I've been doing the work for decades. 15,413 days sober, one day at a time. Therapy. Meetings. Step work. Prayer. All of it. And it's still hard. I'm still struggling with anxiety. Still catching myself in the same patterns. Still dealing with wounds from when I was seven years old. Still working on forgiving people who hurt me decades ago.
Some days that makes me furious. Not because I'm not trying—but because I AM trying, and it's still not making life golden the way I thought it would. I used to think recovery worked like a formula: put in the work, get the results. But healing doesn't work like that. Being human doesn't work like that.
Even after 15,413 days, it's still hard. But here's my point: I don't want you to feel like you aren't making progress or "getting it." Look hard at what you are doing, track your progress, THEN you'll know and see.
This episode is about five people who stuck with me through all of it. Not just the early days of sobriety—but the decades of still doing the work. Five people who showed up every single day. Not just when it was easy. Not just when I was doing well. EVERY DAY. Even when they were probably tired of my shit.
Their names are Sheila, Keverne, Ivan, Ray, and Ric. My sisters come first, and the guys are in alphabetical order—that's not importance level, that's just me trying to avoid arguments. Sorry Ray, you're stuck in the middle.
These five people answered the phone at 2 AM. They listened to the same anxiety spiral for the 47th time—actually, that's an understatement. They didn't run when it got hard. And here's what most people don't understand: being that person for someone is fucking HARD. It's exhausting. But they did it anyway.
I tell the story of calling my sister Sheila during my divorce when I was walking miles every day because the anxiety was so terrible I couldn't sit still. I wanted to die. That was the only thought I had—the only thing I could think of to relieve the pain. I called Sheila crying, telling her how screwed up my life was. She said, "I don't think that's all true what you are saying." Calm. Steady. Not feeding into the catastrophe my brain was creating. Then she said, "I love you. Your life is worth living. Remember all the other people who love you too."
And I'm still here.
That's what showing up every day looks like. Sheila didn't have a magic solution. She didn't fix my divorce. She didn't make the anxiety go away. But she was THERE. She reminded me my life was worth living when I couldn't see it myself.
My sister Keverne heard every story about the failed relationship during the separation and after the divorce. She HAD to be tired—recovering from cancer and still listening. Still there for me. Call after call, she had advice and insight and a way of talking that made the anxiety subside, if even for a few minutes.
Ivan, Ray, Ric—they chose to show up. Not because they had to. Not because we're related. But because they decided I was worth it, even on the days when I probably wasn't.
There's a difference between people who say "I'm here for you" and people who actually ARE. When it's 2 AM and you're calling AGAIN, that's when you find out who really means it.
This episode is about gratitude for the people who stuck. And if you don't have people like this, I want you to know: you can BUILD this. Show up in meetings, support groups, communities. Show up everywhere you can. And maybe YOU become someone else's Sheila—the person who picks up at 2 AM for someone who needs it.
Key topics: gratitude, support systems, recovery community, showing up for others, anxiety support, long-term sobriety, family support, chosen family, depression and suicidal thoughts, being there for others, exhausting to love, mental health support
