Six years ago, I stepped into rehab for the first time in what would become a long journey toward recovery from alcoholism. I looked around at the people in that room and immediately thought to myself, “I don’t belong here. I’m not like these people.”
Despite the undeniable struggles with addiction and the poor decisions that had brought me there, I refused to accept that I was just like everyone else in that room. My pride convinced me that I was somehow different—better. I went through the motions, did my time, and left.
But it didn’t take long for me to fall right back into the bottle.
Why?
Because I had failed to do the most important thing—I didn’t look in the mirror. I didn’t face the hard truths about myself. I chose denial over self-awareness, pride over humility, and resistance over the willingness to learn and grow. I wasn’t ready to change because I hadn’t taken responsibility for who I was and what I needed to heal.
Eventually, I found myself right back in rehab.
This time, I walked in expecting to see the same familiar faces—the same “fuck-ups” I had judged before. But to my surprise, not a single person I had met during my first stay was there. That realization hit me hard. My ego took a serious blow. It was a humbling moment, and one I desperately needed.
It was then that I understood: my pride had been the biggest barrier to real recovery.
This time, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. I opened my heart and mind. I made a conscious choice to get to know my fellow patients, and I was stunned by what I found. The people I had so harshly judged before were, in fact, some of the most incredible, resilient, and kind-hearted humans I had ever met. They weren’t hopeless—they were hurting. Just like me.
That shift—from judgment to connection, from pride to humility, from denial to self-awareness—was the beginning of real change.
When I left rehab the second time, I was reborn. I was finally equipped not just to fight my addiction, but to face it head-on with honesty and clarity. The truth is, I still relapsed after that. But each time, I got back up. I kept learning. I stayed humble.
And I never gave up.
Today, I’ve been sober for five years. Not because I’m perfect—but because I finally became willing to grow, to listen, to learn, and to lead with humility. Recovery is not a straight line, but self-awareness and the courage to keep going made all the difference.