I had to buy Plan B after work today. It wasn’t a cut and dry “condom broke” type situation, more like a “my birth control prescription was delayed, my body only spotted a period two days this month from stress and while I know I’m not already pregnant, not having a period means I am guessing on when to resume the aforementioned delayed birth control and I definitely had unprotected married sex last night”. That kind of situation.

I watched my daughter spin and run around the toy section in the pharmacy as I waited to see if the pharmacist had packs of Plan B behind the counter while I picked up some store-bought serotonin. I had printed out a coupon for Plan B, in what could only be described as me softening the cost of one $50 pill versus maaaaayyybbeee a $3,000 deductible plus 10% of cost after the deductible was met. And diapers. And daycare. Honestly, this is peak addict thinking: defer action, minimize the effects. A plan b on buying Plan B if you will. But the pill was bought and the uterus got got.

Having a plan B was always my MO in addiction. Goals were a moving target, constantly refined to meet the energy I could sum up in that moment, how low my self esteem was, if I was especially shameful, or who was at the party. For a long time, plans B,C, all the way to Z were how I survived. I could never have enough faith that things (including my best intentions) would go according to plan, so I had to be prepped for differing courses of action. I abandoned all goals and challenges at first opportunities of relief, I ghosted friends and relationships when things got too real, too intense, or if they were likely to hold me accountable to my bullshit behavior.

School was one of the last things that I clung to - I refused to Plan B my education. It was my last connection to sane behavior and positive self esteem, but like all addicts, eventually the goalpost of being a good student was moved to a much more reasonable target of attending class twice a month. This last plan B is what led me to getting sober.

I would go to a party fully committed to be a designated driver, but social anxiety kicked in immediately so Plan B came to fix the problem, rationalizing drinks up until I was vomiting beside my car and loading my friends in.

I would give off vibes I was interested in someone, even go all the way to make a date, and then (Plan B!) just bail because the thought of having a real conversation with another human being was unfathomable.

Even in sobriety, there were shortcuts, shutdowns, and reservations. I think the only way I was able to commit to sobriety at 19 was because in the back of my head, I held onto the belief that I could probably drink normally by 21.

Even now, plan B thoughts trickle in. Bail on a board commitment. Ignore that bathroom you’ve been “renovating” for three months. Divorce. Fuck it.

Several good things I’ve earned or received in sobriety have had a lurking plan B thought, because still to this day, I struggle with having faith in myself or God or life to think that I can readily accept something wonderful without needing an escape hatch to soften disappointment.

I learned quickly that getting sober meant sticking to a plan and to stop changing the plan to meet my selfish behaviors. It meant having boundaries with myself, like bumpers on a bowling lane. I could bounce along the sides, but I was committed to a forward course of action.

For dating, that meant writing out boundaries like “no sex for the first three months” or “no texting serious conversations”, things I wrestled with constantly internally. For an eating disorder, that means writing down my food, committing it to a mentor, and sticking to it. It’s wonderfully awful. Under the “Decent Human Being” category, it means sticking by sick (emotionally and physically) friends and family, especially my husband, following up on commitments, and giving two weeks notice at jobs. With a plan, there’s stability. Boundaries lead to clear communication. Certain behaviors are red flags or precursors to a spiral. Avoid them, and you’re good. Engage in them, and you know you need to tag in a friend for help to correct the course.

Fourteen years into sobriety, my mind still wanders, looking for escape hatches, justified alternate courses of actions, the Plan B of any situation. It’s a vestigial organ of survival; my commitments and relationships mirror the healthy boundaries and goals I’ve set for myself. Most of my actions today are benign and are on track. I don’t need to run away, revise, or seek alternate routes when I focus on the big picture goals: Stay sober, stay sane, stay aware.