What’s the Point? The Struggle for Belonging After Recovery

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By Malcolm Pannell | FaceThyFear®

Disclaimer: The content in this article is based on personal experiences and opinions. It is not intended as medical, psychological, or professional advice. If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction or mental health challenges, please seek professional help. Resources for recovery can be found at www.Facethyfear.com (https://www.facethyfear.com).

The Loneliness of Sobriety

Nobody tells you how lonely sobriety can be.

They tell you about the healing. About the newfound clarity. About how life is supposed to get better once you put the bottle down. And in some ways, that’s true. Your body recovers. Your mind sharpens. You stop waking up with regret sitting on your chest like a heavyweight belt.

But nobody tells you that getting sober doesn’t come with a manual. That just because you got better doesn’t mean everything else did.

And when the world slows down at night, when everything gets quiet, that’s when the thoughts creep in.

“What’s the point?”

“Yeah, you’re sober, but your family is still a mess.”

“You’re starting from scratch in your career, no blueprint, no guide.”

“Nobody taught you how to do this. You’re just winging it.”

“You’re gonna fail.”

I know these thoughts aren’t real. I know they come from old wounds, from years of feeling lost. But when they hit, they hit hard.

Walking Into the Room

I still remember my first AA meeting.

Nervous as hell, sitting in a chair that felt too stiff, surrounded by people who all seemed to know each other. I listened. I nodded when I was supposed to. I knew the script.

“Keep coming back.”

“One day at a time.”

“It works if you work it.”

And I believed it. AA and NA helped save my life. But there was this undercurrent, this feeling I couldn’t quite shake.

Most of the time, I’m the only Black person in the room.

And let me be clear—I never felt unwelcome. The people there are good people, solid people. I was welcomed with open arms. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t different.

Because my rock bottom didn’t look like theirs. My upbringing wasn’t the same.

I talk about growing up in Southwest Atlanta, about the pressure to be strong, about how addiction doesn’t just wreck you—it wrecks generations. And I get nods, I get support. But do they get it? Do they know what it’s like to come from a culture where men don’t talk about their pain? Where you’re expected to carry the weight of the world, even when it’s breaking you?

Do they know what it’s like to leave Atlanta—where Black excellence, culture, and diversity are everywhere—and move to Savannah, where the energy is different? Where I look around and realize I have to prove I belong in every room I walk into?

Recovery is already hard. But fighting for belonging while you’re doing it? That’s something else entirely.

The Search for Belonging

That’s what makes those late-night thoughts so dangerous.

Because even when you’re doing everything right—staying sober, going to meetings, working on yourself—there’s still that gap.

Family is still fractured.

Career is still uncertain.

Relationships? No blueprint.

And even in places meant for healing, I still feel like an outsider sometimes.

That’s when the thoughts hit the hardest.

That’s when I start wondering if I’m just fooling myself. If I’m trying to build something out of nothing.

But here’s the thing—I keep going.

Because what’s the alternative?

I used to drown those thoughts in a bottle, and where did that get me? Liver failure. Isolation. A version of myself I don’t ever want to see again.

Now, when those thoughts creep in, I fight back.

My Recovery Tool Kit: Fighting Back When the Thoughts Creep In

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in AA and NA is that I don’t have to sit with those thoughts alone. I was given a recovery tool kit—things I can actually do when my mind starts racing, when doubt and fear try to take over.

Here’s what’s in mine:

• Prayer. Even when I don’t have the words, even when I’m frustrated with God, I pray. Because I know He’s the reason I’m still here.

• Hydration. It sounds small, but drinking water helps. When my body is taken care of, my mind follows.

• Cooking a meal. Something about preparing food, putting care into it, slows my mind down and grounds me in the present.

• Writing it down. This has been a game-changer. I used to let my thoughts run wild, but now, I put them on paper. When I see them written out, they lose some of their power.

And most importantly—I keep coming back.

Even when I don’t feel like it, even when the thoughts tell me I don’t belong, I show up. Because I know I’m not alone in this. There are people out there who understand. And if I can help just one person by sharing this, if I can make just one person feel seen, then that’s the point.

To Anyone Struggling With Late-Night Thoughts

If you’re out there right now, struggling with these same thoughts, wondering if you’re good enough, if you belong, if you’re going to make it—just know this:

You don’t have to fight it alone.

Build your own recovery tool kit. Find what works for you. And most of all—keep showing up.

Because the point isn’t to have all the answers. The point is to keep fighting for them.

You belong here. You always did.

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Resources for Recovery

If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, help is available:

• Alcoholics Anonymous (AA): www.aa.org (https://www.aa.org)

• Narcotics Anonymous (NA): www.na.org (https://www.na.org)

• SAMHSA Helpline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

You’re not alone. Keep fighting. Keep going.