SHINE

Shine On: What Life Has Taught Me About Becoming the Sun

There was a time when I believed life in recovery was about surviving. Just make it through today.

• Don’t drink.

• Don’t use.

• Don’t blow up your life.

That seemed like enough.

It didn’t take me twenty-one years to realize there was more to recovery. That realization came much sooner. What the last twenty-one years have done is deepen my understanding of what that “more” truly is.

Recovery was never asking me to merely survive. It was asking me to learn how to shine. Forcing my feet to keep on moving.

Recovery begins there.

• Not with inspiration.

• Not with certainty.

• Not with confidence.

• It begins with movement.

Sometimes the bravest thing any of us ever do is put both feet on the floor and choose not to return to the life that was slowly destroying us.

There were days when I didn’t know whether I was becoming someone better or simply becoming someone exhausted. I kept walking anyway.

• Guilt.

• Remorse.

• Shame.

• Regret.

• Self loathing.

• Self pity.

• Feeling responsible for everything.

• Wondering if you’ve had enough.

• Wondering if life was worth living.

Anyone who’s battled addiction understands those conversations. They happen in the quiet places where nobody else can hear them.

Recovery doesn’t erase those voices overnight. It simply teaches you not to obey them anymore.

Over time, I let the sunrays turn a dark soul bright. Little by little, I stopped standing between myself and the light.

• I allowed grace in.

• I allowed forgiveness in.

• I allowed people to love me before I believed I deserved it.

Eventually, one moment at a time, I discovered something remarkable. Darkness doesn’t have to be defeated. It simply disappears wherever light is allowed to exist.

This journey has taught me far more than how to stay sober. It has taught me how to live.

• It’s telling the truth.

• Keeping your word.

• Owning your mistakes without drowning in shame.

• Choosing peace over being right.

• Protecting your energy without closing your heart. 

• Serving people when no one is watching.

• Being fully present for another human being.

• Finding gratitude in ordinary Tuesdays.

• Remembering where you came from without needing to live there anymore.

The older I get, the more I believe every person is carrying two stories.

The story of the identity their pain convinced them was true … and the story of who they became once they stopped believing the lie.

Recovery gave me permission to rewrite mine. Not by pretending the past never happened. But by refusing to let it write my future. I have found a love to believe in. I am not talking about romance. I’m talking about purpose.

• Find something worth waking up for.

• Find people worth serving.

• Find beauty worth protecting.

• Find forgiveness worth practicing.

• Find a life so meaningful that escaping it no longer sounds appealing.

Today I still have problems, just like everyone else. I worry about money. I wonder where I’ll eventually call home. I question my future just like everyone else. But none of those things own me anymore. Because recovery gave me something alcohol never could. It gave me myself.

If you’re reading this and you’re struggling, I hope you know something.

• You don’t have to become the brightest person in the room.

• You don’t have to have all the answers.

• You don’t have to outrun your past.

• Just keep moving.

• Keep choosing honesty.

• Keep choosing connection.

• Keep allowing the light in.

• Keep asking for help.

One day you’ll realize something incredible. You stopped trying to survive, and somewhere along the way, you became the sunlight for someone else.

Shine on like the sun. Hold on to that feeling. Find a love to believe in.

Because that’s what life really is.

Not escaping the darkness.

Learning to become the light.