Hello World!
Tough times don’t last, tough people do. – Robert Schuller
My name is Ciana ‘Ci’, and I am an alcoholic. I’ve struggled with addiction for most of my life. As a teenager I experimented with drugs and alcohol but was always able to stop using drugs without any significant withdrawals or impact. Alcohol on the other hand, was not so easy.
I’ve maintained sobriety in the past for long periods of time but always given in to ‘one drink’. For those of us suffering from addiction you know that one drink is too many, and one more is never enough. I wanted this time to be different, I needed this time to be different, because no matter how much I lied to myself and tried to lie to everyone else, I could see the effects in every aspect of my life.
So, I went to rehab! I started journaling as part of my daily routine in rehab. I kept thinking about something I heard there that really resonated with me. I watched a recording of Brene Brown who said, “One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what you went through, and it will be someone else’s survival guide.” I don’t know if this blog will become someone else’s survival guide or just my journal to reflect back on later, I will be stronger for it either way.
May you be sober and happy always! Ci
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Long-Lost Spark
8.13.25 I’ve been looking for a new service position — something where I can put my assets to good use — and what do you know, one just fell right into my lap. I’m kind of buzzing about it. The first committee meeting is in a few weeks and I can’t wait to jump in
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The Promises, Alive
8.12.25 Using the skills and tools, working the 12 Steps, going to counseling—doing all the things I’ve been determined to do—has brought the 9th Step Promises to life for me. This is what I’ve been seeking. The inner peace and serenity I feel now makes every ounce of hard work worth it. I’m not saying
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Piece by Piece
8.11.25 The argument between fear and pride eased as the words of the Step moved from my head to my heart. For the first time in years, I opened my box of paints and poured out an honest rage—an explosion of reds, blacks, and yellows. Looking at the drawing, tears of joy and relief streamed
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Grounding Myself
8.10.25 I needed a day at home to ground myself—to rest, recharge, and breathe. No meetings. No phone calls to catch up with family, except Kendall. Just quiet. I felt only a tiny twinge of guilt for keeping the world at arm’s length, but it faded quickly. I even braved the weed eater, which turned