This weekend hit me hard—back-to-back blows that left me feeling drained, frustrated, and dangerously close to old habits. First, a car accident totaled my vehicle. Then, before I could even process that loss, I lost my wallet. It felt like the universe was taking everything from me all at once.
As I sit here writing this, there’s a part of me that wants to escape, to numb the stress, frustration, and anxiety the way I used to. I want to block it all out, pretend it’s not happening, and sink into that familiar darkness where I don’t have to feel. But then I hear my son’s words echoing in my mind: “Things happen for a reason.”
At this moment, I’m struggling to believe that. What possible reason could there be for this kind of chaos? Why would God allow me to go through so much at once when I’m already fighting to stay on my feet? But even though my faith feels shaky right now, I know deep down that God hasn’t abandoned me. He’s still here, walking through this storm with me.
Old Triggers, New Choices
In recovery, we talk a lot about triggers—the things that push us toward relapse, those moments when the weight of life feels unbearable. This weekend was one of those moments. The stress, the anger, the helplessness—they all crept in, whispering that getting high would make it easier.
But here’s the truth: it wouldn’t.
Getting high wouldn’t bring my car back. It wouldn’t magically return my wallet. It wouldn’t undo any of what happened. All it would do is add another layer of pain, another problem to fix, another reason to feel disappointed in myself. And I’ve worked too damn hard to go back down that road.
I know how easy it is to fall into the trap of self-destruction. I’ve been there before. But today, I’m making a different choice. Today, I’m choosing to sit with the discomfort, to feel the pain instead of running from it. Because pain, as much as I hate it, is part of life. And if I don’t let myself feel it, I also rob myself of the opportunity to grow from it.
Perspective Shift
Right now, it feels like everything is falling apart. But if I step back, take a deep breath, and look at the bigger picture, I can see something else—something I might not have noticed if I was still caught up in my old ways.
1. I’m still here. I survived the car accident. That alone is a blessing. Cars can be replaced, but life can’t.
2. I didn’t relapse. The fact that I’m writing this instead of using is proof that I’m stronger than I sometimes believe.
3. I have support. My son reminded me of something I needed to hear. Even in my lowest moments, I’m not alone.
It’s easy to get lost in the negatives, to let them overshadow everything else. But recovery has taught me to find the light in the darkness. Even when I don’t see it right away, I know it’s there.
Moving Forward
So, what now? How do I keep going when everything feels heavy?
I start with gratitude.
Not the kind that ignores the pain or pretends things are okay when they’re not. But the kind that recognizes the good even in the middle of the struggle. I can be frustrated, angry, and overwhelmed, and still be grateful that I have another day to keep fighting.
I remind myself that setbacks don’t define me. Losing my car, losing my wallet—these things suck, no doubt. But they don’t take away everything I’ve worked for. They don’t erase my progress. They don’t mean I’ve lost.
I trust—even when it’s hard—that this moment is just that: a moment. It won’t last forever. I will get through it. And when I do, I’ll be stronger for it.
If you’re reading this and you’re struggling too, I want you to know that you’re not alone. Life is unpredictable. It will knock us down when we least expect it. But we don’t have to stay down. We can get back up. We can keep moving forward. We can choose, again and again, to fight for the life we deserve.
Today, I choose recovery. I choose faith. I choose to believe, even when it’s hard, that everything happens for a reason. And even if I can’t see that reason yet, I trust that one day, I will.
