after the noise

A journal about life, recovery, and everything in between.

Recent Posts

  • fourteen days

    fourteen days

    Tomorrow will be Day 14.

    Two weeks.

    It’s not a huge number in the grand scheme of things, but right now it feels pretty significant to me.

    Fourteen days ago, I wasn’t thinking very far ahead. I wasn’t thinking about what my life could look like in a year, or even necessarily a few weeks. I was caught up in the noise again, and everything outside of that moment felt very far away.

    Now I’m sitting here thinking about second chances.

    I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do with mine yet. I think part of me used to believe that changing my life meant suddenly becoming a completely different person. New routines, new interests, perfect relationships, perfect health, everything figured out.

    I’m realizing it might be much simpler than that.

    Maybe a second chance is just getting another morning and choosing what to do with it.

    It’s going to a meeting. Going to the gym. Reading a book. Writing something here. Spending time with my family. Taking my dog for a walk. Doing well at work without letting work become my entire life. Saying no when I need to. Learning how to sit with myself when things are uncomfortable instead of immediately looking for somewhere to escape.

    They’re ordinary things.

    But lately, ordinary feels pretty extraordinary.

    There is so much of my life I haven’t experienced yet. Places I haven’t been. People I haven’t met. Things I haven’t learned. Books I haven’t read. Quiet mornings I haven’t woken up to. Versions of myself I haven’t had the chance to become.

    For the first time in a while, I’m curious about all of it.

    I know 14 days doesn’t guarantee anything. Recovery isn’t something I get to finish and move on from. There will be difficult days ahead, and I’m sure there will be moments when this optimism feels harder to find.

    But I don’t need to figure out the rest of my life tonight.

    Tomorrow is Day 14.

    I’m still here.

    And I want to see what life has to offer.

  • protecting my peace

    Recovery has made me realize how much of my life I’ve spent worrying about how I’m supposed to be.

    Be social. Be successful. Go out. Have fun. Say yes. Don’t be boring. Don’t disappoint anyone. Don’t make things awkward. Keep up. Show up.

    There’s always some version of yourself that the world seems to want from you.

    And right now, I’m learning that I don’t have to be that person.

    I’m allowed to protect my peace.

    That might mean saying no to plans I would have automatically said yes to before. It might mean leaving somewhere early because I don’t feel comfortable. It might mean spending a Saturday night reading instead of going out, going to the gym instead of meeting for drinks, or choosing to be around people who make my life feel calmer instead of louder.

    And I don’t think that means I’m hiding from the world.

    For a long time, I confused chaos with living. A busy night, another drink, another place to go, another person to see. There was always something happening. Sometimes I think I was so afraid of being bored or alone that I never really stopped to ask myself whether I was actually happy.

    Recovery is forcing me to ask that question.

    What actually makes me feel good? What makes me feel safe? Who do I want around me? What kind of life do I want when nobody else is watching?

    I’m starting to realize that protecting my sobriety also means protecting the environment around it. I don’t have to put myself somewhere that doesn’t feel right just to prove I can handle it. I don’t have to explain every boundary. And I don’t have to live according to somebody else’s definition of fun, success or happiness.

    Maybe some people won’t understand the choices I make now.

    That’s okay.

    I’m the one who has to wake up inside my life tomorrow.

    And right now, peace feels like something worth protecting.

  • two things can be true

    two things can be true

    My sister is my best friend, and this week I’ve missed her.

    She’s been busy. She’s had her own life and her own things going on, and after everything that’s happened recently, I also understand that maybe she needs some space from me. I can understand that without necessarily liking how it feels.

    I think that’s one of the harder things I’m learning right now: two things can be true.

    Someone I love can be hurt by my actions, and I can be hurting too. They can need space, and I can feel lonely because of that space. I can understand why things might feel different between us right now while still wishing desperately that they didn’t.

    Recovery asks you to take responsibility for the pain you’ve caused, and I want to do that. But sometimes I think I confuse taking responsibility with believing I’m no longer allowed to have feelings of my own.

    I am.

    Today I wanted my sister around. I wanted things to feel normal. I wanted to laugh with my best friend and have one of those completely ordinary days that I probably never appreciated enough when I had them.

    Instead, I had to let her have her day and sit with how that made me feel.

    Maybe that’s part of this too. Learning that I can’t immediately fix every uncomfortable feeling. I can’t control when relationships feel normal again. I can’t demand closeness because I’m lonely, just as I don’t have to pretend the distance doesn’t hurt.

    I can love someone enough to give them space.

    And I can miss them while I do it.

    Two things can be true.

  • this time last week

    This time last week, I was planning to go out.

    I was thinking about having a drink. I obviously didn’t know where that decision would eventually take me or how I would feel in the days that followed.

    Today is Day 7.

    It’s strange looking back at the person I was only one week ago because I’m still that person. Seven days haven’t magically changed me. I’m still tired sometimes. I’m still dealing with regret. I’m still trying to repair things, understand myself and figure out what recovery actually looks like this time.

    But my days already look a little different.

    I’ve gone to meetings. I’ve prayed. I’ve started writing. I’ve been thinking about hobbies, reading again and what I actually want my life to look like. I’ve spent more time being present with the people I love. And I’ve started trying to be a little kinder to myself.

    None of that sounds particularly extraordinary.

    But compared to where my head was this time last week, it feels like something.

    I don’t know what Day 30 looks like yet. Or Day 100. I’m trying not to get too far ahead of myself.

    Today is Day 7.

    And today, I don’t want to escape my life.

    I want to build one I want to stay for.

  • things I still carry

    My sponsor asked me to write a resentment list.

    Basically, a list of people, situations and things from my past that I still carry anger, hurt or resentment toward. Some names came to me immediately. Others took a little longer. And then there were the ones I didn’t necessarily want to admit were still taking up space in my head.

    It’s strange seeing it all written down.

    Some of these things happened years ago. Some of these people probably haven’t thought about me in a very long time. And yet somehow I’ve continued carrying pieces of those experiences with me.

    I’m starting to understand that recovery isn’t only about putting down the drink or the drugs. There’s also all this other stuff underneath it — anger, fear, shame, old relationships, things I wish had happened differently and things I still haven’t completely forgiven.

    And maybe one of the hardest names to acknowledge on that list is my own.

    There are things I’m angry at myself for. Choices I’ve made. People I’ve hurt. Time I’ve lost. Versions of myself I wish I could go back and change.

    I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all of it yet. Maybe that’s the point of writing the list in the first place.

    For now, I’m just looking at the things I’ve been carrying.

    Maybe eventually I’ll learn how to put some of them down.

  • when sorry isn’t enough, you give it time

    My sister is my best friend, which means one of the hardest parts of relapse is knowing that it doesn’t only happen to me.

    Of course I want to say I’m sorry. I want her to know how much regret I feel and how badly I wish I could change what happened. But I’m learning that sometimes sorry isn’t enough. Not because the apology isn’t real, but because some things need time.

    That’s probably one of the hardest things for me to accept.

    When I hurt someone I love, my instinct is to want to fix it immediately. I want to explain myself, apologize again, make sure we’re okay and somehow get everything back to normal. But recovery is teaching me that I don’t get to decide when someone else is ready.

    Sometimes loving someone means giving them space. Letting them feel whatever they need to feel without asking them to make me feel better about it.

    So maybe right now I don’t need another apology.

    I need patience. I need to keep showing up. Go to my meetings. Stay sober. Be present. Be kinder. And let my actions slowly say the things that my words can’t anymore.

    I hope, with time, the people I love will see the person I’m trying to become.

    Until then, I have to give them that time.

  • a letter to the person i’m becoming

    Dear me,

    I’m writing this because right now, everything is still very new. I’m only a few days sober, and I don’t know exactly what the next few months or years are going to look like. But I do know that I want things to change. Not just the drinking and drugs. I want to change the way I live my life.

    I want you to be strong again. Get back to the gym, eat well, sleep properly and take care of your body. Not because you need to be perfect, but because you know how much better you feel when you’re taking care of yourself.

    I want you to be a better son and brother. Be kinder. Be present. Call Dad. Spend time with your sister. Let them experience the good parts of you too, instead of always having to worry about you. You’ve had a glimpse of what life could feel like without the people you love most, and I hope you never forget how much they mean to you.

    Keep succeeding at work. Be ambitious. Be proud of yourself. But do it on your terms. No job, title, client, deadline or work event is worth your sobriety. Success means very little if you lose yourself getting there.

    Go back to your home group. Build relationships there. Go to AA. Talk to people. Listen. Help someone when you’re eventually able to. Build a community around yourself and stop believing you have to figure everything out alone.

    Read again. Write. Find hobbies. Go outside. Travel. Spend time with your dog. Learn things. Have quiet weekends. Find out what you actually enjoy when you’re not trying to escape from yourself.

    Most importantly, don’t expect yourself to become this person overnight. You’re going to have difficult days. You’re going to get things wrong. Just keep moving toward the life you’re describing here.

    I hope one day you come back and read this and realize that somewhere along the way, these stopped being goals and simply became your life.

    That’s the person I hope you’re becoming.

    Love,
    me

  • so, what is the noise?

    so, what is the noise?

    I guess the easiest place to start is with who I am. I’m an alcoholic and an addict, and today I’m three days sober. My sobriety date is August 21, 2026. That’s obviously not all I am. I’m a son, a brother, a friend. I’m gay. I have a career and a life that, from the outside, can look pretty normal and put together. Behind closed doors, I’ve been struggling for a long time.

    That’s where after the noise comes from. The noise is drinking, drugs, going out, anxiety, shame, bad decisions, apologies and the constant chaos inside my own head. I’ve spent a lot of time either running toward something or trying to escape something. I’m starting to wonder what my life could look like without all of that noise.

    Today is Day 3. I’m exhausted, emotional and still hurting from what brought me here. But today I went to a meeting. I listened. I prayed. I came home and slept. I’m trying to be a little kinder to myself and accept that maybe that’s enough for today.

    I’ve wanted to start a blog since I was a kid, so this is it. I don’t want this to only be about addiction. I want it to be about recovery, family, being gay, getting older, finding new hobbies, figuring out what actually makes me happy and all the ordinary stuff in between.

    I don’t know what happens next. But I’m sober today, I’m here, and I guess that’s where this starts.