Loneliness and Growth: Facing the Challenges of a Sober Life

Disclaimer:

This post discusses personal experiences with mental health, recovery, and references to music that some readers may find triggering. Please read with discretion. If you or someone you know is struggling, reach out to a professional or a trusted support network.

Loneliness and Growth: Facing the Challenges of a Sober Life

When I decided to quit drugs and alcohol, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. The old saying, “Change people, places, and things,” became my mantra. I moved to a new city, left behind old habits, and started over. But starting over doesn’t mean the feelings disappear—it’s just a new chapter with its own challenges.

Lately, I’ve been feeling lonely. It’s not depression, at least I don’t think it is, but it’s this nagging sense of isolation. I’ve realized I’m one of the only people in my circles who made this choice to get clean and stay sober. That’s a tough pill to swallow. I’ve gone to meetings for years now, and while Alcoholics Anonymous has been a lifeline, not every group resonates with me. I take the meat and spit out the bones, but sometimes that’s not enough to fill the void.

On top of that, I’m back in college after not finishing the first time. It’s a big step forward, but it comes with its own challenges. Looking back, I think part of why I struggled the first time was because I didn’t know how to process my parents’ divorce. They split up when I was too young to even remember it, and it was easy to not address those feelings when the family was fighting. I guess I carried that confusion and pain with me into adulthood, and it only got worse when I turned to drugs and alcohol to cope.

Now, anxiety creeps in, especially when I think about how different my life is compared to the way it used to be. Back then, it was easy to numb my brain, to drown out the loneliness with a drink or a high. Now, I face it head-on. I’m not going to drink or use, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Sometimes it feels overwhelming, even with the tools I’ve learned.

But here’s the thing: I’m a shark. I adapt. I’ve been through hella shit—ten toes down in the trenches, surviving gang violence, somehow never overdosing, and driving blackout like I got tinted windows. I’ve survived what should’ve taken me out a thousand times over. I didn’t come this far just to fall apart now. I wear this sterling silver FTF chain and my shark jaw chain because they remind me of exactly who I am. They’re my armor, my statement to the world: I got this.

I’m also in a relationship, going on two years now, and it’s the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had. In my mind, I’ve always been ready for marriage, but it wasn’t until I got my life together that God brought me a woman who loves, respects, and supports me wholeheartedly. I’m grateful for the love and stability we share, yet I still feel a void sometimes. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, especially since I have a good relationship with God as well. Maybe it’s just part of the process—learning to sit with the emptiness and not try to fill it with anything unhealthy.

Right now, as I write this, I’m listening to Meet Mr. Nice Guy by $uicideboy$. If you know me or my journey, you might think, “Why is someone in recovery listening to something like that?” Shouldn’t I stick to uplifting music? But here’s the thing: this song takes me back—not in a way that pulls me down, but in a way that reminds me of how far I’ve come.

I used to be in such a dark place, battling depression and suicidal thoughts. I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t want to die. I just want to live better every day, to learn from my mistakes and grow. It’s incredible to realize that the problems I once thought were insurmountable now seem smaller as I sit here and face them head-on.

This is why I’m writing this. Maybe someone out there feels like their problems are too big, like they’ll never get through them. But I promise, you’re not the only one. You’re not alone. Things get better—not always overnight, but with time, effort, and a willingness to face your feelings, they do.

If you’ve ever felt this way, know that it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. You don’t have to numb it, and you don’t have to let it define you. You’re stronger than you think, and your problems aren’t as big as they seem when you start to face them, one step at a time.

For me, I remind myself that this feeling is temporary. It’s part of the process, and each day I face it is a day I win. So if you’re out there, pushing through, keep going. Reach out, talk to someone, find what helps—even if it’s just sharing your feelings like I’m doing now.

We’re in this together, even when it feels like we’re not.

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