Sobriety. The word alone carries immense weight—echoing boldly through the halls of recovery. But what does it truly mean? Is it just abstinence, or is there something deeper?
I can only share my experience, strength, and hope in the chance that it resonates with someone else. Sobriety is often described as a gift, and you’ve likely heard the familiar sayings: “Easy does it,” “One day at a time.” You know the standard advice:
- Go to meetings
- Find a sponsor
- Work the steps
These are vital tools, no doubt. But for me, there’s something more profound about the sober journey. It’s an inner connection—a voice of love and affirmation that tells you to embrace yourself fully. Not just the polished parts, but the flaws, the scars, and the messiness that make you you.
I didn’t always believe this. In fact, I scoffed at the idea for years. But as time passed, I started to feel the rhythm of sobriety’s “ebb and flow.” I could sense when I was nearing a relapse, fighting tooth and nail for the kind of day where happiness and freedom replaced addiction. It’s in those moments—when I can meet my own gaze in the mirror without looking away—that I feel the true power of recovery.
The Lingering Question
I’ve known I’m an alcoholic and addict for over 20 years. The question that haunts me is: Why did I relapse after 10 years of sobriety? Why did I relapse again after 7 months?
I wish I could tell you I had the answer. In fact, thinking I had the “secret” to sobriety is what led to my downfall. I thought I’d cracked the code, that I had some kind of cure. That mindset led me straight into a spiral of self-destruction.
This time around, I’ve learned what I didn’t do right:
- I didn’t have a sponsor.
- I didn’t work the steps.
The Wake-Up Call
As I write this, I’m sitting in rehab, reflecting on my choices. I had 230 days sober and threw it all away. Now, I’m approaching recovery differently, letting go of my ego and coming to this process with an open heart.
Last time, I went through the motions. I attended three meetings a day, joined a home group, and wore my sobriety like a badge of honor. I’d show up to meetings, not to share from the heart, but to say something profound—crafting my words for applause rather than authenticity.
But here’s what I missed: listening.
When you listen, the message is there. By focusing on what I wanted to say, I robbed myself of the chance to hear the wisdom of others—and to share my own struggles honestly.
Sobriety isn’t about showing off. It’s about connection. It’s about being vulnerable and helping one another through the hard days. It’s about admitting, “I don’t have all the answers,” and embracing the strength of the collective: “Alone I can’t—together we can.”
-Matthew-
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