Re-imagining the dreams we hold
in a world that’s grieving
When I was deep in despair in early recovery (yes, for me, sobriety did not bring instant peace), there was a vision I had of the life I wanted.
It was a simple dream: To wake up on Saturday mornings and make pancakes for my kids.
Sometimes I’d lie in bed awake at night, weeping, yearning. I wanted a family, children, a husband, sometimes so bad it ached.
I could almost smell the syrup. Feel the heat emanating from the pan. See the melted butter turn to pools.
By thirty years old, this dream felt far away even as I pursued new dreams, a career, helping other women in recovery.
It wasn’t until over a decade later when I was making pancakes, my kids watching cartoons in the other room, that it hit me.
My life had caught up to my dreams.
This simple vision was now my reality, and I was overcome, overwhelmed, by gratitude.
What are your dreams re-imagined?
Even during times of pain and dreams deferred, we can find purpose and joy.
We can find something unexpected.
Even as I waited for the life I have now, I continued on. I worked hard. Found purpose in recovery. Kept going.
What have you gained that’s been unexpected in life or recovery?
Maybe you discovered empathy where there once was anger. Maybe you stopped needing to be right all the time.
Maybe you finally realized that protecting your peace doesn’t make you selfish, it makes you wise.
Maybe you gained something unexpected in the waiting and maybe that’s the whole point.
You didn’t ask for the delayed dreams, but you did something brave with it. You became someone more grounded, more open, more capable of holding space for others and for yourself.
You don’t need to romanticize the hard times to find value in them. You just need to look honestly. Because sometimes, the most important parts of us aren’t forged in the victories, but in the dark.
So, reimagine your story.
Not as a tale of loss or failure, but as the moment you begin to see yourself more clearly.
The moment you realize: I am still here. And I am not who I was.
Are you wiser now?
More discerning?
Do you love differently? Slower? More carefully? With less urgency to prove and more intention to understand?
Somewhere in the middle of everything that almost broke you, have you found or are finding something unshakable: a version of yourself, you actually love?
Maybe that’s the unexpected gift: not just surviving but discovering who you’ve become along the way.
You’re not defined by what you lost, but by the strengths you uncovered and the wisdom you gathered. Every setback, every quiet morning, every hard moment has shaped a deeper resilience inside you.
This is how we re-imagine the stories we hold:
We choose to see the growth beneath the grief, the courage behind the scars, and the love that still lingers even after the storm.
So, as you move forward, I hope you’ll pause—just for a moment—and honor the unexpected things you’ve gained.
Glimmers in the dark.
The grit and grace. The ability to find joy in ordinary moments, like laughter drifting through a kitchen or the scent of blueberries in the air.
You are still here.
And you’re becoming more yourself with every chapter.
Read more at Circle of Chairs
Subscribe to Circle of Chairs
Addiction recovery expert and author, Caroline Beidler, MSW explores facets of recovery like mental health, supporting loved ones with addiction, trauma, and more. Pull up a chair.
