12.29.25
I survived Christmas! And not in the dramatic, barely holding it together way, actually sober, present, and awake. In 2024, I was fresh out of rehab and still relearning how to function in the real world, so I count this as my first real sober holiday season. I didn’t die and I didn’t implode. That alone matters more than my brain wants to admit. Showing up conscious instead of coping is a huge win.
I tried to stay busy with work, service, and fellowship, but not so busy that I tipped myself into exhaustion and emotional chaos. Monday night was good, I’m still getting used to chairing the meeting. I chose people-pleasing and self-worth for the topic. Sobriety has shown me that my people-pleasing was never been about kindness. It was about fear and control. Trying to manage how others see me, so I don’t have to sit with insecurity. That realization stung because it’s accurate. People-pleasing isn’t humility, it’s fear dressed up to look noble.
A friend joked about trying to be “King Shit of Fuck Mountain,” we all laughed but it has a lot of validity. Another shared about the hero complex. Same nerve. Addicts are professionals at focusing on other people, so we don’t have to look too long in the mirror. Ego doesn’t disappear in sobriety, it just gets better language. Catching it mid-act is growth, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Two men I deeply admire in their sobriety shared things that stood out to me. One talked about the Philosophy of Quiet Independence, something I made a note to read more about. The other reminded us that we need to learn how to accept compliments, no matter how hard that is. Quiet independence isn’t isolation. It’s self-trust without performance. And accepting compliments is letting truth land without swatting it away. That’s not weakness. That’s maturity.
Christmas Eve was intentionally mellow. I took myself to dinner after work and then went to my meeting. No chaos. No proving. That was self-respect in action, even if it felt simple.
Christmas Day started great. I was chipper, in a good mood. By noon, I was staring straight at self-pity. Something shared the night before kept replaying in my head. Sobriety allows us to spend time with our loved ones, but some of us still go home alone at night because of decisions made in active addiction. Cue the downward spiral. Old me would have unpacked and lived there.
Instead, I did the smartest thing I could think of…naptime! When I woke up, I felt a little better. Here in Idaho we say if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. My emotions work the same way. I can feel polar opposite moods in the same hour. Feelings are weather, not instructions. I waited it out instead of rebuilding my entire life around a passing storm.
I put my big-girl panties on, fuck at my age, maybe depends, cooked the green beans, and went to Dylan’s family’s house. I watched Kendall and Dylan open presents, ate an incredible prime rib dinner, and enjoyed being around a beautiful family. I was there but sometimes it felt like I was looking in through a window. I’m not complaining. I want Kendall exactly where she is in her life, and I want her to cherish every minute of it. This is grief without resentment. Acceptance without self-destruction.
Friday was back to work for just one day, but the normalcy was welcome. The week ended with a surprise visit from my Mama. I knew she was coming, but it was last-minute, and I didn’t realize how much I needed this time with her. This is one of the quiet gifts sobriety brings, no fireworks, roots.
What matters most to me from this past week is that I didn’t numb. I didn’t run. I didn’t burn anything down. I felt everything and stayed sober anyway. I didn’t just survive the holiday, I’m rebuilding my life with eyes wide open.
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