Reasons to Remember

I am not my addiction. I refuse to let it define me. And yet, I will never forget how awful it really was.

I remember the mornings that started with a pit in my stomach, the heaviness that followed me even through simple routines. I remember the nights spent alone in tears, feeling helpless in a misery I didn’t know how to escape. I remember wanting it all to stop—so desperately—but being too afraid of the consequences of trying to quit.

For years, I tried to numb the feelings I didn’t want to face, drowning them in alcohol. I hated who I was becoming, yet I felt powerless to change. I hated the way I treated myself, the shame that lingered, and the constant cycle of hoping for relief that never came.

I was constantly trying to put on masks—smiles, laughter, pretending—that would hide how awful of a person I thought I was. I thought I had successfully concealed the turmoil and war raging inside me. But oh, what a lie that was, a lie only I believed. Others saw the cracks, the pain I tried so hard to hide.

And now? Now I am trusted again. I am seen. I am known—not for my addiction, not for my past mistakes, but for the person I am working to be every day. Rebuilding trust wasn’t easy, but it was worth every tear, every uncomfortable conversation, every difficult step forward.

Recovery isn’t just about being sober—it’s about rebuilding, reconnecting, and reclaiming the parts of life that addiction tried to steal. I’ve rebuilt my relationships with my kids, my family, and myself. I’ve learned to show up, to love, to trust again. I know, deep in my bones, that nothing in the world is worth taking even one step back into that dark place.

I carry the memory of those awful days not as a source of shame, but as a compass. It reminds me that life is too precious to waste, that the joy, love, and connection I feel today are victories I fought hard to earn.

My past addiction will always be part of my story—but it does not define who I am, who I have become, or the life I am building every single day.

I am not my addiction. I am more than the pain, the fear, and the nights of tears. I am love. I am growth. I am proof that life after addiction can be beautiful, intentional, and full of hope. I am trusted again, seen for who I truly am, and living proof that healing and redemption are possible.

Lessons I’ve Learned Along the Way

1. Self-Compassion is Key – I remind myself every day that I’m human. I make mistakes, I overthink, and that’s okay. Healing isn’t about perfection; it’s about persistence.

2. Pausing Before Reacting – I’ve learned to take a breath, step back, and respond thoughtfully rather than reacting impulsively. That pause has saved countless relationships and given me peace.

3. Letting Go of Defensiveness – Slowly, I’ve learned not to feel the need to justify or defend myself constantly. Letting down my guard allows trust and connection to grow naturally.

4. Embracing Peace in My Happiness – I no longer wait for the other shoe to drop. I allow myself to feel joy, to celebrate victories, and to be fully present in my recovery.

5. Trust is Earned and Cherished – Being trusted again feels like the greatest reward. I protect that trust by staying honest, consistent, and fully committed to my growth.

6. Remembering the Pain Keeps Me Grounded – I don’t forget the awful days. They remind me of why I fight so hard for this life. The memories of despair are a compass pointing toward gratitude, resilience, and love.

   
   

Recovery is a journey, and my journey has been anything but linear. It’s full of twists, setbacks, triumphs, and lessons. And that’s what makes it real. I am living proof that you can rebuild, heal, and reclaim your life—even when it feels impossible.