What Recovery from Addiction Means to Me

Recovery means different things to different people.

I don’t believe there’s one right way to recover, and I have no interest in telling anyone that my way is the only way.

People recover through 12-step fellowships.

Through SMART Recovery.

Through therapy.

Through medication.

Through faith.

Through family.

Through community.

And often through a combination of many different things.

This isn’t an article about the “right” way to recover.

It’s simply about what recovery has come to mean to me after 28 years in recovery myself, 10 years working in addiction services, and having the privilege of walking alongside others on their own journeys.

When I first stopped using, I knew that recovery existed, but had no real notion of what it was.

All I knew was that the consequences of my using had reached a crisis point and something needed to change. 

But just stopping and white-knuckling it isn’t usually enough. All the reasons why we used can come rushing back. 

For me, recovery isn’t simply about removing alcohol, drugs or other compulsive behaviours.

It’s about healing the person who needed them in the first place.

And it’s about making change.

Changing the way we see ourselves.

Changing the way we see other people.

Changing the way we view life, the world and our place in them. 

I Found a Sense of Home

I still remember my very first meeting.

I was hungover and felt like hell. And was running late.

I remember the speaker that night, and feeling overwhelmed at just how many other people were in the room.

I left before the end, as I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone.

But I saw that I wasn’t some kind of freak who didn’t have a clue what they were doing.

That there were other people who also didn’t have all their shit together.

That somehow, I belonged. That these were people just like me.

So I returned the next night to another, smaller meeting.

And I made a new friend. I began to connect.

And I kept going to meetings, because I saw people who had what I didn’t have.

A sense of freedom.

A sense of happiness.

A sense of being comfortable with themselves.

And little by little, I began to feel more comfortable with myself.

To feel safe enough to start letting my shield down.

Safe enough to start showing people the parts of myself that I kept hidden.

And they didn’t run away from me.

They didn’t laugh at me. They laughed with me.

They saw me. All of me.

And they accepted me.

And in their accepting of me, I began slowly, oh so slowly, to accept myself.

That maybe I wasn’t a freak after all.

That maybe I was, horror of horrors, just human.

A human just as they were.

And with these people, I experienced for the first time…

…somewhere that felt like home.

Coming Home to Myself

I often get the impression that many people imagine recovery as an ongoing, never-ending battle against addiction.

That’s not been my experience, nor the experience of anyone else I know with longer-term recovery.

I sometimes get thoughts of using. I think that’s normal.

But they are always fleeting.

And I stay mindful of what would probably happen if I picked up again.

Sure, early recovery was more testing.

It was a case of not using one day at a time.

Over time, something changed.

Now, not using is my normal.

And recovery became about so much more than not using.

It’s been learning about what makes me tick.

Understanding the nature of my wounds.

My default ways of thinking, feeling and reacting.

And learning how to tend to them.

About seeing the reality of who I am—

wounded, sure, but strong, resilient, caring, dependable, creative, genuine, kooky, sensitive, on the spectrum, courageous, gentle…

Recovery has given me the capacity to feel comfortable in my own skin.

To forgive others and to forgive myself.

To recover from the crippling shame.

To sit with pain, and know it will pass.

To be vulnerable.

And it has taken time - recovery cannot be rushed.

Perhaps it won’t take you as long as it took me.

Perhaps it will.

But that doesn’t matter.

There is no destination.

There is only the journey.

And what an amazing, scary, beautiful, rewarding journey it is.