Imagine a life overflowing with joy, a happiness so profound it seeps into your very bones—a happiness addiction stole from you, leaving only shadows in its wake. Picture yourself caught in a relentless cycle, a hamster wheel of despair, or tangled in a spider’s web as I call it , each day bleeding into the next. It’s a soul-crushing monotony that absolutely numbs the mind and exhausts the spirit.
In the grip of addiction, you don’t even notice the vibrant pieces of life slipping away, they are replaced by a single, suffocating obsession. That’s the cruel trick of it—one thing consumes everything, leaving you empty inside.
But recovery? Recovery is the bold, defiant act of letting go of that one thing to reclaim the entire universe you lost. It’s a trade worth making. To give up 1 thing to regain EVERYTHING! Let that sink in . Just 1 thing !
They say the monkey’s always perched on your shoulder, hence my photo for this piece of writing,a sly whisperer of temptation. Sometimes it’s silent for months, even years, biding its time. But when it speaks—oh, trust me you’ll hear it fucking loud and clear. In the early days of sobriety,
Its voice can roar like a tidal wave, threatening to drown you. That’s when you dig deep, stand firm, because if you falter, that monkey won’t just bring chaos—it’ll bring the whole fucking circus along with it.
Yet, as the days stack up, turning into weeks, then months, something shifts. The monkey’s chatter fades, its grip weakens, until one day, it’s nothing but a distant echo. That’s when the magic ignites. Life cracks open, spilling out possibilities you never knew existed.
Then comes the moment that you wake up, and it hits you like a lightning bolt—you made it. The feeling is electric, a triumph so pure it defies words. Only those who’ve walked this path, who’ve clawed their way out of the abyss, can truly understand. It’s not just happiness—it’s the greatest high on earth.
Suddenly, you’re living with a fire in your chest, a burning integrity that guides you. You’re doing the opposite of what that old version of you would’ve done—choosing light over darkness, action over being a mental loafer.
Plans start to take shape, dreams you’d buried begin to breathe new life again. You’re not just imagining a future; you’re forging it, molding it with your own hands. There’s no greater feeling.
Goals—big, small, doesn’t matter—become your own anchor. These Goals keep you steady, they give you back purpose. And when you glance back at who you were, that stranger staring back feels alien, like a ghost from someone else’s story. That person wasn’t a bad person or evil—just sick, lost in a haze until they stumbled towards help.
I used to believe my family despised me, that they were out to cage me. The truth is, they were never the enemy. They were fighting for me, desperate to keep me from an early grave.
If you’ve still got family, friends, anyone who hasn’t given up—grab their outstretched hands before they’re gone. Everyone’s got a limit.
I hit rock bottom once, but I scaled that mountain. To everyone out there still battling, still swinging—respect. You’re warriors. To anyone struggling, here’s a hug 🤗 and a heart ❤️.
Keep your chin up. FAIL? That’s just your First Attempt In Learning. Stumbling doesn’t mean you’re finished—it means you’re starting.
As @RyanForRecovery ( Ryan Hampton ) taught me Shout your recovery from the rooftops. Your story isn’t just yours—it’s a lifeline. It could pull someone else from the edge.
~ Joe I can also be found at @Joeyoung2021 ( x formerly twitter )
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