The Backstreet Boys in Las Vegas showed me what is worth recovering.
Las Vegas, Nevada
“I don't care who you are. Where you're from. What you did. As long as you love me.”
-Backstreet Boys, As Long As You Love Me
There was a time before life got complicated that having fun was easy. Long before alcohol was present in my life, as a kid, finding joy wasn’t hard.
From playing capture the flag after dark with a group of friends, climbing mud mountains in the newly constructed neighborhoods, to recreating our favorite Destiny’s Child music videos in our friend’s basement, and riding bikes to the gas station to buy candy cigarettes. Being a kid was fun. Everything could be an adventure when we were young.
My sister is two years older than me and is my best friend. Even when we weren’t “friends” in high school, she was always the person I could go to for anything. As we’ve gotten older, we’ve grown closer. She knows everything about me and there’s no one in this world that I’ve laughed more with. Even when we bicker, nothing will get in the way if one of us calls and needs the other.
Our husbands are luckily close friends (or at least necessary allies) so we’re together a lot and I wouldn’t change it for anything. I cherish the memories we’ve made together. It’s the kind of relationship movies are made about. We’re loud, we argue, we laugh at funerals (sorry Mommy June—we love you), we have strong opinions, and we’re not always easy. But we’re entertaining!
Before we both turned 30, we decided on five things we were going to do together. The biggest two were going on a road-trip—we road-tripped to Chicago, and to get matching tattoos—we permanently branded ourselves in Morse code. So when it came to celebrate her big 40th birthday, I knew it had to be special.
In addition to the surprise party I threw her (which she knew about), we decided to fly to Las Vegas for 72 hours to see the Backstreet Boys live at the Sphere. We coordinated our attire, wearing all white. We ate dinner at the delicious Lago in the Bellagio where we got an incredible view of the dancing fountains. We ditched our husbands and grabbed an Uber.
The big “surprise” moment.
I threw a surprise birthday party for my sister’s 40th birthday… she knew about it.
Driving up to the Sphere was surreal. I had only seen photos of the magnificent venue, but they pale in comparison to seeing it in person—especially with the sea of fans in their 30s/40s, also dressed in white, swarming the area, all there for the same reason.
We bought the signature cocktails (a mocktail in my case) in the souvenir cup and found our seat. While we waited for the world-famous boy band to take the stage, we reminisced about slow-dancing to “As Long As You Love Me” at our school dances, and the number of times we listened to each album on repeat.
When the lights dimmed and the first graphics started to appear, the place vibrated with energy and erupted with cheers. We were among 20,000 fans excitedly waiting to experience this once-in-a-lifetime show. It did not disappoint. The Backstreet Boys put on an unforgettable show.
As soon as they started singing the first song, I was transported back to eight-year-old me. To the girl who didn’t have anxieties or depression. The girl who made friends easily and lived everyday to the fullest. The eight-year-old who found true joy in roller blading and playing silly pool games. The girl who could smile without faking it and earnestly laugh with ease.
Suddenly, I was crying.
I would like to say it was nostalgia, but I think I was remembering a part of myself I’d forgotten existed.
Suddenly, I was crying. Singing along to the songs I’d known for decades, I would like to say it was because of the nostalgia, but I really think I was remembering a part of myself I’d forgotten existed.
I’ve recently noticed how much of my life prior to getting sober I tried to forget. I drank for 20 years so there are things I don’t want to remember, and much I want to leave in the past. I had a lot of fun drinking, but there are also plenty of things I did that I’m ashamed of. Of course, it’s all part of my story and part of why I’m here, but some memories are hard to visit.
In recovery, I’ve looked back at those parts of my life—trying to understand them, make peace with them and, in some cases, leave them behind. But inside the Sphere, under the screen-melting illusions, I realized not everything needs to be forgotten.
Before life got complicated, having fun didn’t require an aid. Long before alcohol was present in my life, finding joy was as simple as catching lightning bugs. But somewhere along the way, alcohol became intertwined with fun, celebrating, vacations, and letting loose. That night, I got to be a kid again.
It didn’t matter that we were dancing like fools and I cried in public. I didn’t care. I was with my sister, my best friend, celebrating her 40th birthday, singing every word to one of the first bands we ever loved.
I remembered what it felt like to be young.
Recovery has taught me to look honestly at my past and let go of things I can’t, and shouldn’t, carry with me. But getting sober doesn’t mean I have to become a new person entirely and erase everything I ever experienced. By focusing on what I needed to leave behind, I simply forgot about the pieces of myself worth going back for.
Like the eight-year-old version of me who didn’t need an escape. Who didn’t need to manufacture a feeling or enhance a moment. Who could recognize that a good time was simply a good time. Who had a Backstreet Boys poster on her wall.
I’ve spent the last three years distancing myself from my old life. It’s too easy to get stuck on the bad. But I was reminded that there are things worth recovering. Like playing in the rain. You don’t have to let go of everything to grow. Take time to remember the good and hold them close.
Written by: Parwick
Photo credit: Parwick, 2025
