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Sobriety you can actually use — from someone who lived it twice. I'm Anthony. I got sober in 2015, relapsed after 7.5 years, and rebuilt from zero. Now I'm an addiction counsellor-in-training sharing what actually works in recovery — not theory, real tools. Every episode covers the real struggles of staying sober: emotional sobriety, relapse prevention, identity, people-pleasing, shame, trauma, mental health, and the messy middle nobody talks about. If you're newly sober, years in, or supporting someone you love — this is your space. New episodes every week. Follow so you never miss one.
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Everybody hands you a journal in early recovery and says "use it" — nobody tells you what to do with it. So this episode is the missing manual: six journaling techniques (plus a bonus), what each one is actually for, and what the evidence does and doesn't back up. This isn't "dear diary." Different methods do different jobs, and matching the technique to the day is the whole game. Bottom line: journaling is a tool, not a cure. The research is modest and mixed, not miraculous. It works with your program, not instead of it — and if writing about the hard stuff cracks open something you can't hold, that's the signal to reach for a person, not just a pen. Peer to peer, one alcoholic addict's experience — not medical or clinical advice. JOIN ME ON MY SOCIALS - FREE RECOVERY GUIDE AND RECOVERY COACHING https://linktr.ee/Recoveringoutloudpod — Anthony
How addiction treatment went from moral failing to disease to harm reduction — 240 years of recovery history, told through lived experience. This is a peer recovery podcast, not medical advice. I'm Anthony, an alcoholic and addict in recovery since 2015. In this solo episode of Recovering Out Loud, I walk the whole arc of how society has explained and treated addiction — moral failing, disease, medicine, harm reduction — and why every one of those models is still alive in the room today. You can meet all of them in one 12-step meeting, one hospital, one comment section. The 12 steps are younger than the telephone. Methadone is younger than television. Almost everything we call "treatment" was invented inside living memory. Here's the timeline: From sin, to disease, to medicine, to just keeping people alive — each model didn't replace the last. They're all still in the room, arguing. Recovery isn't one thing and never has been. Whatever door worked for you — 12 steps, medication, harm reduction, a fellowship — it exists because people before us refused to accept moral failure as the final word. The opposite of addiction is connection.
Ten honest lessons from another sober summer — victimhood, relapse, isolation, service, and faith. Summer's over and I'm back to school for my counseling diploma, so this one is a reflection on getting another summer under my belt sober. If you made it through sober — congratulations, I'm proud of you. And if you didn't, I'm proud of you for being here and trying to do better. Coming back from a slip is the hardest thing I've ever done. These are ten things I've journaled and thought about over the last few months working a recovery program. They're not clinical advice — just one person's lived experience, out loud: Recovery is simple — not easy. And if no one's told you today: I love you.
My real problem was never the drugs or alcohol. It was King Baby — the toddler ego running my life. In 2015, in treatment at Hazelden, I read a little pamphlet by Tom Cunningham called King Baby . It rewired how I saw my whole problem. It made me realize I wasn't a victim — I was the problem. Not the drugs, not the alcohol. Those were symptoms. The disease underneath is perception: being stuck inside myself, unable to get out of my own head. This episode is my walk through that idea. We all start as King Baby — the infant at the center of the universe, every need met instantly. Most people grow out of it. Some of us never shed it, and the infant ego spends a lifetime trying to get that warmth back. Enter drugs and alcohol: the thing that made me feel like the center of the universe again — until it stopped working. I get honest about the "sheriff of the universe" in me (the one who's right, you're wrong, and everyone in traffic is breaking Anthony's law), the masks we wear so the real self can't get rejected, and why King Baby can't tolerate calm — how we rock the boat and manufacture chaos to hide a shrinking sense of worth. Then the way out: surrender (putting down a job I was never qualified for), humility, letting the community love me until I could love myself, and choosing — every day — whether King Baby or the program gets the mic. This is lived experience, not medical advice. I'm not a doctor or a clinician. I'm an alcoholic and addict in recovery. King Baby's still in there. He just doesn't drive the bus anymore. Would you rather be right, or free? I want to be free. FIND THE PAMPHLET HERE
Nobody warns you sobriety can make anxiety louder, not quieter — here's why, and what actually helps. When you put down the drink or the drug, the anxiety you were medicating doesn't vanish. It gets uncovered. In this solo episode I talk about the 2 a.m. racing heart, the tight chest before a phone call, the dread with no evidence — and why the further I get from a substance, the louder my brain can get. Anxiety and substance use feed each other, and I break down the two directions that takes: the anxiety that came first and got "solved" by a drink, and the rebound anxiety the substance itself manufactures. We get into why early recovery spikes anxiety (post-acute withdrawal — the second wave nobody warns you about), the anxiety–relapse loop that keeps so many of us stuck, and how avoidance quietly wears respectable clothes: skipped meetings, isolation, and yes, workaholism. Then the part this show exists for — the solutions. Five tools, strongest-evidence-first: thought work (CBT), breathwork, movement, sleep, and connection — plus an honest word about medication. This is lived experience and peer perspective, not medical advice. I'm not a doctor or a clinician. I'm an alcoholic and addict in recovery, sharing what's worked for me. Anxiety was never the enemy. It's information from a nervous system built to outrun bears, now stuck managing a group text. You can feel it and be okay. It peaks, and it comes down — every time.
Willpower won't keep you sober — it's a battery, and it drains. In this solo episode of Recovering Out Loud, Anthony makes the case that year one isn't about white-knuckling, it's about building: constructing the routines and habits that do the heavy lifting so recovery isn't a decision you have to remake at your weakest moment. He starts by killing a myth — the "21 days to a habit" idea has been debunked since the 1960s. The research that actually holds up found a median of 66 days for a behavior to become automatic, with a wide range (roughly 18 to 254 days), and exercise-type habits taking longer. What matters more than the number: consistency beats intensity, and one missed day doesn't break a habit — it's the consecutive misses that do. As Anthony puts it, you don't relapse because you skipped one meeting; you relapse because you skipped it again and again. Then he walks through the keystone habits that make everything else easier: structuring your day around the danger hours (your old use times), protecting sleep as a genuine relapse driver, moving your body, getting into community, eating regularly (with HALT — hungry, angry, lonely, tired — as a daily craving gut-check), and a daily emotional check-in to name feelings before they drive a relapse. Running through all of it is the one keystone that holds the rest together: connection. Reach out on a good day so reaching out on a bad day is already wired in. This is lived experience, not clinical advice — but the science is real. Anthony references the meta-analytic evidence for exercise in substance use disorders, the large review of 12-step and mutual-help involvement, and James Clear's Atomic Habits on removing obstacles to make good habits easier and bad ones harder. This week's one thing: Pick one small habit. Anchor it to something you already do. Do it imperfectly. Recovery isn't for those who need it or want it — it's for those who do it. Recovering Out Loud is produced by ROL Productions. Anthony shares as a person in long-term recovery — peer to peer, lived experience only, never as a clinician or expert.
Perfectionism isn't a personality quirk — it's a documented relapse risk, and it doesn't switch off just because you got sober. In this solo episode of Recovering Out Loud, Anthony unpacks how the same engine that drove the using — the need to be liked, to fit in, to perform, to be "the funny guy" — quietly follows us into recovery and sets up the next slip. We get into the difference researchers draw between perfectionistic strivings (high personal standards, which can be healthy) and perfectionistic concerns (fear of mistakes, dread of judgment, self-worth on the line) — and why the second one is the one that hurts you. Anthony walks through the abstinence violation effect: how it isn't the slip that relapses you, it's the shame spiral about the slip. He shares his own story of not even recognizing he was in a relapse — telling his story in a 12-step room while still in it — and the all-or-nothing "might as well burn it all down" thinking that turns one bad moment into a full return to use. This is lived experience, not clinical advice. But the tools Anthony names are evidence-based: catching all-or-nothing thoughts (a CBT move), self-compassion (backed by meta-analysis and RCTs showing it weakens maladaptive perfectionism), and deliberately doing one recovery thing imperfectly on purpose — the "B-minus" practice that teaches your brain you can fall short and survive it. If you've ever skipped the meeting because you couldn't do it right, quit the journal after one missed day, or worn the "I've got it together" mask while quietly drowning — this one's for you. Recovery doesn't ask you to be perfect. It asks you to be honest. This week's one thing: Do one recovery thing imperfectly, on purpose. Notice that you survive it. Recovering Out Loud is produced by ROL Productions. Anthony shares as a person in long-term recovery — peer to peer, lived experience only, never as a clinician or expert.
Why the pain, not why the addiction? An honest, peer look at the trauma model of recovery. This week it's a solo one. I sit with two thinkers who reshaped how we talk about addiction — Gabor Maté ( In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts ) and Bessel van der Kolk ( The Body Keeps the Score ) — and I try to do the thing recovery content usually skips: take what's genuinely useful, and stay honest about where it gets oversold. Maté's line — the question isn't why the addiction , it's why the pain — did more to pull shame out of addiction than almost anything this century. It reframes you from a bad person into a hurt person, and for a lot of us that's the first door out of self-hatred. Van der Kolk adds that trauma doesn't just live in your memory, it lives in the body and nervous system — which is why cravings and relapse aren't a simple willpower problem. I also get personal about what trauma actually is (it's not only the "big" events — it's how your body stored what happened), a grade-four moment I still carry, and the long work of forgiving myself, including after a relapse that cost me what I thought was seven and a half years. Then the other side. Critics like Stanton Peele and Nick Haslam point out that most people with addiction weren't traumatized as children, and most people who were traumatized don't become addicted — trauma raises risk, it doesn't write destiny. Richard McNally argues some of the science gets stated more strongly than the evidence supports. The danger for us in recovery: "my trauma made me this way" can flip from liberating to a life sentence. The honest frame — your pain is real, and you're still not sentenced by it. Understanding why you hurt is a starting line, not a verdict. Two questions I leave you with: – Does understanding my pain free me, or give me a place to hide? – My pain is real, and I'm still responsible for ______. Recovering Out Loud is peer-to-peer lived experience, not medical or clinical advice. If you're struggling, please reach out to a professional or a trusted person in your life.
Surrender sounded like giving up — until it became the thing that finally let me stop losing. For years I thought surrender meant waving the white flag: defeat, quitting, rolling over. My ego hated it. This solo episode is me trying to do what nobody did for me early on — actually explain what surrender is, what it isn't, and how you practice it on an ordinary Tuesday. I get into the difference between compliance and surrender — a distinction the psychiatrist Dr. Harry Tiebout drew back in the 1950s. Compliance is going through the motions while privately keeping a date in your head for when you'll go back. Surrender is the internal shift where you stop reserving that exit. I was compliant through all three of my rehabs before I ever actually surrendered — and from the outside, the two look identical. Only you know the difference. I talk about my third time in treatment, the moment I handed over my drugs and said I'm done; why real surrender tends to show up right when the ego runs out of moves; and why it's never one-and-done. It's a state you keep returning to — in traffic, in a resentment, in a craving, in the things about my own health I can't control right now. I share the metaphor a therapist gave me: treat your anxiety, fear, and depression like guests knocking at the door. You can board it up, or you can invite them in for coffee and watch them leave on their own. And the paradox at the center of all of it: the more I surrender, the more freedom, peace, and quiet I actually get. If you're white-knuckling right now, here's the honest starting point — compliance counts. It gets you in the door. Surrender can come later. Recovery is simple. It's just not easy.
Working the steps gets you sober. Living the principles keeps you there. All 12 — and why they hold. My mentor asks me one question: "How are you living today, Anthony?" It's easy to be a star in the rooms — shake hands, smile, say everything's great. But the magic is in the other 99% of life: the traffic, the argument, the boring Wednesday afternoon. Step 12 says to practice these principles in all our affairs, and this episode is about what that actually looks like day to day. Addiction ran on dishonesty, isolation, and being the center of my own universe. Recovery didn't work because I white-knuckled that old system harder — it worked because I started running a new one. That's what the principles are. And they keep you sober almost mechanically: you can't be honest, connected, of service, and paying attention, and also be quietly walking toward a relapse. Those two things can't run at the same time. I walk all twelve — what each one is, what it costs, and why living it keeps you from picking up. Take what works, leave the rest. There's no official list of these; this is the version I've lived with.
Ten things I thought were normal until I got sober — supply math, pre-gaming, the morning panic. I'm not a doctor. I'm just a guy who did all ten of these, and didn't realize nobody else was living like this until I put it down. In this solo episode I walk through the behaviours that quietly separate problem drinking from normal drinking — the stuff we laugh about in the rooms because we all thought we were the only one. If you're sitting with the question "am I an alcoholic or not," this one's for you. I can't answer that for you. Nobody can. But maybe hearing your own life described back to you helps you decide. The 10: Supply math — knowing exactly how much is left, to the ounce Pre-gaming — warming up before the thing where you'll already be drinking "Just one" being a foreign concept — one was a starting pistol, not a finish line and more... A bit of my story is in here too: in recovery since 2015, a relapse around seven and a half years, and one and a half years sober again today. Grateful to be alive, grateful to be sober. None of this made me a bad person. It made me a person with a thing. And every one of these stopped the day I stopped. If you're new, or you've been here a while and needed the reminder — thank you for listening. Follow the show if you haven't; it's the best (and free-est) way to support it.
The wins nobody claps for are the ones that built your recovery. Here are the hidden ones. We throw parties for the first sober birthday and the first sober holiday. But nobody warns you about the first sober funeral, the first sober breakup, the first heartbreak you walk through with nothing to numb it. In this solo episode I share the opportunities that hid inside the hard parts of getting sober — the ones I almost missed because I was looking at them the wrong way. This one is a perspective shift. Addiction, for me, was a disease of perception — being stuck in my own view and unable to see another angle. Recovery keeps handing me a different lens. So I walk through the moments most of us overlook: — The quiet window after an urge passes. Cravings work like waves: they build, peak, and fade, usually faster than you'd think, if you don't feed them. The magic isn't the wave passing — it's the proof you bank when it does. "I survived that without using." That's a rep. — Boredom as data, not danger. Boredom is one of the most reliable relapse triggers there is. But it's a signal, not a threat — it's pointing at a gap. When you read it instead of running from it, it tells you what you actually need. — Resentment as a mirror. The people who get under my skin are usually holding up a mirror I don't want to look in. Every name on the resentment list is a pointer at a fear or a want of mine in disguise. It turns a hit list into a treasure map. — The 2 a.m. scroll as a check-in. The scroll isn't the problem — it's a symptom. Instead of piling on shame, I use it as my body raising its hand: what am I actually avoiding right now? — The hours you get back. Active addiction was a full-time job. Recovery didn't just remove the substance — it handed me back the clock. That reclaimed time is terrifying and it's the single biggest hidden opportunity there is. Don't just fill it so you don't drink. Build a life you don't want to escape from. A note before you listen: this is for the everyday hard feelings — the cravings, the resentments, the 4 p.m. dread. It is not a substitute for real help in a crisis. Some waves need a lifeguard, not a surfboard. Riding it out and reaching out are both strength — the work is knowing which one the moment calls for.
Ten weird things my alcoholic brain still does in recovery — and why none of them run my life anymore. I've been in recovery since 2015. I relapsed around seven and a half years in, and I'm back — a year and a half sober again. This is a solo one: just me laughing at my own brain out loud, because I'm convinced it works differently than someone who doesn't have this thing. For me, alcoholism is a disease of perception — I'm the center, everyone else is just orbiting, and I only ever get my own lens. So I made a list of the patterns I still catch myself running. The arguments I win against strangers who have no idea we're fighting. The "must be nice" my brain mutters when I clock someone else using. The full movie of every possible outcome it insists on screening before anything's even happened. Some of it's funny. Some of it is the exact thinking that used to drink at me. Most of it, I'd bet, you'll recognize. Here's the part that matters: today I can watch all of it happen and just go, "oh, I'm doing that thing again" — and let it pass. The space between the thought and the action gets bigger. It gets quieter. That's what showing up does. If you're in it right now and can't stop drinking or using: keep showing up. Find someone in recovery who has what you want, and do what they did. Simple, not easy. If no one's told you today — I love you. Recovery is simple, not easy.
Ten recovery myths that keep people stuck — from someone sober again after a hard relapse. Almost everything I thought I knew about getting sober turned out to be wrong, and some of it nearly cost me my life. In this solo episode I go through ten of the biggest myths I hear online, from friends, and in the news — why each one sticks around, and what's tended to be truer in my actual experience. I'm a year and a half sober after seven and a half years of continuous sobriety and a relapse I didn't see coming. So I've been on both sides of most of these: the version of me that believed them, and the version that lived long enough to find out they were false. This isn't clinical advice and I'm not a doctor — it's lived experience, peer to peer. Take what you like and leave the rest. We cover: Whether you really have to "hit rock bottom" first (and what a bottom actually is) Why addiction was never about willpower for me The "once you're sober you're cured" trap — and why sober is the starting line, not the finish What relapse does and doesn't erase Why "do it on your own" kept me sick The high-functioning myth ("I'm not bad enough to need help") Medication in recovery — and why that's between you and your doctor The moderation fantasy The idea that recovery is boring Whether you have to "want it" before treatment can work If one of these lands for you, that's the point. Write your own myths in the comments.
CHEF DEV IS BACK...A counsellor once asked Devan: what's wrong with the way you feel? This is that conversation. Chef Devan Rajkumar Today, he travels and cooks across different cities, constantly learning, evolving, and refining his approach. Every kitchen, every culture, and every experience adds to how he creates. He stays curious, asks questions, and continues to grow because great food comes from understanding, not ego. He was filling out intake forms in treatment, and where they asked why he got high, he wrote the honest answer — I love the feeling of it. The counsellor read it back and asked him one question that took years to really land: what's wrong with the way you feel? That question sits underneath everything we get into here. We start somewhere lighter — cutting the "jacked guys" out of an Instagram feed — and end up on steroids, peptides and Ozempic as drugs, and the question neither of us fully answered: are you still sober if you're on gear? From there it goes where the real ones go. Body shaming and the comments that stick — the uncle who says "you got fat" before he says hello. The guilt and shame under the attention. And the root of it: what are you actually escaping from? Devan opens up about the mask, the people-pleasing, and putting the oxygen mask on everyone but himself. We talk about how you help someone who won't help themselves, the bridge you can't see until you've crossed it, and why early recovery feels impossible from the inside. Then the stuff that keeps us here: quitting cigarettes and finally deciding if I put it in my body, it has to be good for me. The double life and the secrets that fuel relapse — because in my experience it was never the substance, it was the behaviours around it. The strivers' curse — trading the addiction for a stacked calendar and an overtrained body. Spirituality as humility and gratitude. Seva — selfless service with nobody watching. And a moment I didn't expect, where Devan gets honest about where his own program is thin right now, and decides to do something about it. Nobody in this one has it all figured out. That's the point. If you've ever sat in a room thinking you're the worst one doing this, this episode is for you. This is a peer conversation — lived experience, not clinical or professional advice. 👋 If this hit home Follow Recovering Out Loud so the next one finds you, and leave a rating if the show's ever helped — it's the single biggest thing that helps another struggling person find us.
What happens when you tell people you're sober — and how to handle every reaction. Getting sober is one job. Telling people you're sober is a completely separate one — and it never really ends. New party, new drink in someone's outstretched hand, and there you are deciding again how to say it. In this solo episode, Anthony walks through the reactions you'll actually get when you tell people you don't drink, what each one really means (spoiler: it's usually about them, not you), and how much you actually owe anyone. This is one person's lived experience, not a rulebook. Everybody's disclosure looks different — take what helps and leave the rest. Inside this episode: The five reactions — the Defensive Drinker, the "Good For You," the Pusher, the Pity, and the Fighter — and what's driving each Why disclosure and anonymity are two different things (you can be open about being sober without ever naming a program) The full menu of what to say, from "I don't drink" as a complete sentence to the lines that shut down a pusher Handling it in the wild: dating, work, family, and the old friend groups who only ever knew you with a drink in your hand The reframe that takes their reaction off your shoulders — and the upside almost nobody mentions If you're finding your footing in sobriety, being open about it out loud turns a private struggle into something with a door in it. That's the whole point of the show. Follow Recovering Out Loud so the next episode finds you, and if it helped, leave a rating — it's the single biggest thing that helps someone else find the show. 💬 Comment: what reaction caught you off guard, and what do you say when someone asks why you're not drinking? Recovering Out Loud — Real stories.
The Four Agreements, read through a recovery lens — words, resentment, assumptions, and doing your best. A quiet 1997 book that keeps showing up in the rooms, even though it wasn't written for them. I go through all four agreements and how each maps onto staying sober — the self-talk that runs on autopilot, the gossip that turns fellowship into a rumor mill, the resentments we build out of things that were never about us, and the perfectionism that punishes an imperfect day into a relapse. Peer perspective and lived experience only — not professional advice. Pick one agreement. Live with it for seven days. Notice what shifts. In paid partnership with New Beginnings Recovery Home (newbeginningsrecovery.ca). DM HOME for info. Follow Recovering Out Loud on Spotify and tap the bell. If no one told you today — I love you.
The thing that almost killed me and the thing keeping me sober are the same voice: ego. In this solo episode I break down ego the way it actually shows up in recovery — not the loudmouth cliché, but the quiet self-centeredness underneath it. Ego has two faces that trade shifts: the top of the seesaw ("I've got this, the rules don't apply to me") and the bottom ("I'm the worst, nobody's been through what I've been through"). Grandiosity and self-pity are the same lie wearing different clothes — the lie that I'm the center of the story. I get into how ego keeps us sick: it's the bouncer at the door of help. Terminal uniqueness ("my situation is different, so I don't have to do the work"). Being right over being well. Comparison — measuring my insides against everyone else's outsides, the thief of joy. And the complacency trap, where the longer you're sober the quieter ego gets, until it whispers one won't hurt . I share the Jamaica story — two years sober, funnels on the beach, and the pause that let me play the tape all the way through. Then resentment and relapse: how ego keeps a ledger, charges interest, and builds the on-ramp back one justification at a time. (Yes, there's an elevator story.) The back half is the antidote — humility. Not humiliation, not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less. Right-sizing. Asking for help before I'm on fire. Staying teachable. Service that inconveniences me. Getting honest with someone, because secrets keep you sick. The goal was never to kill the ego — recovery is an ego-deflating process. Start from zero every day, catch the voice a little quicker, and stop letting it drive the bus. If no one's told you yet today: I love you. And remember — recovery is simple, not easy. Book mentioned: Emotional Sobriety: The Next Frontier New Beginnings Recovery Home — this episode is supported by New Beginnings Recovery Home, a disclosed partner of the show. If you or someone you love needs a next step, DM the word HOME and we'll point you in the right direction. newbeginningsrecovery.ca
The thing that kept me sober turned out to be the thing that made me better at being a person. Recovery isn't just about not using — it's a full retraining in how to be a human being. Most of us don't notice how many of those skills transfer until we're using them on a Tuesday at work. Today I walk through the six that followed me out the door of rehab and straight into a better life — not just financially, but in my relationships and how I show up. The 6 skills: The pause — the gap between an urge and your action, and how it grows the longer you stay sober HALT — hungry, angry, lonely, tired: scan your own state before you decide the problem is your marriage One day at a time — shrinking the unit of time you're responsible for so the impossible becomes doable Rigorous honesty — you can't stay sober on a foundation of secrets, and the honest version of you is more trustworthy than the polished one Amends over apology — sorry is a sentence; an amends is a pattern change Asking for help — the "I should handle this myself" voice is the same one that almost killed me These aren't recovery hacks. They're life skills most people never get formally taught — school skips emotional regulation. Getting sober forced me to learn them under pressure. What a gift. Peer perspective only — this isn't medical or clinical advice. If you're struggling or in crisis, please reach out to someone you trust or a local support line. Which skill are you going to use this week? Tell me in the comments. This episode is supported by New Beginnings Recovery Home (newbeginningsrecovery.ca). If you or someone you love needs a supportive place to land go to their website
Money, cars, a house — all recoverable. Your health and your life aren't. That's one of ten lessons I pulled from the consequences of my addiction. Before I get into them: if you hear one of these and think "mine wasn't that bad" or "mine was worse" — stop comparing. Look for the similarities, not the differences. Our circumstances differ, but I know addiction, so I know what you're going through. After 11 years in and around recovery — a relapse at seven and a half years, and a year and a half back now — here's what the wreckage taught me: It always gets worse when I pick up. I'm the cautionary tale. Debt — and finding out shopping was a cross-addiction I still have to watch The accidents: "I haven't done it yet" beats "I'd never do that" A health scare that showed me exactly where I was headed Being homeless isn't fun — and how a lower bottom finally got me ready Losing jobs, and pointing the finger inward Jekyll and Hyde: I become a different person when I use Honesty is the best policy — especially when it costs me Material things come back. Health and life often don't. Accountability, forgiveness, and the family that isn't owed to me Peer perspective only — this isn't medical or clinical advice. If you're struggling or in crisis, please reach out to someone you trust or a local support line. Which lesson hit hardest? Tell me in the comments. This episode is supported by New Beginnings Recovery Home (newbeginningsrecovery.ca) — the same place I go to share my story with clients. If you or someone you love needs a supportive place to land, DM the word HOME and our automation will point you in the right direction. (Disclosed partnership.) Recovering Out Loud — Real stories.
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