Sobriety didn’t just take away the wine — it peeled back layers I didn’t even know existed.
Truth is… I don’t think I ever really knew who I was.
I had to grow up fast. I faced loss and trauma way before I even understood what healing meant. I never learned what self-love was supposed to feel like — and honestly, I still struggle with it.
For years, I chased attention from the wrong places, thinking maybe if someone noticed me, maybe if I felt needed, I’d feel whole.
But no one has ever made me feel more seen, more wanted, or more loved than my husband and my children. They gave me what I didn’t even know I was craving — purpose.
And yet…
I’m left wondering — who am I outside of being a wife and a mom?
I have big feelings. Big dreams. Little pieces of ideas and visions for what I want to do with this one life. But they swirl around in circles — creative highs and deep valleys of uncertainty. I feel stuck, sad, and sometimes even lost.
Because for so long, I poured from an empty cup.
I never took time to put myself — my healing, my passions, my dreams — first.
Instead, I poured alcohol into the emptiness. Numbed it. Drowned it.
But all it did was leave me more confused, more disconnected from the woman I was meant to be.
Now I’m here — sober, awake, raw — standing in the mirror trying to meet myself for the first time.
It’s hard. It’s emotional. But it’s real. And it’s honest.
And maybe that’s where rediscovery begins…
Not with answers, but with the courage to finally ask the right questions.
If you’re in this place too — you’re not alone.
We’re all just trying to find our way home to ourselves.
…But healing is not a straight line.
There are days I apply for the job I think I want — only to pull back, questioning everything the moment I hit “submit.”
There are moments I reach out to cosmetology schools, wondering if finally finishing something I once started will help me feel accomplished, seen… proud of myself.
Some days, I even drive an hour away to meet with an advisor to talk through classes for the next semester — only to talk myself out of it on the way home, doubts filling the space where dreams used to live.
Then there are days I remind myself:
Being home is safe.
Working on me is safe.
Being a wife, mom, chef, taxi driver, dog walker, caretaker — this is safe.
Creating a home that feels warm, comforting, and filled with love — that’s a beautiful purpose.
Studying food, learning how to nourish my family, figuring out what’s best for each of them — that’s sacred work, too.
But still…
Some days hit me hard.
I feel confused.
I feel sad.
I feel angry — not at anyone else, but at the version of me who, for as long as I can remember, let dreams slip through her fingers.
At the girl who walked away from goals and passions because someone else made her believe she wasn’t good enough… wasn’t capable… wasn’t worthy of more.
And now, the only difference is — I feel all of this sober.
No drink to numb it. No buzz to blur the ache.
Just me, raw and aware, sitting with emotions I used to drown.
And while that’s one of the hardest parts of this journey…
It’s also the most honest, most healing, most transformative part.
Because even though I’m still figuring it all out… at least now, I’m doing it awake.
I’m finally choosing to feel — to explore — to unearth every part of me I used to silence.
Maybe that’s where the magic begins — not in having it all figured out, but in finally choosing to show up for yourself, even when it’s messy… even when it’s scary… even when you feel lost.
I don’t have all the answers.
But I’m learning to trust the process.
And maybe, just maybe — that’s enough for today.
Sober Without Secrets 