2000 Days

2,000 Days

Years before I got sober, I wrote a song called Wondering Where This Will End. At the time, I didn’t fully understand why those words came out the way they did.

Now I think I do.

“Tell me now what You want from me.
Tell me now what You want from me.
Take my hand. Do what You want with me.”

Looking back, I realize I wasn’t just writing a song.

I was asking for help.

I didn’t know what the next 2,000 days would hold. I couldn’t have imagined the people I’d meet, the places I’d go, the music I’d write, the woman I’d marry, the quiet life I’d come to love, or the struggles I’d still have to walk through.

I just knew something had to change.

For a long time, I thought getting sober would mean losing something. Losing the edge. Losing the mystery. Losing the part of me that wrote songs, chased nights, told stories, and kept moving.

But sobriety didn’t take my life away.

It gave it back to me.

Not all at once. Not in some dramatic movie-scene way. It happened slowly. Quietly. One ordinary day at a time.

A morning without regret.
A show I could remember.
A conversation I didn’t have to repair later.
A prayer I actually meant.
A song that told the truth without hiding behind anything.

There were days when it felt easy.

There were days when it didn’t.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped counting what I had lost and started noticing what had been returned.

Peace.
Clarity.
Love.
Music.
A sense of home.
A life I didn’t need to escape from.

That song, Wondering Where This Will End, used to feel like a question.

Now it feels more like a marker.

A version of me was standing in the dark, not knowing what was ahead, but somehow reaching for God anyway.

And 2,000 days later, I can say this:

I’m grateful I didn’t get what I thought I wanted.

I’m grateful for the doors that closed.
I’m grateful for the people who stayed.
I’m grateful for the ones who couldn’t.
I’m grateful for the songs that came before I understood them.
I’m grateful for the hand that was reaching for me before I knew how to reach back.

I don’t know exactly where this will end.

But I know where it led me.

Here.

Still sober.
Still writing.
Still learning how to live.
Still grateful.

One ordinary day at a time.

I created this short film to accompany these reflections. Sometimes music and images say what words can't.