I spent the better part of my life covering up the parts of me that I believed were “too much.” Overly emotional. Extremely sensitive. Needy to the point of annoyance. Completely broken. I would wear a mask of being strong, because I thought that was the only way I could survive. However, a strange thing happened during recovery. I very slowly and with great insistence had to face the very parts that I had suppressed.
Though it was difficult at the beginning, almost like living with an enemy inside me. I had no clue how to accept the feelings without numbing them or refusing them. Quietness was an alien experience. Being open felt like putting oneself at risk. Nevertheless, the meetings, the talking, the understanding head movements from those who no longer demanded perfection, and those moments gave me the lesson of a lifetime that to heal is not to become a different person. It is about embracing the person I have always been.
I understood that the parts I had hidden were not to be ashamed of. They were just parts of me that had not yet been healed.
When I got sober, the first thing I did was to give myself the permission to grieve. It was the first time ever I said the words that I never could bring myself to whisper. I was also able to admit the wounds I had kept hidden for so long. I came to realize that my strength wasn’t coming from keeping my pain inside but it was the other way around and it led to isolation. And so, I started gradually to step in brighter side of the pain, bringing to light the pieces of me that I hid to pieces I exposed.
Accepting My Vulnerability
On some days, it was like holding a fragile thing and not breaking it. On other days, it was like opening up to myself the inner parts I abandoned years ago.
I started to inquire:
Is it maybe that my sensitivity is a great thing?
Is it maybe that my vulnerability is the one that makes me open and not weak?
Is it maybe that the parts I have hidden so far are actually waiting to lead me back to where I belong?
It was after going through some talks with fellow people in the same boat as me that I realized I wasn’t the only one. A lot of us in the group had been raised learning to conceal our own hurt, our fears, our own insecurities, and also sometimes our joy. Simply put, addiction came and liked all those things in dark places. Still, togetherness will grow in honesty. And no problem is going to stand when it’s time for truth.
Today I am teaching myself to accept and acknowledge every side of my personality; the loud ones, the shy ones, the scared ones and the hopeful ones. I am learning that self-acceptance is not a final point, but the relationship I have to remake every day.
Now I don’t criticize myself for needing comfort. I don’t apologize for being emotional. I don’t give in any longer so that others can feel at ease.
It’s slow work to heal these hidden parts – the process is tender and sacred at the same time.
Because…
Every time I choose honesty over hiding…
Every time I choose connection over withdrawal…
Every time I choose compassion over criticism…
…I give back a portion of my being which I had thought I lost forever.
Recovery was not only a life-saving, it was more of a self-restoring process. This, more than anything else, is the ultimate gift of this journey.
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We share real recovery stories while protecting the privacy of those who trust us with their experiences. Many personal details are adjusted or rewritten for clarity and to honor everyone’s voice, ensuring their truth is shared with care and respect.
