All Natural Dopamine

FTF Garden Journal – April 21, 2025

By Malcolm FTF

I clocked in at 7:30 AM.

It was a steady day—nothing too crazy, just HVAC work under the Savannah sun.

By 4:00 PM, I was free.

No plans. No parties. No bar stops.

Just home—and the quiet promise of my plants waiting on me.

I dropped my bag inside and walked straight to the garden center.

The hose was warm in my hand, sun still riding low in the sky.

As I watered each pot, the basil gave off its scent—sharp, sweet, familiar.

The Chocolate Beauty pepper plant was rising through the cinder block like it had something to prove.

I found a little blue egg nestled near the base of one of the trays—fragile, hidden, untouched.

I took it as a sign: even in silence, life is happening.

I’m drying dahlia seeds for harvest now.

Over 50 new ones are germinating in plastic pots, little green prayers unfolding toward the light.

These aren’t just flowers—they’re my second chances. My sober legacy. My reminder that recovery isn’t loud—it’s rooted.

And then there’s the cat.

Posted up by the window, watching me like he’s security for my peace.

He’s seen the old me. He knows this version don’t come easy.

I used to grieve my childhood friendships.

I used to get depressed wondering why they didn’t want me around anymore.

But after six months of real, intense therapy, I finally saw the truth:

I was a terrible friend.

Selfish. Manipulative.

I brought drugs into their lives.

I brought chaos.

I didn’t realize it then—but I was the danger in the room.

I was the drugs.

I’ve lost people.

But I’ve gained peace.

And that’s a trade I can live with.

By 8:38 PM, I was on the couch.

Praying.

Thanking God for this day. For this life. For this couch.

A plate of grilled meat and seasoned rice in front of me.

My cat asleep beside me.

Murder mystery humming on the TV, but no chaos in my chest.

Just stillness.

No coke.

No liquor.

No fiending.

Just me, fed and free.

Sometimes I wonder if writing this blog even matters.

If anyone cares.

If anyone’s reading.

But then I remember the man I used to be.

Hopeless. Addicted. Broken.

I never thought I’d feel peace like this.

It’s not perfect.

But it’s good.

Way better than it used to be.

If you’re where I was—

Just keep showing up.

Water something.

Pray.

And don’t stop.

There’s life waiting to bloom.

This is all natural dopamine.

This is real recovery.

This is FTF.

—Malcolm FTF

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