The Most Magical Place on Earth — Sober
Back to Where the Damage Was Done
I’ve been to Walt Disney World a lot since getting sober. And I’ve loved every trip. But this one? This one meant something different.
Because this time, I wasn’t just going to Disney sober —
I was going with my daughter, Kailyn.
And it was the first time she’s experienced me this way in the parks.
Every other trip we’d taken together, I drank. Every one.
Even the ones where the grandparents were along and I should have just chilled — I always found a way.
And we’ve been honest about it. We’ve talked about how it made her feel.
And I’ve carried that weight for a long time.
So yeah — this wasn’t just a theme park weekend.
It was a second chance.
Walking In With Intention, Not Tension
We went just the three of us — me, Kailyn, and her boyfriend. I won’t lie, part of me worried about being the awkward third wheel. Would I cramp their style or whatever kids call it? Would I start doing that dad thing where I turn every ride queue into a 15-minute monologue about Walt’s vision?
(Okay, I definitely did that. But they tolerated it.)
But something was different. I was different.
I wasn’t buried in my phone.
I wasn’t irritated when a plan changed.
I wasn’t checking out emotionally every 90 minutes to figure out when and where I could grab a drink.
Instead, I was just… there.
With them.
For all of it.
And it felt so good.
Pretzels Taste Better When You’re Present
We didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.
We ate Mickey pretzels. We rode rides — the way every good Disney day eventually ends up.
We were in the parks for 16 hours. We hit 3 parks. We knocked out 20 attractions.
We shared snacks. Laughed until our faces hurt.
Did a whole lot of things we’ve done before.
But this time, it felt different —
because I was different.
Same parks. Same pretzels. Same dad jokes.
But it felt special. Because this was the first time I could see the parks through her eyes without a fog in mine.
She kept saying how much fun she was having. She kept pointing things out — “Remember that time…” and “Oh! That’s where we used to…”
And you know what struck me?
She only shared the good memories out loud.
Not a single “That’s where Dad had another drink.”
Just joy.
I know she still holds some bad ones. And that’s okay.
She’s allowed to.
But maybe — just maybe — she’s starting to let some of them go.
The same way I am.
Who I Used to Be in the Parks
If I hadn’t been sober on this trip?
I’d have been half-present at best.
I’d have been annoyed when we had to pivot plans.
I’d have skipped a ride or two. Spent too much time checking my phone.
Probably snapped at someone. Maybe over something as dumb as a Lightning Lane window.
I’m starting to realize that alcohol didn’t just steal my clarity —
it chipped away at my personality, too.
My patience. My joy.
My ability to just be a dad in the moment without a chemical buffer.
And I know Kailyn felt that version of me for too long.
But not this trip.
The Moment That Got Me
There wasn’t a single big emotional blowout.
It was more like a series of quiet wins.
Watching her laugh on every ride.
Hearing her share old memories like they were treasure.
Seeing her comfortable — not bracing for anything to go sideways.
Getting to know her boyfriend more — who’s become a huge fixture in this family.
Who, luckily, only experienced a short window of “drinking Jeremy.”
She said thank you. More than once.
She told me she was having the best day.
And I could tell she meant it.
That? That was everything.
Tour Guide Dad (aka Me Living My Best Life)
Okay, so yes, I absolutely went full-on Imagineer-mode.
I gave the boyfriend the full breakdown on ride history. Shared Easter eggs. Quizzed them on what used to be in each building before it got rethemed. You know — classic sober dad behavior.
But here’s the thing:
They listened. They smiled. They even asked questions.
And I was proud of that. Because it means I wasn’t just present —
I was someone they wanted to be around.
Write Your Own Song
You can’t rewrite the past.
But you can return to it — and write a new verse.
Maybe that’s a place.
Maybe that’s a person.
Maybe that’s a version of yourself you want someone else to finally see clearly.
Whatever it is, I’ll just say this:
Go back.
Show up.
Be the one who gets remembered for the right reasons this time.
I’ve been to Disney 50 times sober.
But this one?
This was the one that mattered most.