This is where I show up and tell the truth.
Reflections, poems, check-ins, and thoughts from the front lines of recovery.
Some days it’s messy, some days it’s a little clearer — but it’s all real.
If it’s in here, I needed to say it.
Reflection: I didn’t float here on good vibes and green juice.I clawed my way through cravings,through lies I told myself,through the hundred reasons to say “screw it.”Thirty days. Not clean. Not perfect. But real.And I didn’t do it alone.God dragged my sorry ass through more than a few of these. I’m tired. I’m grateful. I’m … Read more
It ain’t a craving. Ain’t hunger. It’s that goddamn ache. The one food used to smother. But I didn’t fold. Didn’t numb it. Didn’t sell myself out today. It fucking hurts. But I’m here. Still here. Still not eating over it. Still… Still aching. Still pissed. Still clawing toward 30.
Day 28 – Flinch The temptation today came fast.Sudden. Sharp. Smelled like old comfort. I flinched. Not a fall, but a stagger.Almost reached for the thing I swore off. But flinching ain’t failing. I paused. Breathed. Texted. Prayed. I stayed. Still…Still hungry—but not for food.Still dodging the old traps.Still calling it what it is: obsession.Still … Read more
Day 27 – Gut Check Today asked for honesty.And I didn’t want to give it. I wanted to lie by omission.I wanted to say, “Yeah, I’m fine.” But I wasn’t.And I didn’t. I reached out. I told on myself.And it helped. Because when I don’t gut-check, I gut-punch my recovery. This is where I stop … Read more
Day 26 – Smolder The fire didn’t go out—it just pulled back into coals.Low, red, steady. Waiting. It’s easy to think the passion’s gone when things quiet down.But maybe this isn’t apathy—maybe it’s conservation.Holding fuel for the next hard stretch.Resting, not quitting. The work’s still getting done.The prayers still go up.The food still gets weighed. … Read more
Theme: Getting back into rhythm. Sloppy discipline, but no surrender. Journal-Style Entry: Today I realized something: I’ve been playing recovery like an out-of-tune guitar. The right notes are there, but they’re off. I’m half-measuring food, mumbling prayers, skipping corners on my journaling. Still abstinent, but not sharp. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being honest. … Read more
Theme: Mentally fogged, spiritually sluggish, physically present but barely. Journal-Style Entry: The mental fog is thick today. Like I’m driving with dirty headlights in a snowstorm. I’m doing the things—showing up, eating abstinently, checking the boxes—but my head ain’t in the game. It’s not dramatic. No breakdowns or binges. But it’s a spiritual dullness. I’m … Read more
Today wasn’t all struggle. There was a spark. Not a fire. Not a blaze. Just enough light to see the road. It came in a message. A look. A pause in the chaos that said, “You’re not alone.” I’m not cured. Not coasting. But something inside caught flame again. And I want to feed that. … Read more
The crack in the dam was barely visible. Just a thought. Just a glance. Just a “What if I…?” But that’s how it starts. The addict doesn’t kick the door down. He taps on the window. He whispers a maybe. He smiles like an old friend. I felt the crack today. And I patched it. … Read more
Some days I don’t crash. I just coast. Not checked out, but not fully checked in either. Sliding through the day like a busted shopping cart with one janky wheel. Recovery isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s the slow fade I need to watch for. That comfortable drift toward old patterns, toward half-measures, toward the voice … Read more