What Long-Term Recovery Looks Like

I know it might make newcomers a little nervous to hear this, but I’m not the same person I was before recovery — not even close. And honestly? That’s a good thing. Recovery didn't just clean up my habits. It transformed my life, inside and out. For me, this wasn’t a minor renovation — it was a full-on demolition and rebuild. I was so far gone in so many areas of my life that there wasn’t much left to salvage. My marriage had crumbled. My body was giving out — I was 30 pounds underweight, malnourished, and running on fumes. My career was a smoldering wreck. I didn’t hit rock bottom so much as I slammed into it face-first and left a crater.

But even from that ground zero, recovery gave me a way out. Or maybe I should say it gave me a way in — back into myself.

The Early Years: Grief, Growth, and Goodbyes

Once I fully embraced recovery, those first few years were some of the hardest of my life. There was grief — not just over substances, but over people, places, and identities I had to let go of. Almost everything in my life had been touched by addiction. My routines, my relationships, even the cities I lived in were soaked in old patterns and unhealthy attachments.

I had to walk away from all of it.

Leaving the city felt like another loss. I had built my entire identity around being a “city person” — driven, fast-moving, someone who had escaped the slow, rural life I came from. I wore that persona like armor. Coming back to the small towns I once ran from felt like failure. But it turns out, what I really needed was humility.

One of my favorite recovery sayings is: “Humble yourself before God does it for you.” Or, in more relatable terms: Check yourself before you wreck yourself. I didn’t check myself — so the universe stepped in with what felt like a divine atomic elbow from the top rope. Repeatedly.

Letting Go of Who I Thought I Had to Be

Recovery required me to unlearn a lifetime of beliefs about who I was supposed to be. I was programmed to chase status and success — to be a “boss bitch,” to conquer and dominate. But deep down, I wanted a softer life. I wanted to be a mom. I wanted peace, not power.

It took me a long time to accept that choosing rest over hustle wasn’t weakness — it was wisdom. That walking away from what doesn’t fit isn’t giving up — it’s growing up. Sometimes, quitters do win.

What Life Looks Like Now

These days, recovery is no longer about not drinking. It’s about staying connected — to myself, to my higher power, and to the people around me. It’s about living with integrity, even when no one’s watching. It’s about facing life on life’s terms and choosing to stay present instead of checking out.

I make a conscious effort every day to lead with humility. Because of my consistent recovery work, I’ve learned to embrace every part of who I am — even the awkward, redneck, sensitive pieces I used to hide or be ashamed of. Recovery didn’t just give me a new life. It gave me back my life — the one I was always meant to live.

If You're New to Recovery…

If you're early in your journey and wondering if it gets better, the answer is: Yes. But “better” doesn’t always mean “easier.” Sometimes it means deeper. Sometimes it means facing hard truths and making big changes. But every bit of effort you put in now plants a seed for a future you can't yet imagine.

Stick with it. Let yourself be uncomfortable. Let the old version of you fall away. Because what’s waiting on the other side isn’t just sobriety — it’s freedom.