Recovery52 – Week 49 – Trinkets, Tokens, & Talismans

“Your mind is your invisible talisman. The letters PMA (positive mental attitude) are emblazoned on one side, and NMA (negative mental attitude) on the other. These are powerful forces.”

— W. Clement Stone

I am approaching a full year of complete abstinence from alcohol—nearly twelve months not just of sobriety, but of genuine, intentional recovery. Christmas of 2023 has passed, and I’m proud to say I moved through the holiday season with clear eyes and a steady spirit. No urges, no cravings. Instead, I recognized the people, places, and situations that once would have triggered escape or celebration, and I knew—fully—that I was in control of my thoughts, feelings, and behavior. So yes… yay for me.

This week’s reflection is about a small but meaningful part of my recovery: the growing collection of physical reminders that encourage me forward. Early in the year, during a counseling session, I shared with my therapist an idea sparked by an object I had found in a box from my past—something I had carved as a child with my first pocketknife. That simple piece of wood stirred memories of early creativity, long overshadowed by my years of substance use. With my therapist’s encouragement, I kept it visible on my desk during journaling and mindfulness practice.

Over time, I’ve gathered other objects that spark insight, symbolize lessons, or remind me of the journey I’m on. Here is my small collection—and the meaning each item holds:

·       Wood Carving: A reminder of my early creative spirit—proof that creativity is part of who I’ve always been.

·       A*Hole Gum: Picked up during an earlier recovery attempt as a joke; now a blunt reminder of truths I once avoided.

·       Toy Camera: A symbol of my current creative passion—to see, capture, and share the beauty in the world.

·       Dice: A reminder of life’s randomness. Some events we control, some we don’t—what matters is how we respond.

·       Coin: A symbol of choice. Every action is a decision. Even not choosing is a choice.

·       Chain Link: A broken, rusty link representing the chains of trauma and addiction that once bound me.

·       Rubber Band: A symbol of flexibility—staying open to possibility instead of remaining trapped in rigid thinking.

·       Lens Cleaner: A symbol of clarity—seeing the world, and myself, without the filters of fear or limiting beliefs.

·       Sucker: A reminder that simple pleasures are fine. A piece of candy is okay—but I will never again reach for the poison of alcohol.

In the photo associated with this post, the items are laid out clearly for the viewer. Normally, they sit together in a small container on the edge of my desk. When journaling or reflecting, I sometimes glance at them and feel old memories rising or new ideas forming. These items carry no spiritual or ritual meaning—they are simply objects. But for me, they are powerful reminders of sobriety, growth, and the choices I make daily.

Next week, I’ll move safely through New Year’s and reach the one-year mark of true, continuous recovery. I feel confident. I feel steady. And I look forward to writing that post.

Recovery52 – Week 46 – Seeking Truth

“All too often we’re filled with negative and limiting beliefs. We’re filled with doubt. We’re filled with guilt or with a sense of unworthiness. We have a lot of assumptions about the way the world is that are actually wrong.”

— Jack Canfield

In last week’s post, I committed to staying mindful when negative and limiting beliefs surface—to pause, reflect, identify their source, and question their truth and usefulness. My intention was, and still is, to challenge the beliefs that continue to influence me today.

On Saturday, I went for a walk at a local nature park. The sky was dark with threatening rain, and I hoped to capture a few photographs while also giving attention to my internal landscape. The photography went well. But as I walked, my inner world began to mirror the sky—darkening with memories of events that have shaped my perceptions and behaviors throughout my life.

In a prior post, I described several early childhood traumas that contributed to my fear-based responses—reactions that pushed me toward substance use when pain or confrontation felt overwhelming. Here are a few more formative events that reinforced rigid, black-and-white beliefs:

·       As a young boy experiencing partial blindness and debilitating headaches, I traveled with my mom by bus to the city for a medical procedure. In the restroom at the bus station, a grizzled man approached me from behind, mumbling, and tried to push his hands down the front of my waistband. I froze, pushed him away, and he left when another person entered. I told no one. I felt shame, guilt, and a lingering fear that somehow I was to blame.

·       In my sophomore year of high school, our English class read Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood and watched the film adaptation. Around the same time, we were assigned to write a news-style article, and I chose a local story about two teenage girls who had been murdered and left on a forest road. Immersing myself in those horrific accounts shaped my beliefs about justice and punishment, fueling a desire for swift, harsh consequences for “bad” men.

·       September 11, 2001, was another turning point. The horror of the attacks and the extremism behind them shook me. Until then, I had paid little attention to world events. Suddenly, I wanted revenge. I became hyper-vigilant about news and politics, looking everywhere for confirmation of my outrage. I was swept up in online arguments, consumed by anger, and drinking heavily during that era.

That’s enough examples for now. These experiences shaped my worldview and contributed to my urge to numb, escape, and resist feeling difficult emotions. I can’t change any of them. But I can learn from them and commit to a better way forward.

My beliefs have deep roots. Simply recognizing their origins doesn’t transform them. I need to question whether my automatic responses and underlying assumptions serve me—or distort how I see the world, other people, and myself. To support this work, I’ve begun studying critical thinking. I hope it will help me identify and challenge the cognitive biases that darken my perception and keep old narratives alive.

I’ll close with an audiobook I’m currently listening to, one I expect will be helpful in this effort:

Critical Thinking: What You Should Have Been Taught About Decision-Making, Problem-Solving, Cognitive Biases, Logical Fallacies, and Winning Arguments — Jerrel Forman

Recovery52 – Week 45 – Challenging Limiting Beliefs

“One of the hardest expressions of self-assertiveness is challenging your limiting beliefs.”

— Nathaniel Branden

Last week, I shared several early Adverse Childhood Experiences that shaped my core fears and beliefs. Since then, without adding anything new to the list, I’ve been reflecting on how those early experiences—and others throughout my life—have influenced my growth, my behavior, and my relationships.

Those early maltreatments instilled beliefs that taught me to avoid situations requiring self-protection. I learned to assume I wasn’t strong enough, that others would hurt me, and that freezing or fleeing were the only options when I felt threatened.

My insecurities and anxieties nudged me toward “safe” paths, avoiding opportunities that might expose my vulnerabilities, weaknesses, or fears. I remember being bullied in school and hiding in the library during lunch. My fearful demeanor made me an easy target, reinforcing those beliefs and deepening my shame.

For years, I resisted support from others and turned down opportunities for growth that felt unsafe. My relationships suffered because I withheld honest opinions, downplayed my needs, or avoided difficult conversations—even with people closest to me. If someone seemed angry, I assumed I must be at fault.

Having witnessed spousal and child abuse, I internalized a strong belief that I must never cause pain to a woman or child. This led me at times to lie in the name of protection—“white lies” intended to spare feelings. But lies only delay the truth; they never erase it.

As for substance abuse, the pattern is clearer now. I used alcohol to escape fear, pain, and shame—to numb what felt too heavy to face. Recovery has brought meaningful change: greater self-awareness, healthier habits, and renewed confidence. But the deeper work continues, and it can only happen through continued sobriety.

My intention now is to stay mindful when limiting beliefs arise—to pause, reflect, and identify their source. To question whether those beliefs are true, helpful, or relevant to who I am today. And with care, perhaps I can reshape them without becoming reckless or taking unnecessary risks.

Recovery52 – Week 43 – Pick Up The Shovel

“If one is estranged from oneself, then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others.”

— Anne Morrow Lindbergh

In preparing to write this week’s post—and following last week’s intention to dig deeper into the roots of my substance abuse and long-standing patterns—I reread every post I’ve written so far. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made: the sobriety I’ve held, the growth I’ve earned, and the consistency of this photography project.

But rereading also made something unmistakably clear: I’ve been staying safe.

I’ve written about meaningful topics, but often in ways that circle the edges rather than dive into the center. Each week I’ve hinted that deeper work is needed, but I’ve also kept my distance from the very places that need exploring. I’ve mentioned fear, trust issues, and old wounds many times, but I haven’t truly confronted them. It’s as if I’ve been writing from the doorway—looking inward without stepping inside.

A fear of facing fear itself. Phobophobia, maybe.

I recently finished a recovery book that described four major risk factors for addiction: Genetic, Developmental, Environmental, and Creative Nature. I align with all four. While I’ve resisted the idea that I need to relive my past to move forward, I also recognize that early experiences shaped my beliefs, reactions, and emotional defenses. These long-standing patterns—fear, shame, distrust, self-protection—still influence my life today. I’m tired of their grip. I want better for myself and for the people close to me.

So how do I move forward?

I’m choosing to explore these patterns through the lens of Attachment Theory. Attachment Theory examines how early bonds with caregivers shape our emotional and relational patterns throughout life. Without claiming expertise, the model resonates with what I experienced growing up. Given my history, it’s not surprising that I lean toward a Fearful-Avoidant attachment style—wanting closeness, yet fearing it; desiring connection, yet withdrawing emotionally when things feel uncertain.

Afraid to feel.

Afraid to trust.

Afraid to love.

That’s not the life I want anymore. I’m not looking to blame people who were hurting in their own ways, nor to stay anchored in victimhood. I have autonomy now. I have agency. And I have people who care about me, if I choose to allow that care in.

As a next step, I plan to use the SMART Recovery ABC problem-solving framework to address specific fears and traumas—a tool that has already helped me work through challenges in Posts 38, 39, and 40. A structured approach may help me unpack the beliefs and emotional reactions that still have power over me.

This week isn’t about tackling one specific fear. It’s about laying the groundwork for the deeper work ahead. These are some of the questions I’m ready to explore:

• Why do I lie, even the small “white” ones? What fear sits underneath the avoidance of full honesty?

• Why does my mind default to “Why I can’t” instead of “Why can’t I?” when opportunities arise?

• I’m intensely triggered by violent crime and cruelty. I believe some people choose evil and deserve punishment. Is it wrong to want retributive justice?

• When I’m confronted with anger or threat, I freeze or flee. Why? And how do I change this?

These questions form the shovel I intend to pick up. It’s time to dig.

Recovery52 – Week 42 – My Why

Carefree youth

“Fear is the memory of pain. Addiction is the memory of pleasure. Freedom is beyond both.”

— Deepak Chopra

Here I am at Week 42 of this photography project documenting my recovery from alcohol addiction. Forty-two weeks of steady work—self-analysis, self-awareness, and daily practice of healthier skills and habits. I have changed the way I react to external triggers and how I respond to my internal thoughts and feelings. I’m proud that I have not turned to the false comfort of alcohol this year. And still, I know there is more work to do.

I’ve become more open and honest with family, friends, a trusted therapist, and myself. Yet I also recognize how often I remain guarded—defaulting to self-protection, avoiding confrontation, suppressing difficult feelings, and distracting myself instead of allowing vulnerability. These patterns limit my growth. They can hold me back from forming deeper relationships. And sometimes, unintentionally, they can even cause harm.

I’m reading a book on recovery right now, and a chapter on risk factors underlying addictive behavior struck me with unexpected clarity. Below are those factors and how they relate to my own life:

Genetic: There were drinkers on both sides of my family, along with diagnosed mental health issues.

Developmental: My mother’s multiple marriages—and the trauma brought on by abusive husbands and stepfathers—left deep marks on my early childhood. My ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) score is high.

Environmental: Without strong role models, and with the compounding effects of trauma and genetics, I grew up lacking confidence and the skills to stand up for myself. These patterns carried into adulthood.

Creative Nature: A sensitive nature, low self-confidence, and memories of criticism around creative activities led me to hide or abandon my artistic interests. Today, though, my photography is something I’m genuinely proud of. It proves that my creative voice never disappeared—it just needed space and safety to emerge.

These risk factors will be the focus of upcoming posts. Recently, I’ve used SMART Recovery’s ABC framework to navigate challenges. Moving forward, I want to blend that with other cognitive behavioral tools to better understand how these long-standing factors shape my thoughts, behaviors, and reactions. Greater clarity may help me see what truly needs to change.

I can’t change my past. But I can examine how I respond to triggers today. I can look at which risk factors are influencing me, and acknowledge the impact of old wounds without clinging to them. This isn’t about claiming victimhood or placing blame. It’s about forgiving myself for developing coping strategies that once helped me survive—and recognizing that the beliefs formed in childhood no longer serve me.

“I have the power of choice, and I can choose better.”

Recovery52 – Week 41 – Not This Time

“Learn from the past, prepare for the future, live in the present.”

— Thomas S. Monson

Last week, I wrote about a major shift in my recovery journey—my therapist moving on and the sudden need to continue forward without that familiar pillar of support. At the time, I felt grounded and confident in the strength I’ve built.

This week, though, something quieter surfaced. A small current of apprehension rose up when I was reminded of the upcoming time change—the clocks rolling back, mornings growing colder, evenings stretching darker. The feeling was subtle but persistent. Instead of brushing it aside, I chose to explore it.

Memories returned—not vague impressions, but sharp recollections of where I was last year at this time. In early November 2022, I had a major relapse and binge episode. More memories followed: smaller slips throughout that fall and winter, ending in a final binge as the year turned toward 2023. Each one was painful. Each one hurt me. Each one affected people I cared about. I would get up again, shaky but determined, only to slide back down when the memory of pain faded and old thoughts returned: “I can handle it this time.” Or worse, I stopped thinking altogether and tried to outrun the darkness and overwhelm.

A detailed retelling of one of those relapse episodes might be useful in a future post—for myself and for anyone struggling with alcohol. But for now, I want to return to the quote that opens this week, and to the progress I see in how I approach my thoughts and feelings today.

I felt apprehension about the future—and I confronted it.

I remembered the mistakes I refuse to repeat.

I recognized the strength I’ve earned through honesty, practice, and sustained effort.

I stayed in the present. I didn’t get lost in rumination. And that grounded me.

This clarity doesn’t mean I’m free from worry. I still feel concern about past decisions, finances, relationships, uncertainty about the future, and moments of wavering confidence in my recovery. These areas deserve attention. At the same time, I’m learning to give myself space for activities that bring calm during lonely or challenging stretches—photography, reading for pleasure, jigsaw puzzles, and time in nature. Moments of stillness help me stay centered.

The coming season—with its cold, wet, and dark—will not dim the light of my recovery.

Recovery52 – Week 40 – Transitions

From an early morning contemplative walk at the Japanese Gardens in Portland, OR.

“A man's pride can be his downfall, and he needs to learn when to turn to others for support and guidance.”

— Bear Grylls

This week brought unexpected change in my recovery support network. After more than ten months of consistent, steady work with a therapist who helped me rebuild my life, I received an email letting me know he would be leaving the practice. We would have only one more session together. I sat in my car for a long time after reading the message, letting the weight of it settle.

A few thoughts rose quickly:

• I have not been successful long-term in past recoveries when I convinced myself I could do this alone.

• I have ended counseling relationships too early before—and relapsed.

• I did feel some relief around my tight budget, but I also understood that the cost of relapse is always far greater.

This situation deserved to be examined using the SMART ABC tool.

Activating Event: After ten months of sobriety and growth, much of it supported by the guidance of a skilled therapist, I received the news that he would be moving on, leaving us with one final session together.

Belief: My first thoughts were conflicting. I felt fear because past attempts without strong therapeutic support have not ended well. I also felt relieved at the financial break, while knowing that avoiding relapse matters far more than saving money.

Consequence: I immediately recalled where past recoveries faltered—when I lacked the proper tools and support. But I also felt proud of my therapist and grateful that he offered referrals. I chose not to let anxiety spin out. I let the news settle in the background, knowing it would surface again in writing.

Dispute: Today, I have intrinsic motivation, momentum, and a solid foundation. I trust myself more than I ever have. I have tools, healthy routines, and genuine pride in my creative work. I live more consciously, more intentionally. I am stronger and wiser this time.

Effective New Belief: I will continue forward with the skills, insight, and clarity I’ve gained. I will seek new therapeutic support if I even sense the need. My recovery is worth the cost, the energy, and the adjustment. I have agency in my choices. I will not relapse.

I am deeply grateful for the support my counselor provided over the past year. His guidance helped me build the stability I now stand on. I will continue my recovery with the same honesty, curiosity, and commitment that have carried me this far.

Recovery52 – Week 39 – Trash Talking

“To leave the world better than you found it, sometimes you have to pick up other people’s trash.”

— Bill Nye

Last week, I wrote about the need to go deeper in my recovery. I’m confident and comfortable in my sobriety and in the healthy habits that support it. But I also know that I continue to react to events with old thought patterns—beliefs and emotional imprints formed long ago. These often lead to unhelpful or unhealthy reactions, what can fairly be called maladaptive behaviors.

This week, I’m using the SMART Recovery ABC tool, based in cognitive behavioral therapy, to examine and adjust my thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. It helps uncover the beliefs behind emotional reactions and guides healthier responses. This ABC activity is very useful as a post-mortem to examine past events, learn from them, and be prepared for future events.

Here is this week’s ABC example:

Activating Event: A few months ago, during a group hike near Portland, we came across a pile of garbage dumped along a rural road at the trailhead—the scene captured in the above photograph. I felt immediate anger, and that anger spoiled my walk that morning.

Belief: I despise purposeful littering and illegal dumping. I want those responsible to be held accountable—or at least receive a strong dose of karma.

Consequence: The anger I felt lingered. In the past, this kind of unresolved upset would add to a mental pile of frustrations that could eventually push me toward numbing behaviors. Not this time.

Dispute: Malicious behavior by a small number of people is rare. Harboring general anger at specific instances won’t solve the problem, nor will it help my emotional health.

Effective New Belief: I cannot control others. But I can control how I react. Rather than let anger poison my day, I can acknowledge it, accept it, diffuse it—and then pick up the trash, when possible, making the place better than I found it.

I can’t control others or the world, but I can control myself and my reactions. I can choose to make a positive difference.

Recovery52 – Week 38 – Boarded Up

From a recent activist’s party in Portland, OR.

“Character isn't inherited. One builds it daily by the way one thinks and acts, thought by thought, action by action. If one lets fear or hate or anger take possession of the mind, they become self-forged chains.”

— Helen Gahagan Douglas

Last week, I wrote about the need to go deeper in my recovery. I’m confident in my sobriety and in the healthy habits that support it, but I also know that I still react to life with old beliefs and emotional patterns formed long ago. Those patterns often lead to unhealthy, unhelpful reactions—maladaptive behaviors that no longer serve me. The photo I chose this week, with its boarded-up windows, is a metaphor for how I sometimes shut out the world.

Many of my recent posts have been soft and safe, avoiding deeper honesty. I often hold back thoughts if I worry someone may take offense or feel hurt. In conversations with my therapist and trusted friends, I’ve realized that my recovery will stall if I don’t work directly with my emotional “stuff.” This project began as a tool for my own healing, and I reminded myself that even if no one else ever read these posts, they would still matter. They still help me. And if they help others, that’s a bonus.

Now it’s time to continue my healing work. For that, I’m leaning into a tool I learned through SMART Recovery—an exercise based in cognitive behavioral therapy called the ABC model. It helps uncover the thoughts and beliefs behind emotional reactions and guides healthier responses.

Here is an example from today:

Activating Event: While walking in nature this morning, I visited a well-known arboretum and forestry center. I saw multiple windows shattered and boarded with plywood—serious, recent vandalism. Transit workers told me it was caused by climate activists protesting forest policy. I felt immediate anger.

Belief: I despise vandalism and destruction. My instinct is toward retributive justice—I want those responsible to face consequences.

Consequence: I recognized quickly that this anger would not push me toward drinking, as it once might have. But I still carried the anger with me for much of the day.

Dispute: This is where I’m meant to question whether my belief is true or helpful. I know it needs refinement, but I’m not ready to abandon it.

Effective New Belief: Much vandalism is out of my control. I can acknowledge my anger, accept it, and then release it through mindful breathing and grounding techniques rather than letting it poison the day.

This was just one example, but I plan to continue using the ABC model to work through deeper triggers, old wounds, and long-standing beliefs. Pushing these feelings down out of fear of upsetting others is dishonest—to them and to myself. It’s time to break the chains.

Recovery52 – Week 35 – Passion Over Addiction

“Passion creates, addiction consumes.”

— Gabor Maté, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts

This has been a good week for me, relatively speaking. At thirty-five weeks alcohol-free, having moved beyond routine urges and practicing healthier habits in both thought and behavior, I feel my sobriety is solid. But I also know—through hard experience—that sobriety is never guaranteed.

I’ve abstained before. I can recall three serious attempts at sobriety after drinking became a problem in my life, only to return to the false comfort of numbness or altered awareness. Those attempts were what I now think of as “white-knuckle recovery”—efforts held together by fear, willpower, and desperation, but without the deeper internal work needed to sustain change.

The difference this time is that I have changed. I’ve worked to understand myself through self-awareness, with support from loved ones and a good therapist. I’ve recognized how my old ways of thinking kept me on a path that was slowly destroying me. I’ve practiced mindfulness, learned to accept reality instead of hiding from it, and begun choosing wise responses instead of blind reactions.

Most importantly, I’m excited about sobriety this time—truly excited. And I feel passionate about creating—creating a better version of myself, creating more meaningful relationships, creating art with my photography, and creating my future. Creativity restores meaning to my life in ways alcohol never could.

Recovery52 – Week 31 – Toxic Media Detox

“Don't let the bearers of bad news become the pallbearers of your happiness.”

— Stewart Stafford

My initial thoughts for this week’s post were about revisiting rumination—how dwelling on the past or worrying about the future stirs up shame, regret, and fear. Those imagined monsters can become powerful triggers. But I’ll save that for another post.

Last night, I felt the early stirrings of anger—an emotional rise that reminded me of the kind of mood that once led me toward drinking. It began after I came across a few news headlines that irritated me. Instead of stepping back, I found a recent podcast on the topic, hosted by people I used to find humorous. Within fifteen minutes, I realized my agitation was growing. I shut it off immediately, returned to silence and mindfulness, and eventually shifted into reading for pleasure. I wasn’t close to relapse—I was self-aware.

I credit part of my recovery progress to recognizing the dangers of overindulging in news and social media, especially sources designed to provoke fear, outrage, and division. After the September 11th attacks, I became a news ’junkie,’ absorbing talk radio and cable news for hours each day. My beliefs, biases, and worldview were shaped by constant exposure to negativity.

As social media grew, I dove into the toxic stream—posting, arguing, sharing my ’truths,’ and mocking others’ opinions. I was angry, and I was drinking. The anger fueled the drinking, and the drinking fueled the anger.

In 2007, I created a Twitter account, where I shared links and made snarky comments about news and culture. By 2013, I had posted over 17,000 tweets and had more than 2,000 followers. My drinking was worsening, affecting my family and marriage. I realized I needed to cut my immersion in all that negativity if I hoped to get sober. I deleted my account and haven’t returned. Drunken tweets are never good.

During my lapses last year, I spent too much time with political commentary—podcasts, YouTube channels, and cultural debates. I was often agitated, on edge. Combined with other factors, each lapse turned into a binge, followed by remorse, regret, apologies, and promises to stop. None of it held until my final relapse.

Since that turning point, I’ve deliberately reduced my exposure to news media. Now, I mostly skim headlines, pay attention to what matters, and distinguish factual reporting from opinion. On social media, I focus on photography, food, this project, and the occasional bit of light humor. I still follow local issues now and then, but I try not to be snarky.

My success here comes from knowing my history, recognizing my triggers, and choosing healthier responses when old patterns surface. Recovery requires vigilance—especially now, in another exhausting political cycle and an overstimulating media environment.

Recovery52 – Week 28 – Avoiding and Evading

“We cannot selectively numb emotions; when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions.”

— Brené Brown

I’m a couple of days late with this week’s post. My Recovery52 schedule—publishing every Thursday—has become a quiet form of accountability. Without goals, I drift; without structure, I slip. The delay came partly from a needed camping trip, and partly from wrestling with a topic too big to fit neatly into a single week’s reflection.

In previous entries, I’ve written about accepting help, working with my therapist, and developing mindfulness habits that support sobriety. Those efforts remain solid, but they’re not the whole story. True recovery, I’m learning, asks for more than abstinence and awareness. It requires honesty, courage, and a willingness to be seen.

The quote above captures where I am right now. I may no longer reach for alcohol to numb discomfort, but I still find ways to go half-numb—through reading, film, chores, photography, even naps. None of these are harmful on their own; the problem comes when they become quiet escapes from self-reflection or necessary action. Awareness is one thing; avoidance dressed as productivity is another.

The second challenge is evasiveness—hesitation to speak difficult truths, especially when I fear they might upset or expose me. Old fears of rejection, conflict, and vulnerability still whisper: Don’t make waves. So I smooth things over, change the subject, or retreat behind silence. Those habits once protected me; now they confine me.

“Lying is done with words and also with silence.”

— Adrienne Rich

Avoidance and evasiveness are deeply rooted patterns, and unlearning them will require sustained attention.

In the coming weeks, I plan to explore the limiting beliefs and self-protective reflexes that hold me back. I’m proud of how far I’ve come—216 days sober—but I know there’s deeper work ahead. Relapse is not an option.

Riffs: Courage, Resilienc