Breaking Free
For a long time, I thought recovery was about proving something. About collecting clean time like tokens in a game I kept losing. I went to over 12 inpatient rehabs. I had five and a half solid years of sobriety. And then, after having two beautiful children back to back……everything unraveled.
Relapse is a word we don’t like to say out loud in recovery circles. It can feel like a dirty word, a scarlet letter. But here’s the truth: I relapsed. Not because I didn’t care about my recovery. Not because I didn’t love my children. But because something deeper hadn’t healed yet.
The Weight of the Past
I carried my past like a second skin. Every mistake, every regret, every identity I wore in active addiction was tucked into my story and I clung to it. I thought healing meant rewriting that story to look prettier. I thought staying sober meant constantly making up for lost time.
But the truth is, I never really let go of the past. I just tried to outrun it with “perfect” recovery.
It wasn’t until I sat in the rubble of that relapse, ashamed, broken, and exhausted, that I realized something had to change. Not just my behaviors, not just my routines. I had to get honest about what was really driving me.
Life vs. Recovery
For years, my entire focus was on being “in recovery.” I wore it like a badge. I showed up to meetings, I did the steps, I helped others. But I never really asked myself: What do I want my life to feel like? Not just my recovery but my life.
I had become so hyper-focused on not drinking, not using, not slipping—that I stopped imagining what a full, rich, joyful life could look like. I stopped dreaming.
Recovery is the foundation. But life…real life…is the house you build on top of it.
When I shifted my focus to what kind of mother I wanted to be, what kind of partner, friend, and woman I wanted to become, that’s when things began to click in a whole new way.
Getting Honest
The hardest part? Getting real about my thought patterns. I had to admit that I was still running loops of fear, control, and self-judgment. I had to stop hiding behind the script of recovery and actually look at the beliefs driving my choices.
Was I still trying to prove something?
Still afraid of not being enough?
Still seeking validation through perfection?
The answer was yes. And that honesty was my turning point.
When I dropped the mask, when I let go of how I should feel, how my journey should look, how fast I should be healing I found something better than recovery. I found freedom.
Unscripted, Finally
Today, I live unscripted. My life isn’t perfect. But it’s mine. I still do the work. I still lean on my community. I still stay honest with myself and others. But I don’t chase some fantasy of who I think I’m supposed to be in recovery anymore.
Instead, I ask: What kind of life feels meaningful today?
If you’re stuck, if you’ve relapsed, if you’re drowning in shame or expectations—know this: You are not broken. You are not your past. And you don’t have to carry the weight of who you used to be.
You can break free. You can rebuild. And you can start again, this time, from a place of truth.
