addiction recovery

Addiction is one of the most misunderstood illnesses of our time.

People love to debate it—Is it a choice? Is it a weakness? Why can’t they just stop?
But the truth is far less judgmental and far more human:

Addiction is a brain disorder rooted in trauma, emotional pain, and neurochemical imbalance — not a moral failure.

And the most hopeful part?

The brain can be rewired.
Healing is possible.
Recovery is a biological and spiritual transformation.

When Addiction Begins: The Brain Trying to Survive

Most people don’t pick up a substance because life is good.
They pick it up because something inside them hurts.

According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), 75% of individuals with addiction have experienced significant trauma in their lifetime (SAMHSA, 2023).

Trauma changes the brain.
Addiction changes it again.

What starts as emotional band-aids—relief, escape, numbness—quickly becomes a neurological loop:

1. The dopamine reward system becomes overstimulated.

2. Stress and threat circuits go into overdrive.

3. The prefrontal cortex (the “stop and think” part) weakens.

4. The brain begins to prioritize the substance over everything else, even survival.

This is why “just stop” has never been an effective treatment plan.

Is Addiction a Choice?

The research is clear:

The decision to use may begin as a choice.

Addiction itself is not.

Once the brain is rewired by repeated substance use, the person loses much of their ability to choose.

The National Institute on Drug Abuse describes addiction as a chronic, relapsing brain disorder that alters decision-making, impulse control, and self-regulation (NIDA, 2024).

If someone’s leg was broken, we wouldn’t ask them to run.
If someone’s brain is dysregulated, we shouldn’t expect them to “just quit.”

The Rewiring: How Recovery Actually Happens

Recovery isn’t just sobriety.
It’s the slow, powerful process of teaching the brain a new way to live.

1. Neuroplasticity — the brain’s ability to change

The same pathways that addiction hijacked can be reshaped through new habits, therapy, routine, and connection.

2. Trauma-informed healing

When people heal their trauma, their nervous system calms.
The urge to self-medicate decreases.

Safety replaces survival mode.

3. Community and connection

Humans heal in relationship.
Connection triggers oxytocin and stabilizes the stress response—two things essential for rewiring a recovering brain.

4. Time and consistency

Research shows it can take 12–18 months for dopamine systems to rebalance after chronic substance use (Harvard Health Publishing, 2022).
That doesn’t mean recovery is impossible before that—but it shows why grace is essential.

Healing is not linear.
But every day, every choice, every moment of awareness is building new neural pathways.

A Personal Reflection from the Journey

I used to blame myself for the chaos in my brain.

I thought addiction meant I was weak, broken, or unworthy.
But the more I learned, the more I realized

I wasn’t trying to destroy myself.

I was trying to survive a storm no one else could see.

Recovery for me wasn’t loud or pretty.

It wasn’t a single moment of clarity.

It was small shifts—
choosing stillness over escape,
choosing truth over numbing,
choosing myself when I didn’t even feel worth choosing.

Every day I rise,
I’m rewiring something inside me.

Teaching my brain a new way to breathe.

A new way to feel.
A new way to live.

The Bridge Between Who You Were and Who You’re Becoming

Recovery isn’t a destination.
It’s a rebuilding — neuron by neuron, breath by breath, day by day.

You’re not fighting addiction.
You’re rewiring your life.

You’re shaping a brain that can hold peace.

A heart that can hold joy.
A nervous system that can hold safety.

And no matter how many times you fall, relapse, restart, or rebuild, the truth never changes:

Healing is possible.
Rewiring is real.
And you are not your addiction — you are your recovery.

Bigmommaj
#AddictionRecovery #Addiction

I’ve learned a hard but important lesson: I no longer give my family my energy when it comes to how they talk about my mental health or the challenges they’ve caused in my life. I’ve set boundaries and told them—I don’t want to have this conversation.

The lesson I’ve learned is this: the people and resources we give our energy to, especially during certain times of the year, really matter. Why? Because our energy is finite. Every ounce spent on negativity, judgment, or drama is an ounce we can’t use for our healing, growth, or joy.

Choosing where to focus your attention isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. It’s saying, “I matter. My mental health matters. My peace matters.” And especially around the holidays, when emotions run high, protecting your energy isn’t just smart—it’s survival.

So this year, I’m holding space for my own well-being first, and letting go of conversations, people, and situations that deplete me. It feels like freedom. And honestly? That’s a gift I give myself.

#ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Neurodiversity #SubstanceRelatedDisorders #EatingDisorder #MentalHealth #Depression #ChronicFatigueSyndrome #AddictionRecovery #Anxiety

Yesterday was a shit day. But I didn’t have to visit the deepest, darkest corners of my despair.

Today, I can acknowledge every courageous, hesitant little shift I made. Every terrified, unsafe little step I took. Every time I dared to give in to a spark of hope.

I’m so grateful that we are not alone in this! Thank you for letting me share.

I wrote this poem carrying heavy grief in my heart and soul. Grief last a lifetime and in my deep sorrow, I write, I don't hide it away in the darkness, I shine light on it because it needs to be seen. I see your sorrow, too ❤️

-Eternal-

The eyes of heaven gaze down on wee
Beneath the starry sky
The whispers of the willow echos thy name
My heart releases a cry
I remember, I remember, I remember the love
Stained glass memory
Angel choir sings thereof
Painted images of past
Hast buried my mind unfree
Though dare not I paint over
But all is what connects mine to thee

#Grief #Bipolar1 #BipolarDepression #PTSD #ComplexPosttraumaticStressDisorder #Depression #Addiction #AddictionRecovery #Caregiving

How wild is it that I carried you under my skin, heartbeat synced to heartbeat, and now I can’t even string the right words together to reach you? I built you cell by cell, bone and breath, and here we are strangers in the same bloodline.

The cruelest ache isn’t anger. It’s loving someone so hard it rattles your ribs, while biting it back because you’re terrified you’ll get it wrong, terrify them, push them further. Loving from the sidelines like some ghost parent. Screaming silently: I love you. Please hear it. Please believe me.

And somehow that love louder than any storm, still feels locked in my chest.

I get it. You weren’t raised by me. You didn’t grow up experiencing my bipolar morning rituals and phases of “I need coffee first” and the “I’m not a coffee drinker”, you don’t know that I just have a natural “resting bitch face” or that sarcasm is how I cope, you’ve never got to see just how bubbly I really can be. How is it that not even one percent of you seems to carry any of my traits? None of my quirks, my stubborn grin, my quick-fire humor. Just an empty mirror when I look at you, hunting for myself.

I’ll never tell you this, but I am terrified of you. I walk on eggshells around my own child, trying not to say the thing that lights the fuse. Most days I pull back, skip the texts, dodge the moment, because I don’t want to step up and “parent” you and risk the explosion. Even asking you to pick up after yourself feels like lighting a match in a dry field.

It’s shameful to admit I avoid my own kid because of fear. The silence between us is heavy, like there’s a glass wall I can’t break without cutting both of us to ribbons. I don’t know if this is what redemption is supposed to feel like. Watching you drift farther while my chest caves in with love I can’t safely hand you.

I pray so hard that the anger and hurt you carry loosens its grip on you. Even for just a breath, a heartbeat. The anger you carry is louder, heavier, more expressive than anything I’ve ever known, and it scares me. I look at you and see a spark in your eyes that tells me, without hesitation, you could hurt me. That some part of you even wants to. I never dreamed the person I’d fear most in my life would be a human I once carried inside of me.

I keep wondering if you’ll ever see how much I’ve fought for sobriety, for stability, for a life I can hand you with open palms. I wonder if the years I wasn’t there carved out a canyon too deep to cross.

All I know is that I still love you messy, terrified, clumsy love that refuses to die, even when I’m too scared to reach for your hand.