Navigating Recovery: A Delicate Game of Operation
Seattle is paradise, though
Recovery from addiction is complicated, a never-ending mix of highs and lows. Sometimes, it’s smooth sailing—you're on top of the world, feeling like a Sober Superhero who can’t be tempted by even the toughest hurdles. But then, out of nowhere, a single day without a drink feels like a painstaking game of Operation. Every decision becomes delicate, carefully made to stave off impulsive reactions. You’ve been here before, and you know how quickly everything can change if you’re not vigilant.
For a solid year and a half, I was on a lucky streak. My life wasn’t perfect, but I was sober, and I was doing it right. I was exceeding my own expectations, and the nights felt easy. I couldn’t believe it was actually sticking. I was doing “the work” daily, attending therapy, participating in the community, and exercising. I even created Dry and Disorderly to help others—things were looking up. I felt fortunate and grateful for the chance to help others. I was ALL IN.
Having my life together started paying off. My relationships improved, I paid off debt, and I even started making art. I made the bold move from Texas to the PNW, a dream I had been chasing for years. My first month in Seattle was tough, but I was managing.
Then, a familiar fear crept in. Anxiety that my past might follow me here started to grow. I had a fresh start ahead, a clean slate where no one knew me—only memories to be made. But I became terrified that I would lose control and sabotage this opportunity. I was haunted by nightmares that my hands would take me to a liquor store while I screamed at myself to go home. Then, I’d wake up weeks later surrounded by empty whiskey bottles.
The fear wouldn’t let go, so I dove deeper into shadow work. I needed to confront this lingering trauma that was preventing me from embracing this new chapter. I dove in hard, searching for any unresolved issues, clearing out old wounds, and confronting them head-on.
Eventually, my pile of unresolved issues grew bigger—like giraffe-sized big. I thought I’d cleaned this up before, but here I was, tackling it all over again. No matter, I was ready to face it. I refused to let self-sabotage win. I wasn’t going to let myself or my family down.
I started tending to my mess at warp speed. I wanted it all finished—sanded, lacquered, and bolted down—so I could finally enjoy my life. I juggled multiple things at once, constantly in motion. I studied recovery, journaled, cried, and did what worked for me.
That’s when everything went sideways. I had too much going on at once. I was forcing myself to relive trauma I wasn’t ready for. I was dredging up memories I had already packed away, making everything worse. I obsessed over counting the days of my sobriety and comparing my journey to others.
Addiction is sneaky. We give up one obsession only to replace it with another. Many of us get deeply into hobbies—whether it’s lifting weights, cooking, gardening, or art. And, we get obsessed with talking about addiction. We count the days, celebrate milestones, and count our blessings every night. It feels thrilling, a real high.
This can be helpful… for a while. Consuming sober content, building community, and celebrating milestones are crucial in early sobriety or at any stage. But, without balance, it can become a trap. There’s too much pressure not to slip, and you start thinking if you do, it’s all for nothing. A slip means starting over, and you’re right back where you started.
Now I know this isn’t true, and I’m quick to remind others of this when they fall into self-loathing after a setback. A slip doesn’t undo everything you’ve worked through. It doesn’t erase progress. But, it’s easy to believe that when it’s your mistake, not someone else’s.
I became so obsessed with recovery that I wanted to be the “perfect alcoholic” as if that’s even a thing.
When shadow work swallowed me up, I knew I had no choice but to step back. I was rushing through steps I wasn’t ready for, forcing progress. I needed a time-out. I had turned recovery into my drug of choice, which ironically made me relapse into my actual addiction.
So, I took time off from the community and stopped posting on my website. I needed to escape the pressure I’d created for myself until I could trust myself to return.
Another lesson learned, and I’m back with a new mindset on recovery. This process is fluid. What works in one stage of life doesn’t necessarily work in another. You adapt, go with the ebbs and flows, and experiment with new methods and routines. You’ll hit a few rocks along the way, but that’s part of the journey. Don’t stop to fantasize about the destination—focus on today.
Balance isn’t my strong suit, but I’m working on it through discipline. I’m happy to be back, happy to dive back into this work (steadily), and back into the hobbies that keep me motivated to keep going.
Just keep trekking, babes. If you’re getting back up, I’m proud of you. That’s the hardest part. Just keep getting back up.
