to feed the dogs — open the fridge: no dog food.

Yup, I’m that bougie dog mom who buys the refrigerated, gourmet stuff because kibble every day feels like a shitty thing to make your best friends eat.

So I MacGyvered a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, cucumber, carrots, apple, and blueberries. The girls think it’s a true treat.

Still half-asleep, I think, “Maybe I’ll just lay on the couch and make a to-do list.”

Cue: doom scrolling for an hour instead, frying my brain into a gooey Instagram omelet.

After a while, that gross, heavy “I just wasted my life staring at strangers dance” feeling settles in.

I toss the phone aside and just sit — under a blanket, two dogs snuggled on top of me.

And somewhere between the weight of them and the quiet, a thought hits me:

Habits make addictions. Addictions come from anything that gives you pleasure — fast and easy.

You gotta ask yourself:

“Is this harmless, or is this about to wreck my life like a rogue shopping cart in a Walmart parking lot?”

One Red Bull on a rough morning? Harmless.

A Red Bull every morning before work?

Not such a healthy habit. Won't end well for your Body long term.

Tiny, dumb decisions pile up, and before you know it you’re not living — you’re coping.

Today, I’m not doing that by obsessively holding my phone in my face while I binge 1000lbs Sisters.

I’m grabbing this bitch by the tits and declaring:

“It’s my day, and I’ll do what I want to.”

⸻

Garden Therapy (a.k.a. Dirt is Cheaper Than a Therapist)

I hop in the truck — windows down, Miley Cyrus’ “Used to be Young” blasting.

Destination: The local garden center.

Today is Gardening Day.

Over the years, I’ve learned the golden rule of gardening:

Don’t plant shit that doesn’t belong.

(Pretty much a metaphor for life.)

I choose native plants for my zone — because fighting nature is exhausting, and I’m busy fighting my own brain already.

• Tall grasses for the back

• Russian sage for the middle

• Creeping phlox for ground cover

• Splashes of goldenrod and daisies for accents

Pro tip: Plant fewer varieties but more of each.

15 random plants will look like chaos.

3 types planted in thick, lush groups? Chef’s kiss.

The Plan.

Preparing for Success…

Prepping a garden bed correctly is the difference between living your best garden life or declaring war on weeds every summer.

Step 1: Remove the crap.

(Toxic grass, old roots, the metaphorical ex-boyfriend clutter.)

Step 2: Lay down boundaries.

(Weed barrier fabric = healthy boundaries = peaceful life.)

Step 3: Plan your future.

(Design your life, your garden, your badass self.)

Step 4: Dig the damn holes.

(Get your hands dirty. Do the real work.)

This garden bed? It’s my clean slate — just like sobriety.

And today, instead of numbing myself with cheap thrills and bad habits, I’m planting roots.

⸻

Final Thought

Today isn’t about perfection.

It’s about choosing better things to be addicted to.

It’s about building a life that feels so good you don’t need to escape it.

Sober me, gardening me, sun-on-my-face me —

we’re just getting started.