Founder and Contributing Writer – Jason Mayo
It’s New Year’s Day, which means I should be writing about resolutions, but let’s be honest—resolutions disappear faster than a fart in the wind. And I don’t need a fleeting moment of motivation; I need a fart that lingers, one that’s trapped under the covers for good. Okay, maybe that’s a terrible analogy, but you get the point. I’m not talking about resolutions—I’m talking about committing to something that truly matters: taking care of myself.
I need to get better about this. Not because it’s trendy or because every Instagram post this week screams “new year, new me,” but because I’m not getting any younger. I’m at that age where it feels like anything could take me out: rollercoasters, bacon, steep stairs, sand, or even turning around too quickly. Every new year feels like I’m one step closer to my last year. Morbid? Maybe. But it’s also a wake-up call that my body isn’t the unstoppable machine it once pretended to be.
My decline started around my first knee surgery, thirty five years ago. These days, my brain will say, “Hey, put your socks on standing up!” while my body screams back, “Are you out of your fucking mind?” The disconnect between what I want to do and what my body can do has never been clearer.
And there’s a big difference between making myself feel good and actually taking care of myself. Eating a bacon cheeseburger with a runny egg? That’s a “feel good” move. But baked haddock with Brussels sprouts? That’s self-care. Treating myself is fine in moderation, but self-care is about the long game, not instant gratification. One lasts a moment; the other sticks around, like… you guessed it, the fart under the covers.
The Struggle to Slow Down
This past week, I’ve been on vacation, and I’ve learned that vacation isn’t exactly my natural habitat. Sitting still? Not my thing. I love my job, and it’s rare to feel that way about work. Being a recovery coach is fulfilling, but it also can be emotionally taxing. Separation and self-care are essential for me, and I’ve realized how hard I find it to just be. Instead of relaxing, I’ve been wondering around the house feeling like I’ve forgotten something important.
It’s tough to live in the moment. My mind constantly fights with itself: “You’re on vacation; relax!” versus “You should be getting stuff done!” But the truth is, loving my job doesn’t mean I should ignore the necessity of stepping away from it. I can’t pour from an empty cup.
Choosing the Long Game
Take today, for example. Last night, my wife and I stayed up with friends to ring in the new year. By 12:30 a.m., we were done, but my kids were still out. As the dad who doesn’t drink, I’m also the designated chauffeur for late-night pickups. I didn’t get to bed until 3 a.m.
My regular AA meeting is at 10 a.m. It’s a cornerstone of my self-care routine, but when I finally crawled into bed, I told myself, “There’s no way I’m getting up. I’ve been to meetings every day this week. I deserve to sleep in.” No alarm set. I was ready to treat myself to extra sleep.
And then 9:45 a.m. rolled around, and my body woke up on its own. Before my brain could even protest, my feet were moving, dragging me to that meeting. Was I exhausted? Yep. Did I yawn through the whole thing? Absolutely. But you know what? Sitting in that meeting felt great and I’ve never left a meeting feeling worse than when I walked in.
Sleeping in would have made me feel good for a moment, but hitting that meeting? That’s self-care. That’s the fart that lingers.
What Sticks Matters
This year—and for the rest of my sober life—I need to focus on self-care that lasts. Not just the little treats that give me a quick hit of dopamine but the consistent, foundational habits that keep me grounded and healthy. It’s like feeding a dog. Treats are nice, but they don’t replace the actual meal.
I’m worth it. My life is the bed I sleep in, my recovery is the blanket that keeps me warm, and the fart trapped under the covers is my self-care routine. Weird? Sure. But it works for me.
Here’s to more blankets, more farts, and a whole lot more self-care in 2025.
Jason Mayo is the creator and founder of Sober Not Subtle and the author of In Case of Emergency, Break Childhood. He is a certified recovery peer advocate at a Recovery Community and Outreach Center in New York.
Before working in recovery, Jason was owner and executive producer of award winning visual effects and animation companies in NYC.
He currently writes for The Sober Curator, has been a contributing writer for the Forbes Business Council, creator of the popular Dad blog Out-Numbered, and author of the children’s books, “Do Witches Make Fishes?” and “The Boy and the Billy Goat.”
When Jason isn’t working or writing, you can find him watching Netflix with his wife or grabbing coffee with one of his two daughters. You might also catch him in his studio playing Fortnite as a Partnered streamer on Twitch.
The coolest thing that ever happened to him as a Dad Blogger was being named to the “25 Dads Who Rock” list published by Working Mother – keeping company with Barak Obama, Jay-Z, Will Smith, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Matthew McConaughey and Brad Pitt.
Jason is passionate about advocating for people living with substance use disorder and mental health issues. His goal is to use humor, creativity, and lived experience to make a positive impact on the world.
Jason has been sober since March 25th, 2010.
👉 In Case of Emergency, Break Childhood: A Gen Xer’s Survival Guide to Anxiety, Addiction, and Accidental Enlightenment is available now in paperback and ebook.
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