What I Didn’t Know About Recovery (Until It Saved My Life)

By Malcolm Pannell | FaceThyFear.com

Copyright 2025 – All rights reserved

Track to jam to while reading

I didn’t come to recovery to be saved.

I came because I was dying.

Quietly. Slowly. Daily.

Not from a bullet. Not from a crash.

But from a bottle I couldn’t stop lifting, and a high I couldn’t outrun.

If I didn’t drink, I shook like hell.

If I did, I threw up everything—including my hope.

I was stuck between two poisons.

One slow. One fast. Both trying to bury me.

Boca: The First Cry for Help

On June 2, 2022, I checked into Boca Recovery Center in Pompano Beach.

It was clean. Structured. The people were kind.

That was the first time I said it out loud:

“I need help.”

I went in for cocaine. Thought I was finally in the right place.

But my insurance ran out before I could finish inpatient.

I left early—clear-headed just long enough to feel the weight of my mess.

No plan. No sponsor. Just a suitcase and a stomach full of fear.

Nashville: The Warning Shot

Weeks later, I was in Nashville, behind the wheel of a car I shouldn’t have been driving.

Sweating. Shaking. Spinning.

I tried to drink just enough to stop the tremors.

Instead, I choked, gagged, and swerved—almost hitting another car.

That wasn’t a close call.

That was death knocking.

And it told me:

If I didn’t stop, I wouldn’t just lose myself—I’d take someone with me.

Savannah: Where I Stopped Running

I moved to Savannah. New city. Same demons.

I went 29 and a half days clean. Took a chip.

Smiled like I earned it.

But I relapsed not long after.

That chip felt like a receipt for a lie.

But it also became a mirror.

In November 2022, I checked into a recovery center in Savannah.

Not for a fresh start—but a real one.

That’s where I met Agent Mr. 7.

Seven years sober. Spoke in meetings with no ego, just realness.

He made me laugh when I didn’t want to smile.

And every morning, after I prayed, I’d check my phone and find a message from him.

Short. Direct. Something like:

“You’re still here. Keep going.”

That presence saved me more than he knows.

This Is What Recovery Really Looks Like

It ain’t some peaceful mountaintop moment.

It’s loud. Ugly. Lonely.

It’s waking up in sweat and piss and still choosing to stay clean.

It’s crying during step work and not wiping your tears.

It’s walking past the liquor aisle like it’s haunted—and you’re the only one who knows what’s inside.

Recovery ain’t about just staying clean.

It’s about becoming someone you don’t have to run from.

Rooted: What Sobriety Looks Like Today

I’ve been clean from cocaine for almost 3 years.

Sober from alcohol for 2 and a half.

I still feel it—the ache around the holidays, the sting of family silence.

My mom’s side is scattered. My dad’s side is distant.

I used to drink just to forget the quiet.

Now?

I plant dahlia flowers in silence and listen to God.

I water bell peppers and check ribs on the grill like they’re sacred.

I write these words with dirty hands and a clean heart.

I’m not running anymore.

I’m rooted.

If You’ve Never Heard About Recovery—This Is Your Invitation

Nobody told me this was an option.

That peace was a process.

That you could survive your own destruction.

So let me be the first:

You don’t need to crash a car to change your life.

You don’t need perfect insurance or a church background.

You just need to be tired.

Tired of dying one drink, one lie, one relapse at a time.

Recovery is possible.

I didn’t think I deserved it.

But I stepped in anyway. And I’m still here.

I hope you make it out alive.

And if you do—stay.

Prayer of Saint Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

[Copyright 2025 – FaceThyFear.com | Malcolm Pannell]

Email: facethyfear@gmail.com

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