Get in the Herd

11.15.25

Isolation was one of the biggest red flags I watched for when I came home from rehab. I’d spent years perfecting being alone, and by the end of my drinking, I was basically a hermit with a liquor delivery schedule. In my mind, I thought my excuses were airtight. Looking back now, it’s pretty obvious everyone saw right through the horse-shit stories I was spinning.

I was completely willing to kill myself drink by drink in my own little cave of despair. That’s what scared me most when I got sober. It would be so easy to slip right back into that lonely, familiar place. So I forced myself to go to in person meetings. At first, I barely said a word. I’d sit, listen, and soak in whatever wisdom I could grab.

Little by little, I started talking. I started saying hi to people, even though I would have preferred poking my eyeballs with tiny needles. I kept hearing people talk about staying in the middle of the herd, and it finally clicked. Staying sober meant staying connected, even when every part of me wanted to stay small and silent.

Most of the time when I share, I still don’t feel like I’m offering anything helpful. But it helps me and I can hope it helps someone else. Getting things off my chest keeps me from slipping backwards. The friendships I’ve built in the rooms have become one of the most unexpected gifts of sobriety. There’s a bond. A kind of quiet, unspoken comfort you only get with people who truly get it.

I didn’t know how much I needed that until I had it. Now I don’t want to lose it.