The Imperfect Road to Recovery

Recovery isn’t perfect. Mine sure hasn’t been. I’ve shared a lot of tools, practices, and mindsets that have helped me along the way—but the truth is, I’ve also made mistakes. Healing is not a straight line. It’s messy, humbling, and sometimes heartbreaking. But what defines us isn’t the number of times we fall short. It’s the way we keep showing up, refusing to quit, and learning as we go.

One of the biggest mistakes I made before getting sober was with my kids. As a single mother, I spent years in survival mode. My mind was consumed with its own turmoil, and I convinced myself that as long as I was providing, I was doing enough. They had a roof over their head, nice clothes and shoes, dinner on the table, and every material need taken care of. And when they got older and became more self-sufficient, I thought, “They don’t need me so much anymore.”

What a lie that was.

The truth is, they needed me more than ever. Not just the version of me who paid the bills and filled the fridge—but the mom who was present, engaged, and tuned in to their hearts. My own storm had blinded me to that, and I’ll forever have to live with missing some of those formative years. Sobriety didn’t magically erase that pain. It took time—time to show my kids that I wasn’t just there in a monetary way, but in the ways that mattered most. Consistency became my apology. Presence became my proof. And slowly, they began to trust that I was really here for them.

At the same time, I was also wrestling with another hard truth: not everyone around me could see the transformation I felt inside. Pretty early into my sobriety, I knew my mindset had shifted. I felt strong, proud, and determined. I was doing the work and finally feeling the results. But the people closest to me? They needed more time. They had seen me make promises before. They wanted proof, not just words.

That was super frustrating. I wanted to yell from the rooftop, “Can’t you see how great I’m doing?” I longed for a pat on the back, an “I’m proud of you” moment, or just confirmation that others could see the difference in me. And when that recognition didn’t come right away, I let it discourage me. More than once I thought, “What’s the point if no one even notices?”

What I had to learn—again, the hard way—is that recovery isn’t about outside approval. It’s an inside job. Whether anyone clapped for me or not, I had to be proud of myself. That had to be my driving force. Because if I had waited on everyone else’s validation, I would have quit a hundred times over.

Eventually, the recognition did come. Over time, my kids saw the consistency. My family noticed the follow-through. Friends began to trust that I was showing up for real, not just for a moment. But by then, I understood something far more important: the change had to mean something to me before it could mean anything to anyone else.

That’s the imperfect truth of recovery. It’s not just about staying sober. It’s about facing the wreckage, learning to rebuild, and proving to yourself—day after day—that you’re worth the fight.

So here’s my rally cry to anyone on this path: don’t wait for someone else to see your progress. Don’t measure your worth by how many people notice your efforts. Stand tall, show up for yourself, and keep going—even when it’s hard, even when it’s messy, even when the world doesn’t recognize the work you’re putting in.

RISE. Keep moving. Keep fighting. Be proud of the person you’re becoming. Your story isn’t over, your healing isn’t over, and your victory is waiting for you—one brave, imperfect step at a time.