Originally published on CNN

There’s no easy time to get sober, but a global pandemic is tougher than most.

Back when I was trying and failing to quit, I’d reach for any excuse to bail on my better self. A bad day. A text from my ex, or no text.

One day, a snowstorm walloped the city, shuttering my office, and I pulled on my rubber boots with a sigh as if to say, “I guess I’m drinking now.”

I didn’t want to be this person, passing out on the futon with the television flickering on her face, waking up to green empties mashed with cigarette butts, but I didn’t know another way.

“Who cares?” I thought, as I trudged to the liquor store on sidewalks shoveled by strangers. “Why bother trying to change?” It felt that day, like many days, that the universe was conspiring to keep me good and drunk. I can’t even imagine what I’d make of a shelter-in-place edict and booze on delivery.