6 months sober. Half a year without alcohol. And the past? It won’t shut the hell up. Every beat, every threat, every violation I buried under booze and survival mode comes roaring back. I was just a kid, trapped, terrified, powerless. And now, sober, it hits me full force.

I was blessed with my oldest child from that life — my brightest, most stubborn piece of me — and I wouldn’t change her for the world. But I wish I had been a better mother then. I was drowning in my own fear and trauma, and too often she felt the weight of my anger and resentment. All I can do now is show up, raw, trembling, alive, and try to make it right.

Bars on every corner. Alcohol shoved in my face everywhere I turn. Memories whispering, “Just one won’t hurt.” Tempting. Familiar. Dangerous. And yet… I’m still here. Sober. Shaking. Breathing. Fighting. Surviving.

Life right now feels like a steel cage match — parenting battles, marriage tension, family grief, work stress, health scares, and cravings that nearly broke me. At 4.5 months sober, I could taste the Patron this weekend, feel it burn down my throat in my imagination — and it almost had me. But Jesus and my sponsor — my tag team partners — pulled me up off the floor, literally and figuratively, and reminded me that Patron is a liar. In the middle of pain, setbacks, and scars, I’m still standing. Still sober. Still in the fight.

Ninety days sober. Three months of battling every craving, every trigger, and every doubt. Some days I’m on fire for Jesus; some days I’m barely holding on. The pain is real—missing church for the first time, migraines that leave me feeling trapped in my own body, and facing my biggest triggers head-on like concerts and the fair. But through it all, Jesus is my strength, my hope, and my lifeline. I don’t have all the answers yet. I don’t feel relief yet. But I’m still fighting, still leaning on Him, and still moving forward—one day at a time.

I forgot my own name the moment I stepped into the water. Eleven weeks sober, and something in me died right there—on purpose. What rose up was someone I’d never met before. Someone free. Someone fierce. This isn’t just a story about addiction or baptism. It’s about a God who burns through the shadows and builds something holy out of wreckage. And I can’t keep quiet about it.

As I reach nine weeks of sobriety, I reflect on the emotional ups and downs of this journey. I’ve lost friends who thrived on chaos, and relationships have shifted, leaving me feeling distant, especially during date nights when my partner still drinks. I worry he sees me differently now, but through it all, I feel Jesus guiding me.

This journey is about more than quitting alcohol; it’s about rebuilding my identity and embracing challenges. My worth is rooted in the love I’ve found in Him. Join me as I navigate this path of healing and resilience.

Six Weeks Sober: Rock Bottom and Rising

Six weeks sober. Every craving slammed shut. At a Wynonna Judd concert, her words hit hard:
“When you hit rock bottom, you’ve got two ways to go—straight up or sideways.”
I chose to go straight up—and I’m not stopping.

Surrounded by drinkers, I gripped my water bottle like armor. Then, bam—our seats got upgraded. No coincidence. A clear nod from the Holy Spirit telling me I’m on the right path.

The fight’s brutal and real, but with Jesus by my side, I’m standing firm. Six weeks isn’t just a number—it’s a resurrection. And I’m just getting started.

This isn’t a rock-bottom sob story. It’s a redemption-in-progress. I didn’t quit drinking because someone begged me to—I quit because I saw the destruction ahead and finally said, “No more.” Sobriety isn’t just about staying dry; it’s about staying awake. It’s about breaking generational chains with Jesus at my side, one brutal, beautiful day at a time. I’m not healed—I’m healing. Not perfect—but present. And that presence? It’s the start of a legacy that doesn’t end in silence. It ends in light.

When life throws down the gauntlet, I step into the ring ready to fight. My journey isn’t just a story; it’s a full-on wrestling match where faith becomes my secret weapon. Each day is a brutal round, packed with triumphs, gut-wrenching betrayals, and the relentless grind of self-doubt. I’ve battled demons of anxiety and depression, and at times, it felt like I was pinned to the mat, gasping for air.

But here’s the twist: I’m not in this alone. Jesus is my forever tag team partner, always at the edge of the ring, waiting for me to tag Him in. Together, we’re ready to take on whatever chaos life throws our way. This journey is about more than just survival; it’s about rising from the ashes, reclaiming my power, and flipping the script on my struggles.

Join me as I dive into the raw, unfiltered truth of my battles, the moments that nearly took me out, and the fierce comebacks that define me. We’ll embrace the chaos, unleash our inner warriors, and turn pain into purpose. It’s time to rise, fight back, and show the world that we’re not just surviving—we’re thriving. Let’s get in this fight together!

Excerpt:

January has been a whirlwind, and I’ll admit—I didn’t stick to all the goals I set for myself. Those journal prompts? Barely touched. My health? A rollercoaster of feast-or-famine eating and couch marathons instead of workouts. But here’s the thing: I’m not striving for perfection, just progress.

With February and my 45th birthday around the corner, I’m turning the page. My focus is on small wins—moving my body daily, finding balance with food instead of extremes, and giving myself grace when I fall short. Life’s messy, but as Psalm 46:1 reminds me, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”

Let’s embrace the chaos, find grace in the imperfections, and keep showing up for ourselves this February—one messy, honest step at a time.