Tag: Triggers and Coping Strategies

  • Unheard, But Healing: Learning to Be Seen in Sobriety

    For so many years, I felt unseen and unheard.

    My talents went unnoticed, my passions unappreciated, and slowly, that dimmed the light inside me.

    I used to pour my heart into things I loved, creative projects, ideas, words that mattered to me, only to be met with silence or surface-level support. The hardest part wasn’t the lack of applause, it was hearing people praise others for the same things I’d been doing all along. It left me wondering, Why not me? Why am I invisible in the eyes of the people I love most?

    That quiet kind of pain is heavy. It makes you want to retreat, to stop sharing, to stop caring. And for a long time, I did, or at least I tried to numb the ache of it.

    Before I got sober, those moments of being overlooked were my biggest triggers. I’d reach for a glass of wine to dull the sting or pour vodka just to escape the sadness of feeling like a shadow in my own life. I thought alcohol made me stronger, more confident, less affected. But the truth is, it only made me smaller. It silenced me even more.

    Now, almost three years into sobriety, I notice everything more clearly, the subtle hurts, the dismissive words, the moments of being left out or unheard. It’s almost as if clarity is both a blessing and a burden. Sobriety has stripped away the fog, and with it, all the excuses I used to make for people who couldn’t or wouldn’t see me.

    One of my biggest struggles lately has been feeling unheard.

    I share my heart, sometimes vulnerably, sometimes boldly, and it’s often met with a polite nod, a quick hug, or silence. That silence used to send me spiraling. It still stings sometimes.

    But instead of drinking, I write.

    Instead of hiding, I share my story.

    And instead of numbing, I sit with it, all of it.

    Because when I share here, whether it’s on my blog or social media, I am heard. Maybe not by the people I hoped would listen, but by strangers who have become kindred spirits. People who are walking through the same pain, fighting the same battles, and craving the same healing.

    That’s the beauty of sobriety, it reconnects you to your truth. It helps you realize that you don’t need validation to be valuable, and you don’t need applause to have purpose.

    Drinking won’t make them hear you.

    It won’t make them understand your heart.

    It won’t turn the silence into support.

    It will only deepen the sadness you’re trying so hard to escape.

    Sobriety isn’t just about removing alcohol.. it’s about reclaiming yourself. It’s about facing the hard things instead of drowning them. It’s about learning to stand tall in your truth, even when no one claps, and realizing that being seen by yourself is the most powerful recognition of all.

    If you’re in that place, where you feel unseen, unheard, or unappreciated, please know this: you’re not alone. So many of us in recovery have walked that same road. We’ve learned that the silence of others doesn’t define our worth, and it doesn’t get to dim our light anymore.

    Keep shining, even when no one notices.

    Keep showing up, even when no one claps.

    You’re building a life where you finally see and hear yourself, and that’s the most beautiful sound of all.

  • The Things I Once Prayed For (And Sometimes Forget to See)

    There’s something sacred about looking around your life and realizing you’re living inside answered prayers.

    The home.

    The kids.

    The health.

    The steady love.

    The moments of peace you once thought you’d never feel.

    And yet… lately, I’ve been struggling. Not in a way that screams for help, but in that quiet, heavy way that makes you forget how far you’ve come.

    It’s not that I’m ungrateful — I am. I know how hard my husband has worked for this life. I know how much has changed. But mentally and emotionally, I’ve been going through a storm. There are days I feel lost in my own head, like I’m constantly searching for where I belong and if what I bring to the table is even seen.

    Motherhood is hard.

    Marriage is hard.

    Being a working mom is hard.

    Being a stay-at-home mom is hard.

    Trying to show up for everyone while figuring out who you are is hard.

    Lately, I’ve been diving deep into the Let Them theory by Mel Robbins — the idea that when you finally get through something big, your mind and body kind of crash. You let your guard down. You fall apart after the breakthrough.

    That hit me. Because that’s exactly where I’ve been.

    After years of pushing through survival mode, after getting sober, after building this beautiful life — I’m now sitting in the emotional release. And it’s confusing. Because why would I feel down when everything looks so good?

    But I get it now.

    It’s a letdown. A pause. A chance to process.

    Sobriety, too, has stripped away all the numbing I used to rely on. No more hiding behind a glass of wine. No more muting the shame or the self-doubt. I’m feeling everything now — and that’s powerful, but it’s also hard.

    The tears I used to cry.

    The prayers I used to whisper.

    They built the foundation of this life I’m standing in.

    I’m still healing.

    I’m still learning to love myself — especially the parts of me that I used to hide.

    And I’m still figuring out how to be proud of where I’ve been because it’s what made me the wife, mother, and hard-working woman I am today.

    Today I was listening to a podcast with Mel Robbins and Jay Shetty, and one thing really stood out:

    It’s okay to notice things in others — even to feel judgment or jealousy — but don’t let it harden you. Let it inspire you.

    That’s been a huge shift for me.

    Instead of letting someone else’s success make me feel “less than,” I’m learning to say: “If it’s possible for them, maybe it’s possible for me, too.”

    So here’s your reminder — and mine:

    You are allowed to be overwhelmed and still be grateful.

    You are allowed to grieve your past while celebrating your growth.

    You are allowed to feel it all.

    And you are never alone in that.

    The life you’re living now?

    You once prayed for it.

    Don’t forget to see it.

  • Sobriety, Lupus, and Debilitating Migraines: How I Cope Without Alcohol

    For years, I turned to alcohol to numb the pain. Whether it was the physical pain of lupus and migraines or the emotional exhaustion that came with it, drinking felt like my escape. It wasn’t just about having a drink at the end of the day—it was about quieting the discomfort, the overwhelming symptoms, and the mental toll of chronic illness. But what I didn’t realize then was that alcohol was making it all worse.

    The Vicious Cycle of Drinking with Chronic Illness

    When I was diagnosed with SLE Lupus, my body was already fighting a battle I didn’t fully understand. On top of that, I was experiencing debilitating migraines that would leave me in bed for days, unable to function. The pain was unbearable, the fatigue was relentless, and alcohol seemed like an easy way to “take the edge off.”

    What I didn’t see at the time was how alcohol was actually fueling the fire:
    ✔ Inflammation – Alcohol increases inflammation, which only worsened my lupus flare-ups.
    ✔ Dehydration – Migraines and lupus already left me exhausted, and alcohol only drained me more.
    ✔ Medication Interactions – I was on prescriptions for lupus, and mixing them with alcohol was dangerous.
    ✔ Emotional Toll – Drinking didn’t help me cope; it just masked the problem while making me feel worse the next day.

    I was stuck in a cycle of drinking to escape the pain, only to wake up feeling even sicker. And for years, I ignored the signs.

    Choosing Sobriety: A Wake-Up Call

    My turning point came when my health started to spiral. I was dealing with potential lupus nephritis, and the thought of permanent kidney damage was terrifying. I had to make a choice: continue drinking and risk my health even more, or commit to something better—for myself, for my family, and for my future.

    I chose sobriety. And it changed everything.

    How I Cope Without Alcohol

    Choosing sobriety didn’t make my lupus or migraines disappear, but it gave me something I had never truly had before—clarity, stability, and real healing. Here’s what has helped me manage the pain without alcohol:

    1. Hydration & Nutrition

    I focus on hydration like it’s my full-time job—water, electrolytes, and herbal teas that help reduce inflammation. My diet is high-protein, low-carb, and anti-inflammatory, which has made a huge difference in managing my symptoms.

    2. Faith & Prayer

    Instead of reaching for a drink when I’m struggling, I lean into prayer, worship, and God’s Word. My faith has become my strongest anchor in sobriety, reminding me that I am never alone in my struggles.

    3. Natural Pain Management

    • Magnesium & Electrolytes – Helps prevent migraines and ease muscle pain.
    • Essential Oils (Peppermint & Lavender) – I use these for migraines instead of alcohol or medication overload.
    • Cold Compress & Dark Room – Simple but effective when a migraine hits hard.
    • Gentle Movement & Sunlight – Even short walks or stretching help reduce inflammation and clear my head.

    4. Community & Support

    Sobriety and chronic illness can both feel isolating, but I’ve found strength in connecting with others who understand. Whether through faith-based sobriety groups, online communities, or close friendships, surrounding myself with support has been a game-changer.

    5. Mindset Shift

    For years, I believed alcohol was my only escape. Now, I see it for what it truly was—a temporary band-aid that was only making things worse. Today, I choose to focus on healing, not hiding. I remind myself daily that my body deserves care, not punishment.

    Living Free from Alcohol & Embracing Healing

    I won’t pretend that sobriety has made life easy—lupus is still a daily battle, and migraines still come and go. But now, I have the strength to face them, rather than drowning in alcohol and waking up feeling worse.

    Sobriety has given me my life back. It has allowed me to be fully present for my family, to care for my body in a way I never did before, and to wake up each morning knowing I am walking in healing—not destruction.

    If you’re struggling with chronic illness and using alcohol to cope, I want you to know this: You are stronger than you think. You deserve real healing. And you don’t have to do this alone.

    Have you struggled with sobriety and chronic illness? I’d love to hear your story. Drop a comment below or send me a message—I’m here to support you. 💜