I looked forward to milestones. Having survived protracted withdrawal, I kept hoping that at six months my hands would stop shaking, or that my shoulders would stop hurting from walking around as tense as a spring wire. Neither happened at 180 days.
At a year I hope the repetitive thoughts roiling around my brain would stop, that I had an appetite, prayed the depression would lift.
At 21 months, I quit counting days, but once in a while plug my sobriety date into the sober calculator. Today is day 589.
And i still consider myself a newcomer.