That Temporary Fix Will Not Heal Your Long-Term Emotional Wounds
I have been sober for five months now—something I never imagined I’d say. I have an addictive personality, and once I find something I like, I don’t stop until I’ve had too much of it. So sobriety felt impossible… until it wasn’t.
When I say sober, I mean completely sober—nothing at all.
My wake-up call began the moment I noticed a painful pattern:
Every time I needed to cry or felt overwhelmed, I’d rush to the liquor store to grab a bottle. That bottle became my comfort, my escape, my silence button. Before I knew it, I was buying alcohol daily because I had nothing else to drink in the house. Drinking wasn’t a treat—it was survival. It was routine. It was my normal.
Drinking to Socialize
I even realized I couldn’t socialize without alcohol. Around family or friends, I kept to myself—silent, anxious, awkward. I was so used to being alone that being around people felt foreign. But once I started drinking, I transformed. Suddenly, I was talkative, outgoing, a social butterfly.
And it wasn’t soft drinks or wine coolers—I drank harsh liquor.
Gin, 80-proof, straight.
My own bottle, every time.
Wine didn’t go down lightly either. I would drink the entire bottle without meaning to. A glass after work, a glass while cooking, a glass after dinner, another before bed. Before I knew it, the bottle was gone—and so was my peace.
Drinking Out of Boredom and Pain
Weekends weren’t better. My ex and I rarely went anywhere because I was supporting both of us financially. With little money left for entertainment, we stayed inside often—and I drank out of boredom.
Out of frustration.
Out of loneliness.
Out of a need to numb myself from the toxicity I had normalized.
Seeing Clearly While Sober
This Thanksgiving, my mom hosted dinner, and as usual, the family brought drinks. I didn’t indulge. I sat quietly, and everyone assumed I was being standoffish. I wasn’t. I just didn’t have anything to contribute to the conversations.
Sobriety has made family gatherings feel different.
Not uncomfortable—just revealing.
I could see the unspoken pain, the unresolved trauma, the loud coping mechanisms people hide behind their laughter. And I thanked God for the peace He’s given me—peace I didn’t even know was possible.
The Moment Everything Changed
My sobriety began as part of my weight-loss journey. I gained over 50 pounds during my relationship, and when it finally ended, I returned to working out. I challenged myself to go 30 days without drinking to help jumpstart the process.
I was doing well—until my aunt passed away.
Grief hit hard, and I reverted to old coping habits.
My mom had a bottle of Ketel One in the house. I poured a glass, took a sip… and immediately spit it out. I tried mixing it, tried shooting it, tried everything. But I couldn’t keep it down.
And then I remembered one of my prayers:
"God, take away my desire for alcohol."
He did exactly that.
The taste was unbearable—disgusting in a way I had never experienced. And I knew that wasn’t a coincidence.
Temporary Fixes Do Not Heal Long-Term Wounds
I share this because drinking became my way of “healing.”
But it wasn't healing—
It was escaping.
Avoiding.
Numbing.
It was a temporary fix for long-term trauma.
If you’re doing the same—whether through drinking, smoking, dating, shopping, or anything else meant to distract you—please hear me:
Temporary fixes will never heal long-term emotional wounds.
You have to go inward.
You have to face the truth.
You have to let God work on you the way the world cannot.
The Life on the Other Side
Since choosing sobriety:
I’ve lost 49 pounds
I’ve built a consistent routine
My hair is growing again
My skin is improving
My mind is clearer
My relationship with God is stronger
And I feel a peace I never thought I’d experience
Healing isn’t easy, but it’s worth it.
Sobriety didn’t just change my habits—
It changed my life.
It changed me.
I encourage you to do the work within.
Your future self is waiting for you to begin.
