Skip to content
Sober Mommies: The Truth About Pain And Misery In Addiction

The Truth About Pain and Misery In Addiction

It’s the pain that creates the real change. It's misery, the purest kind of misery, that makes you believe in second chances.

I believe in change. I believe in growth. I believe in lessons learned and second chances. I believe in forgiveness. And I most adamantly believe that we do NOT have to pay for our mistakes forever. I don’t just blindly believe in these things because they are convenient and comforting. Believe me, the growth and changes I’ve managed to accomplish in the time since I willingly signed my heart away on that awful October day in some attorney’s office downtown, have been anything but convenient.

But it’s the pain that creates the real change. It’s misery, the purest kind of misery, that envelops your sickly body, leaves you barely able to breathe, yet makes you believe in second chances.

Pain and misery.

And here’s how. It’s that one. That final, ultimate, self-inflicted, spiritually lethal dose of the almighty fix you’ve come to love above all others. It’s that burn slowly traveling down through your once anxious chest. It’s that continued flow settling familiarly into your expectant, welcoming stomach. It’s the knowledge that the reliable sting you feel inside you will most assuredly commence disintegrating your every problem—just as it always has.

Soon it should cast numbness over grief, and mold hurt into relief. It’s that one last twinge of impending escape that the magical concoction of anticipated oblivion will surely supply you. And you wait for it to come, smiling at the thought, ready to forget.

Only this time it doesn’t. It doesn’t come. You feel your anxious chest heave quickly instead of calming. Your stomach is no longer welcoming its favorite guest’s arrival. Instead it knots and cramps force you onto your knees, hunched over and terrified. In between racing thoughts, you suddenly realize that your problems not only still exist, but somehow they’ve multiplied.

Knives of grief pierce your flesh relentlessly where you were once certain impenetrable shields of relief had formed to protect you from your past. After all, for all of those years, you’d remained so faithful to your Master. All those years, you relied on the solution he provided. But your Master lied to you. And then he turned on you…in every possible way.

Hard to believe isn’t it? It couldn’t possibly be true.

But if you’ll sit still with me and listen, I’ll tell you the truth. The real truth. Ready?

It’s a gift.

You’ve just been given the best gift you’ll ever receive. You’ve been blessed with the desperation of the dying—because you were well on your way. This desperation—coursing through weak and fading veins, finding it’s way throughout your body, crossing every inch of you—despite the pain, despite the grief, despite the harsh reality and overwhelming emotions—this sweet desperation, growing stronger against all odds, stumbling to its feet, finally forcing the orders out, in its most commanding voice, “GET. UP.”

YES. This is a gift. This is YOUR gift. It’s free and it is priceless. It’s your ticket home. To true freedom. To a genuine solution. To true peace. To faith. To love. To a life worth living. To whoever you are meant to be.

Take it.

This post was written by Raegan.

original photo credit: *Nom & Malc via photopin cc

Share this post


  1. These words are so powerful! As a mother in a similar situation I can identify with those feelings! To be able to read the words and breathe a sense of relief knowing I made it through that. Today I am back in my children’s life, one day at a time getting stronger. The blessings are endless! Love you courage to write this!!

  2. Raegan,

    This describes, ever-so-perfectly, the day the music died. Reading these words brought me back to the last time I was drunk from the neck down and still couldn’t shut off the noise in my head. The booze stopped working. My best friend turned against me. It was my only solution at the time, and I didn’t know what else to do.

    Bottom hurts.

    You’re SO right though…it IS a gift. The memory of the feelings I had the day I made the decision to cut the shit are the ones that keep my feet moving in recovery. I don’t EVER want to feel that way again. The most beautiful part? I don’t EVER have to.

    Thank you for letting me publish this piece today. It’s such a powerful reminder of not only where I was, but how lucky I am to be where I am.


  3. This is beautifully and powerfully written turning what seems the final knife into something beautiful. Thank you

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Site Design: AGWKnapper
Copyright Sober Mommies ©2024