Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit you’re not okay. And sometimes, choosing help feels like choosing the unknown. If you’re considering alcohol addiction
I walked into my office one Monday morning feeling polished as ever. Suit on. Smiles made. Reports ready. But under the surface I was somewhere else—tired,
Thanksgiving was approaching, and I couldn’t pretend anymore. I was still showing up—at work, with family, at the table—but I wasn’t really there. I had mastered
Early recovery isn’t all hope and clarity. Sometimes, it’s sitting on your bed at 9:30 p.m. with a craving so loud you can’t think. Sometimes, it’s
I used to rely on wine like a coping strategy in a glass. Not for fun, not to get drunk. Just to get through. Through the
You didn’t imagine it would happen like this. Not after 90 days. Not after the progress, the clarity, the peace you’d started to feel. But it
You signed up. You showed up—once, twice, maybe more. And then… you stopped. Maybe the sessions felt like too much. Maybe life outside group didn’t slow
They didn’t find out. That’s what mattered. You got to every meeting. Hit every deadline. Made the soccer game. Laughed at the jokes. Handled your life.
You didn’t plan to stop going. Maybe it started with one missed day. Then two. Then the shame rolled in like a fog—and suddenly, reaching out
I was the kind of person people came to for help. The one who always had a solution. The one who held it together when things
I wasn’t spiraling. I wasn’t passed out in a parking lot. I wasn’t missing work or getting in trouble. I was performing. Producing. Smiling. Texting back.
You know you need help. Not in the dramatic, fall-on-the-floor kind of way. But in the quieter, scarier way—where you’re still functioning, but not really living.
