If your a member today you just got an upgrade! Everyone is now a VIP level member!!!! This means your locked in, and have EVERYTHING available to you now!!!! Happy Friday Everyone @Ada Draedan @Adam Storey @Amanda Lundberg @Angela Sivertsen @Ashleigh Kinney @Mark Ater @Bobby Ford @Dawn Brost @Kate B Stallion @Saint Blue @Cecilia Dora @Chantal Morgan @Char LaRose @Cheryl Issa @Crystal Fleming @Chris MacBlane @Teresa Turner @Karen Hamilton @Deborah E @Michael Hewitt @Rasaan Younkins @Jessica Drapluk @Jon Olson @Keven Mahner @Sarah Prokop @Rebecca Pask @GalaxyonKnowledge Yogesh @Glanzer Mar @David Tallier @Darnell Freas @Rose Wolf @Elizabeth Woods @Sam Lies @Melissa Lawrence

At some point, helping stops feeling noble and starts feeling like you’re disappearing. I’ve talked to so many people—caretakers, nurses, parents, counselors, friends, people in recovery of all kinds—who woke up one day and realized they had no idea who they were outside the roles they filled for everyone else. Have you ever lost sight of who you are because you were too busy holding everyone else up? Tell us: What was your breaking point? And did you find a way back to yourself, or are you still searching? This is the place for the messy middle. Drop your story, and let’s help each other remember there’s life outside the job, the role, the label.

Let’s get brutally honest: nobody wakes up excited to start over. Sometimes life knocks you on your ass so hard, you don’t even remember how to stand up. But you know what? Every time you choose “Day One” instead of “I quit,” you’re telling the universe it doesn’t get to write your story. Not today. Not ever. 🥾✨ Day one in recovery, day one after relapse, day one after heartbreak, day one after you swore you’d never have to do this again… it all counts. It’s not weakness, it’s rebellion. It’s a giant middle finger to shame, guilt, and everyone who ever said you wouldn’t make it. 🖕🔥 I want to hear from my fellow “day one-ers”—what’s something you had to start over with (big or small)? What did your “day one” look like? Did you hate it? Did you surprise yourself? Drop your story below, or just type “Day One” if you’re in it right now and want a little crew to cheer you on. And remember, you don’t have to do this alone. If you need backup, the Progress Is Progress community is wide open, and my DMs are always safe. 💌 Today’s challenge:Share your “day one” or a reset you’re proud of—let’s show the world what real courage looks like. Your story could be someone else’s lifeline. Ready? Hit the comments and let’s get loud. 👇🚀

Shoutout to every single badass who’s joined this tribe. 68 people, 68 stories, 68 warriors showing up raw, real, and unfiltered. This isn’t some cookie-cutter recovery group — this is your no-BS zone. Where progress is progress, no matter how messy. We’re here to break down walls, shatter shame, and lift each other up when the world tries to knock us down. Whether you’re fighting your own battles, supporting someone else, or just hungry for honest connection—this is where you belong. And hey, don’t forget about the FREE 7-Day Messy Progress Challenge! It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s designed to kickstart your comeback with zero judgment. If you haven’t jumped in yet, what are you waiting for? So, what’s next? More real talk, more wins (even the ugly ones), and more community that actually gets it. Drop a comment and let us know what YOU want to see more of. More tough love? More celebrations? More tools? This is our space — let’s build it loud and proud. If you’re still on the fence, this is your sign: come kick it with us. No judgment. All heart. All hustle. Here’s to the 68 and counting. Let’s keep this fire burning. 🔥🔥🔥 ProgressIsProgress #SkoolCommunity #NoBSRecovery #WeGotThis

From Progress is Progress on Substack..... I get a really "cool" new scar! Belinda (Belle) Morey Feb 17, 2026 Nobody puts “12 hours in the ER, transfer by ambulance, and emergency hernia surgery” on their Sunday bucket list. But life isn’t interested in your plans. Instead, it tosses you into the fluorescent, sterile world of the hospital, shoves you into a paper gown, and strips you of every illusion of control you thought you had. The Hospital: Cold Floors, Grippy Socks, and the Smell of Disinfectant Let’s get real about the hospital. The air tastes like bleach and plastic. The floor is so cold your toes curl, but you’re issued those ridiculous grippy socks—bright yellow, like a warning sign for “fall risk.” Every surface is hard or sticky or both. The bed is supposed to help you heal, but no matter how you mash the buttons, you can’t get comfortable. You ask for more pillows, which helps for about 20 minutes. The sheets are scratchy. There’s always a faint beeping somewhere, and the hallway light slices under the door even when you try to cocoon. And the indignity. The hospital gown hangs off you like a surrender flag. More people saw my ass in 36 hours than in the last 15 years—maybe in my whole adult life. If you need to pee, you have to call someone, and then they stand there like a prison guard while you try to pretend this is normal. There are straws in weird little cups that taste faintly of sanitizer, and every time you move, an IV line tugs at your arm. The silence is loud, and the noise is even louder. The scariest part? The back-and-forth in your head. What if this is something worse? What if they missed something? What if my body never feels normal again? The ambulance ride is a bouncing, uncertain blur, every pothole a reminder that you’re not in control—of the ride, of your body, of anything. When Your Body Puts on the Brakes (and Why It Does) Here’s the truth nobody wants to hear: if you run yourself ragged long enough, your body will stop you. I’m always the one in motion—work, family, projects, helping others. I don’t just dislike slowing down; I resent it. But the human body isn’t built for endless hustle. Stress, lack of rest, pushing through warning signs—your nervous system keeps the score. Cortisol goes up. Your immune system tanks. Inflammation builds. Old injuries flare. New ones sneak in. Eventually, something breaks: your mind, your gut, your heart, or in my case, a chunk of muscle wall that decided it was done holding up the show.