Tag: Freedom

  • May My Sober Success Offend Anyone Who Didn’t Want Me to Succeed — And That’s Okay.

    There’s a certain fire that burns within when you rise from the ashes of your old life and start walking boldly in your purpose.

    Sobriety isn’t just about quitting alcohol—it’s about reclaiming your power, your peace, your faith, and your future. It’s about choosing healing over hiding, clarity over chaos, and purpose over pain. And if my success in sobriety offends the ones who never thought I’d make it—so be it.

    Let it offend them.

    Let it shake the foundation of the narratives they built around who I used to be.

    Because here’s the truth: I wasn’t put on this earth to live small so others could stay comfortable. I wasn’t saved just to stay silent. And I didn’t fight tooth and nail through withdrawals, tears, loneliness, and spiritual warfare to tiptoe around the feelings of people who secretly hoped I’d fail.

    God didn’t rescue me from my rock bottom just so I could keep playing the victim. He gave me new breath, a new identity, and a new mission. He gave me victory.

    So yes—may my sober success offend the hell out of those who counted me out.

    May my healing rattle those who once whispered about my brokenness.

    May my joy shake the ground beneath anyone who thought I’d drown in sorrow.

    Because this isn’t just success—it’s redemption.

    It’s freedom.
    It’s peace.
    It’s grace.

    And it’s loud on purpose.

    I hope my story reminds every woman still battling her demons that there is life after addiction. There is beauty beyond the bottle. There is power in choosing Jesus over numbness, healing over hiding, and sobriety over shame.

    And if my light offends you… maybe it’s because you were never meant to walk beside it.

    But for those who feel seen in these words—for those who are silently fighting for their breakthrough—know this: you’re not alone. You’re not weak. And your story isn’t over.

    Keep rising. Keep healing. Keep choosing the life God called you to live.

    Because your success will speak volumes—louder than the voices that ever doubted you.

    And that’s the kind of offense worth celebrating.

  • Forgetting My Sobriety Anniversary & Finding True Freedom

    The other day, it hit me—I forgot my sobriety anniversary.

    For a moment, I panicked. How could I forget something so monumental? The day my life changed. The day I took my power back. The day I stepped into the unknown, terrified but ready.

    But then, just as quickly, a wave of peace settled over me.

    I forgot… because I’m free.

    Beyond the Countdown

    In the beginning, I counted everything.

    Days. Hours. Minutes.

    Every milestone felt like a mountain I had climbed, proof that I was doing it, that I was still standing. I clung to those numbers like they were the only thing keeping me afloat.

    One month. Three months. Six. A year.

    And for a long time, tracking my sobriety felt necessary. It reminded me of how far I’d come, how much work I had put in, how I had survived what once felt impossible. But somewhere along the way, the need to count started to fade.

    Not because my sobriety became any less important, but because it became a part of me.

    Sobriety Is Not a Destination

    I think, in the early days, I saw sobriety as a finish line. Like if I just made it to a certain number, I’d be fixed. I’d be healed. The struggle would disappear.

    But that’s not how it works.

    Sobriety isn’t something I’m waiting for. It’s not a future achievement I’m counting down toward.

    It’s just… life.

    It’s the way I wake up in the morning, clear-headed and at peace. It’s the way I show up for my family, fully present instead of lost in regret. It’s the way I no longer need to mark the time because I’m no longer surviving—I’m living.

    Liberation in Just Being

    Forgetting my anniversary doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean I take my sobriety for granted. If anything, it means I’ve truly embraced it.

    Because this is no longer a temporary fight. It’s no longer something I have to white-knuckle through, gripping onto every passing day like proof that I’m still here.

    I am sober. I am free. And I don’t need a countdown to remind me of that.

    Just Living

    There was a time when I wondered if I would ever feel normal again. If I’d always be hyper-aware of the passing days, if I’d ever stop measuring my success by numbers and milestones.

    And now, here I am.

    No longer waiting for something. No longer tied to a clock. No longer counting.

    Just living.

    And isn’t that the most beautiful kind of freedom?

    To anyone still tracking, still counting, still holding on tight—your freedom is coming too. One day, you’ll wake up and realize you forgot. And in that moment, you’ll know: you made it. 💛