This arrived, showed up as the first post for me to read today, because it was meant for me to see it, read it and breathe through it. I'm right smack in the middle of this as I try to heal from my divorce, my daughter leaving home, the loss of my job (so I'm building a business) and now, the grief of my father laying in a hospice bed ready to leave this earth while his body holds on. My mother drowning in her sorrow since they were together for 56 years. She knows no life without him. Neither do I. All this while for the first time not using all the numbing things I've used in the past, food, alcohol, distraction, busyness, running away. It is brutal and I was just sitting here feeling so alone and thinking how do people do this? Where are the people who have lived through this? What do I do? And I know the answer. I do nothing. I feel it. I cry. I don't hide. And yes, I try to keep living the best I can. One foot in front of the other. Grief is something we don't talk about enough and I started talking to my mom about it yesterday, knowing what's coming for her. I'm also doing the Grief Recovery Handbook with my best friend right now to try to help me navigate these times. Above all, I want to say thank you for putting this into the world today so I don't feel so alone. It is truly a gift. My heart thanks you!
Thank you for speaking the truth. My first year of sobriety was hell. I felt raw, emotionally and physically. My divorce was healing but painful. There is joy after a time, but that can take decades. Still, I’d rather heal than not.
Yes, every real change process hurts. The growth pains are real. Becoming someone new means unlearning habits your brain has automated for years. That makes progress feel painfully slow. But over time it gets easier and once you’ve been through it, you know the next change is worth the struggle.
"You lost a version of yourself that believed in something." So true and hard, but essential, to face. Those illusions were like armor, protective but so heavy they dragged me down. Learning to believe in myself, instead, by keeping my promises and treating my mind and body with respect has enabled me to recover from betrayals I thought would break me, to soar above rather than wallow in grief. Thank you so much for all this wisdom and inspiration! 🙏🏻
I woke up this morning after tossing and turning wondering when I’d be ‘back to myself’. Wondering what was ‘wrong’ with me? Then I read your piece in my email and through tears, I saw the truth. The truth I needed to hear. I am not going ‘crazy’. I am healing. Physically from major surgery after being tossed from doctor to doctor for a year and finally getting the help I needed. Mentally from the shock of the surgery. Emotionally from the wounds of the past both emotional and physical. And as my sweet, supportive husband keeps telling me: it takes time. Time to slowly find myself again, alive and free.
This is a masterclass in naming the truth nobody else wants to say. Grief as the shadow side of healing it’s brutal, unflinching, and real. Thank you for holding space for the messy, raw parts of recovery and reminding us that survival isn’t just enduring, it’s choosing to live fully despite everything. ✨
I loved this article, Cody, and it all rings true. Since I was 14, I’ve used substances to numb out my trauma. It’s probably knocked years off my life, times I could have spent with my children and future grandchildren. Things are better now, but I grieve that the most.
This was beautifully written, it didn’t just speak to me, it confronted me. A reminder that chaos isn’t safety, and survival isn’t the same as healing.
This lands with a raw honesty that most writing on healing avoids. I feel it in my own body: the truth that getting better often feels like a string of funerals. Each illusion laid down like a coffin. Each goodbye a wound that doesn’t close quickly.
What I keep asking myself is: how do we walk this grief without mistaking it for failure? Because grief is not a sign we’re losing, it’s the proof that something mattered, that something inside us still refuses to go numb.
Being present is so scary! How do people live this way? In my life , my
Mother lived in a fantasy world, as did my siblings. I was the one who saw what was really going on - and it was not pretty!
Because I declared “the emperor has no clothes”, I became the one who was whipped. I stood my ground until I didn’t.
Your description of the process of seeing the present differently is really apt. For me, it was about seeing the forest for the trees and knowing that I could choose what direction to take, what people to have in my life and to walk away to a life that suited me better. I no longer had to protect my mother or take the beatings, I could stand my ground or leave the process behind.
My biggest challenge was/is what is healthy? What constitutes a good relationship (friends, romance) and where do I learn about this?
Cody, this series is really revealing and honest. Knowing that I’m not alone in figuring all of this out is enlightening. Thank you for your honesty.
Thanks Cody, I feel better for you sharing your thoughts today… yes, healing does feel like grief, I’ve never given it that precise label before. It’s good to know someone feels the same
Oh I so understand what you are saying , I have given up my pain relief at different times of my life and some times were easier , as when I was younger with small children that preferred by unmediated self,
and I received enough pluses to soften the mental states no longer controlled by alcohol, but I ventured back into my old ways but tempered now that I have grown old(er) ha
There are two of me , and I do like, and hate them both , both give rewards and punishments
I wish you the very best , I believe there is a bit of magic that is needed to overcome addiction besides what else we do and that just shows up sometimes and is a gift if you can accept it, I hope the magic finds you
It asks you to feel the betrayal. It asks you to sit with the grief instead of running from it.” I needed to read this today. The whole thing. Thank you.
This arrived, showed up as the first post for me to read today, because it was meant for me to see it, read it and breathe through it. I'm right smack in the middle of this as I try to heal from my divorce, my daughter leaving home, the loss of my job (so I'm building a business) and now, the grief of my father laying in a hospice bed ready to leave this earth while his body holds on. My mother drowning in her sorrow since they were together for 56 years. She knows no life without him. Neither do I. All this while for the first time not using all the numbing things I've used in the past, food, alcohol, distraction, busyness, running away. It is brutal and I was just sitting here feeling so alone and thinking how do people do this? Where are the people who have lived through this? What do I do? And I know the answer. I do nothing. I feel it. I cry. I don't hide. And yes, I try to keep living the best I can. One foot in front of the other. Grief is something we don't talk about enough and I started talking to my mom about it yesterday, knowing what's coming for her. I'm also doing the Grief Recovery Handbook with my best friend right now to try to help me navigate these times. Above all, I want to say thank you for putting this into the world today so I don't feel so alone. It is truly a gift. My heart thanks you!
Thank you for speaking the truth. My first year of sobriety was hell. I felt raw, emotionally and physically. My divorce was healing but painful. There is joy after a time, but that can take decades. Still, I’d rather heal than not.
Yes, every real change process hurts. The growth pains are real. Becoming someone new means unlearning habits your brain has automated for years. That makes progress feel painfully slow. But over time it gets easier and once you’ve been through it, you know the next change is worth the struggle.
"You lost a version of yourself that believed in something." So true and hard, but essential, to face. Those illusions were like armor, protective but so heavy they dragged me down. Learning to believe in myself, instead, by keeping my promises and treating my mind and body with respect has enabled me to recover from betrayals I thought would break me, to soar above rather than wallow in grief. Thank you so much for all this wisdom and inspiration! 🙏🏻
I woke up this morning after tossing and turning wondering when I’d be ‘back to myself’. Wondering what was ‘wrong’ with me? Then I read your piece in my email and through tears, I saw the truth. The truth I needed to hear. I am not going ‘crazy’. I am healing. Physically from major surgery after being tossed from doctor to doctor for a year and finally getting the help I needed. Mentally from the shock of the surgery. Emotionally from the wounds of the past both emotional and physical. And as my sweet, supportive husband keeps telling me: it takes time. Time to slowly find myself again, alive and free.
This is a masterclass in naming the truth nobody else wants to say. Grief as the shadow side of healing it’s brutal, unflinching, and real. Thank you for holding space for the messy, raw parts of recovery and reminding us that survival isn’t just enduring, it’s choosing to live fully despite everything. ✨
I loved this article, Cody, and it all rings true. Since I was 14, I’ve used substances to numb out my trauma. It’s probably knocked years off my life, times I could have spent with my children and future grandchildren. Things are better now, but I grieve that the most.
This was beautifully written, it didn’t just speak to me, it confronted me. A reminder that chaos isn’t safety, and survival isn’t the same as healing.
This lands with a raw honesty that most writing on healing avoids. I feel it in my own body: the truth that getting better often feels like a string of funerals. Each illusion laid down like a coffin. Each goodbye a wound that doesn’t close quickly.
What I keep asking myself is: how do we walk this grief without mistaking it for failure? Because grief is not a sign we’re losing, it’s the proof that something mattered, that something inside us still refuses to go numb.
Ooh, distinguishing between grief and failure. That's a good point.
Being present is so scary! How do people live this way? In my life , my
Mother lived in a fantasy world, as did my siblings. I was the one who saw what was really going on - and it was not pretty!
Because I declared “the emperor has no clothes”, I became the one who was whipped. I stood my ground until I didn’t.
Your description of the process of seeing the present differently is really apt. For me, it was about seeing the forest for the trees and knowing that I could choose what direction to take, what people to have in my life and to walk away to a life that suited me better. I no longer had to protect my mother or take the beatings, I could stand my ground or leave the process behind.
My biggest challenge was/is what is healthy? What constitutes a good relationship (friends, romance) and where do I learn about this?
Cody, this series is really revealing and honest. Knowing that I’m not alone in figuring all of this out is enlightening. Thank you for your honesty.
Everything here is facts!!!! You'll never truly overstand unless you go through it. Geez em' peas...I know to much about this journey 😭😆
Thanks Cody, I feel better for you sharing your thoughts today… yes, healing does feel like grief, I’ve never given it that precise label before. It’s good to know someone feels the same
You’re not alone.
…Oh, and likewise!
Phew! 😮💨😬
Thank you for reflecting the reality of this.
Oh I so understand what you are saying , I have given up my pain relief at different times of my life and some times were easier , as when I was younger with small children that preferred by unmediated self,
and I received enough pluses to soften the mental states no longer controlled by alcohol, but I ventured back into my old ways but tempered now that I have grown old(er) ha
There are two of me , and I do like, and hate them both , both give rewards and punishments
I wish you the very best , I believe there is a bit of magic that is needed to overcome addiction besides what else we do and that just shows up sometimes and is a gift if you can accept it, I hope the magic finds you
“Healing demands everything.
It asks you to feel the betrayal. It asks you to sit with the grief instead of running from it.” I needed to read this today. The whole thing. Thank you.
Healing is painful. But the release brings peace.