Christmas Without the Crash

facethyfear
Dec 26, 2025
7 min read

I didn’t plan on writing a Christmas article.

But I wanted to.

Not because I’m trying to preach. Not because I’m trying to turn everything into a “recovery post.” This is just life. This is what my holiday looked like. This is what it felt like. And if you’ve ever had seasons where the holidays hit your mental health—or your bank account—or your relationships—then you already know why moments like this matter.

Christmas Eve started with me in a grapefruit tree

Christmas Eve I was on Whitemarsh Island, climbing up a grapefruit tree like I was a kid again for a second. Big yellow fruit hanging heavy, branches scratching my arms, and me up there thinking, look at me… I’m really doing this.

I harvested that grapefruit only hours before we sat down later that night.

And when my Uncle Hiram Barlow came down to spend Christmas with me and my wife—and he came with my mother—I shared that grapefruit with my uncle on Christmas Eve. That detail matters to me. I climbed up, picked it, brought it home, and handed it to him like, here—this is from me.

It sounds small if you don’t know what it’s like to rebuild a life. But I used to show up empty. Used to show up with excuses. Used to show up with chaos.

This year I showed up with fruit in my hands.

Love pulled up from Orlando in a box

My cousin Craig Lewis, who lives in Orlando, sent me and my wife a cake in the mail: Boston Coffee Cake (Cinnamon Walnut).

And I’m not even gonna lie—it felt like more than dessert. It felt like somebody reaching across miles just to say, I’m thinking about you.

If Craig told me the deeper story behind this particular cake, I’ll let him share that one day. That’s his story. Just know it comes from his soul and roots.

Craig was also at my wedding. He drove all the way up from Orlando in his Mini Cooper just to show love. That’s family. That’s effort. That’s real.

And I already know he started something—because next year I want to be ordering cakes for people too. I want to pass that feeling forward.

Christmas Eve dinner and a porch that felt like home

That night I cooked chicken, rice, and peas. We ate, we talked, and we cut into that cinnamon walnut cake like it was part of the plan all along.

After dinner, the pace slowed down.

Me and my wife sat on the porch with the hookah. Inside, my mother was in the living room watching TV, comfortable. My uncle sat outside with us and shared stories.

My uncle is in recovery too—but it’s not my business to tell his story. That’s his to share. Just know we’re in it together.

And Mr. Meow Meow was right in the mix, loving on everybody like he pays rent.

There was a time when Christmas Eve meant I was about to disappear into a different version of myself. This year, Christmas Eve was calm. It was laughter. It was real conversation. It was peace without a crash behind it.

Midnight gifts… then more gifts

Truth is, we opened presents at midnight on Christmas Eve. So we started then—and it kept going. Gifts got opened at midnight, gifts got opened on Christmas morning, and gifts got opened throughout the day.

Gift bussin’.

And what made it hit different is this: this was the first time in a long time I was actually able to afford to get everybody in my family a gift. I’m not saying that to flex. I’m saying it because I remember the opposite. I remember not having money during the holidays. I remember feeling shattered inside—like I was failing people just by existing.

So being able to bless the people I love felt like something finally clicked into place.

And next year is going to be even better.

Christmas morning smelled like a new life

Christmas morning I made fresh-ground coffee in the French press. I baked croissants. Made cheese eggs, turkey bacon, pork sausage, grits, and them little Hillshire Farm Smokies too.

And I’ll tell you the secret: part of the reason my Christmas cheese grits hit like that is because I used pesto. That’s the cheat code. It gives the grits that rich, herby, savory punch that makes people pause like, hold up… what is this?

Then I brought out that grapefruit I had harvested hours before. Again—small detail, but it mattered. Because it was mine. It was fresh. It was real. It was me showing up with something good.

Tybee Island and dolphins in the waves

The whole day was in the high 60s to mid 70s—one of those rare Georgia Christmases where winter doesn’t feel like punishment.

We went to Tybee Island, walked down the beach, talked, and looked for seashells. And then we saw dolphins playing in the waves like they were showing off.

We drew our names in the sand.

That’s one of those moments you don’t plan—but it sticks to you. The kind that makes you realize you’re building memories you’ll actually want to remember.

The table got bigger at my mother-in-law’s house

Later we went to my mother-in-law’s house and she did what mothers do when they love you.

She prepared greens, rice, macaroni and cheese, turkey, and yams. She also made a sweet potato pie.

I was thinking about eating that pie later… but I ended up eating more of that cinnamon walnut cake again.

I’m just being honest.

And honestly, I’d rather have my “extra” be cake than the old extras I used to chase.

Some of us made it home—and some didn’t

Even with all that warmth around me, I couldn’t ignore another truth.

I’ve got associates—people I know, people I came up around—who are in prison or jail right now. They’re not coming home for the holidays.

That sits on my spirit. Because I know how close I was to that life swallowing me whole. I know how fast one season can turn into years.

So if you’re locked up, or if you love somebody who’s locked up, I’m praying for you. I’m praying you don’t forget your worth. I’m praying you get another chance to sit at a table, laugh again, and feel normal again. And I’m praying for the families missing someone this season too—because an empty chair changes the whole room.

The little upgrades that tell the truth

This holiday season I finally upgraded my phone. I also got an Apple Watch to track my fitness.

And I laughed because I remember years ago I walked around with a cracked phone screen like it was normal. These days I cringe when I see cracked screens. I’m on Amazon right now buying screen protectors… lol.

It’s not about being flashy. It’s about self-respect. It’s about how your standards change when your life changes. Little decisions like that add up. They turn into momentum.

My mama was comfortable

One of my favorite moments was simple.

My mother got to watch her YouTube videos on a big screen in my living room.

And I sat there thinking: I’m going to get her a new TV one day.

Not to show off.

Just because she deserves ease.

From filling a role to building my own family

I think about the past sometimes. I remember being in a relationship where I felt like I was filling a position that belonged to somebody else. I dated a woman who was separated with kids. I’m not speaking ill about her or that family—if anything, I’m sure I scarred them with my alcoholism and heavy drug use. That’s mine to own.

But now I have my own family, and it feels good.

I’ve wanted to be a husband ever since I was a boy. And being a husband now doesn’t feel like a fantasy. It feels like real responsibility—and real purpose.

The numbers don’t lie, but this isn’t just about numbers

On Christmas I was 1,133 days sober from Liqesha™, and it had been 1,301 days since I broke up with Snowbella™.

I don’t say that to brag. I say it because I remember the old Christmases too.

I used to be up all night on Christmas Eve doing cocaine. Then the sun would come up on Christmas and I’d still be going—drinking and doing more cocaine trying to keep the feeling alive. And after a while, you get paranoid. You don’t want to be social. You start withdrawing. You start feeling weird in your own skin.

That’s the part addiction never posts.

So yeah—this year mattered. Because there was no crash waiting on me after the pictures. My joy didn’t come with a price tag later.

What I learned after this holiday season

After this holiday season, I came to the conclusion that I want to make the holidays festive for everyone around me.

You only live once.

Believe in Christmas or don’t—this season carries a certain kind of positive energy. People soften up. People reach out. People try again.

And if you know then you know.

So going forward, I want to be part of the warmth. I want to be the reason somebody feels included. Cakes in the mail. Meals on the table. Lights up. Music on. Gifts wrapped. A house where people feel safe to just be human.

Because I remember what it felt like to be shattered inside during the holidays.

I’m done surviving December.

I told life I ain’t come here to play.

FTF Proof™

FTF Tip of the Day (From This Christmas)

Make the moment on purpose.

This whole holiday wasn’t built off a “perfect life.” It was built off small choices: climb the tree, bring the grapefruit, cook the breakfast, take the beach walk, sit on the porch, let people feel welcome, and don’t disappear.

That’s the lesson: peace is planned.

You don’t wait on a good day—you stack one.

Thought to Consider:

If you want next year to feel different, do one thing today that tomorrow-you will thank you for.

FTF Reminder:

The opposite of relapse isn’t just sobriety—it’s presence.

AACRONYMS — F E A R:

Frustration, Ego, Anxiety, Resentment