by RE Helper | Mar 15, 2026 | Alcohol Free, Blog, Early Sobriety, Helpful Tips
What If Recovery Isn’t About What Works — But What Fits?
By Brian Miller
For a long time, I believed there was a right way to get sober. I believed that if I waited until I was truly ready, if I approached recovery seriously and with respect, the solution would reveal itself. I believed that when the time came, something would click. The cravings would fade. The noise would quiet. The relief people talked about would arrive — what I didn’t yet understand was that recovery isn’t one-size-fits-all, and that alternative paths to recovery are sometimes necessary.
When the “Right” Way to Get Sober Doesn’t Work
I held out hope that AA would be that solution.
Because I respected it, I kept AA in my back pocket. I told myself I wasn’t ready yet. Not disciplined enough. Not desperate enough. I didn’t want to half-commit. I wanted to do it right. In my mind, I held AA out like a light on the horizon, something that would save me when the time was right.
When that time finally came, I walked into the rooms expecting something to change. “I’m Brian, and I’m an alcoholic,” I said aloud. There. I’d done it. Now the change would come.
It didn’t.
It wasn’t just one meeting. For more than a decade, I went to meetings. I listened carefully. Along the way, I followed the language and the stories. I met men who would walk through fire to help me get sober. And still, I kept waiting for the magic people describe, the internal shift where alcohol finally loosens its grip.
But the cravings didn’t fade.
The pull toward drinking didn’t weaken.
The noise in my head didn’t quiet.
What I felt instead was desperation.
The Fear of Doing Everything Right and Still Feeling Stuck
There’s a particular kind of fear that sets in when you do the thing everyone says works and it doesn’t work for you. Not because you’re resisting it. Not because you’re doing it halfway. But because, for reasons you can’t explain, it simply doesn’t land.
That fear is isolating. Because if this isn’t the answer, then what is?
I didn’t leave AA angry. I left confused — and wondering what that said about me.
Was I doing it wrong? Was I incapable of recovery? Or was there something fundamentally broken in me? The hardest part wasn’t that AA didn’t work for me. It was the silence that followed, the feeling that I had tried the responsible, accepted path and come up empty.
Over time, I realized that what I was experiencing wasn’t resistance or failure. It was a lack of orientation. I was doing what I believed I was supposed to do, in rooms that felt closed off and heavy, waiting for clarity to arrive.
Most of the meetings I attended took place in basements. Church basements. Windowless rooms beneath everything else. I remember sitting there, listening, hoping that something would eventually lift. That the darkness would break. That a sense of direction would appear.
For some people, those rooms become a place of relief and transformation. For me, they felt static. Not unsafe. Not hostile. Just unmoving. I wasn’t angry and I wasn’t rebelling. I simply couldn’t see a way forward.
When Alternative Paths to Recovery Become Necessary
That realization didn’t send me back to drinking. It sent me searching. Not for an easier answer, but for one that allowed me to orient myself again. One that offered some sense of movement, even if it came slowly and without certainty. I wasn’t rejecting recovery — I was learning that alternative paths to recovery were sometimes necessary when the first answers didn’t land.
Once the “right” way failed me, I started trying everything. Therapy. Medication. Books. Discipline. Conversations that scared me. Ideas that didn’t quite fit but felt worth exploring. I wasn’t looking for an easier way out — I was looking for a way forward.
Which effort would help, or whether any of them would, wasn’t clear. I only knew that staying where I was wasn’t an option.
Looking back, I can see that this was where my recovery actually began. Not in a dramatic moment of surrender, but in a long stretch of uncomfortable effort. Quiet work. Trial and error. Persistence without validation.
When I finally stopped drinking, it felt sudden to outsiders. To me, it felt inevitable. Like something I had been building toward for years without realizing it.
Sobriety didn’t arrive with fireworks. It arrived quietly, and it stayed.
Getting sober wasn’t about finding the right program, but about discovering what works for you in recovery — often through alternative paths to recovery. It was about refusing to stop trying when the first answer didn’t work.
I’m sharing this because I know there are people reading who are doing everything they’re “supposed” to do and still feel stuck. People who are earnest, serious, and willing, but terrified that nothing is working.
If that’s you, I want you to hear this clearly: struggling doesn’t mean you’re incapable of recovery. It may simply mean you haven’t found the right shape for it yet.
I explored this idea more deeply in The View from a Windowless Basement, a book about recovery for people who didn’t hit rock bottom but still knew something had to change.
If you tried to get sober the way you were taught and it didn’t work, you’re not alone. And you’re not done!
Brian Miller is a husband, father, and entrepreneur who has been sober since May 16, 2022. After years of trying to quit drinking through traditional paths that never quite worked for him, he began exploring other ways to build a life without alcohol. He writes honestly about long-term sobriety, persistence, and what it looks like to keep going when the first answers don’t land. He is also the author of The View from a Windowless Basement.
by RE Helper | Feb 15, 2026 | Alcohol Free, Blog, Healing, Miscarriage, Moms in Recovery, Womens health
Today’s blog entry is from Hali Morehouse. Hali is a member of Café RE.
Where Heartbreak Meets Redemption: A Story of Miscarriage, Faith, and Sobriety
By: Hali Morehouse
There I am—sitting in the brown chair, awaiting the doctor’s arrival, unaware that this moment would mark the beginning of a journey through miscarriage and sobriety. From the outside, one might see the image of a young woman who appears calm, confident, healthy, and mentally stable—never realizing that the upcoming conversation is about to crack her soul wide open and leave her heart broken, crumbled, and lost in the wilderness of the unknown.
I could see it in the doctor’s eyes—in her posture, her tone of voice, and in the way she carried the information throughout our conversation. Contained within the questions, concerns, and curiosity she expressed, the word miscarriage was the boulder that became the riverblock in my never-ending flow of life.
As that ten-letter word found its place inside my ears, the beats within my chest began to pound. Louder and louder—like a drum set being played inside a closed room. For a brief moment, my world began to spin. I could feel sweat forming in my palms as I nervously played with the rings on my fingers.
There it goes.
No pause. Only raw, deep, unfiltered tears. The internal dam burst wide open—broken into the smallest particles of rubble. Eyes red. Mildly bloodshot. My heart still pounding.
The Waiting, the Body, and Miscarriage and Sobriety
Gathering my personal items with all the strength I could muster, I walked down two flights of stairs to my next destination—the laboratory for a blood test. After placing my belongings in their designated spots, I sat once again in a thick, brown chair.
The internal waterfall, deep in the crevice of my soul, cried out to be released. It took every ounce of energy to pull back—to contain what felt like an ever-lasting flow—to place that dreadful STOP sign in front of my heart.
For the first time I can remember, my veins were visible—for the world to see, or in this case, for the nurses to see. A storm building. Bubbling violently.
Time slowed once that small yet powerful needle entered my arm. I tried—oh, how I tried—to engage in active conversation. But uncertainty filled the space. The unknown lingered. My vision and thoughts grew cloudy, as if I had entered a temporary black cloud.
Then, just as quickly, the needle was removed. A Band-Aid placed over the spot where my world shifted.
When Loss Becomes Real
That dreadful period—the waiting game from hell—where your heart pounds harder and harder, like sitting in the front row of a rock concert. External vibrations paired with internal panic, enough to bring a person to their knees. Unable to breathe. Unable to see clearly.
Oh, the dread. The devastating, anxiety-inducing dread.
My insides twisted into an absolute knot. I felt nauseous, though vomiting never came. As moments passed, my self-awareness heightened.
After the appointment, my fiancé and I headed home. Suddenly, my body felt different. A pinching—almost poking—sensation below my abdomen, deep within my pelvic region. Not painful, just noticeable. Stirring.
Once home, I went to the restroom.
And then it happened.
Blood—about the size of a small lemon—had left my body.
In that instant, my physical body entered a different realm. Where firmness and fullness had existed only moments before, there was now softness. Emptiness. Pure emptiness.
The Confirmation
The emptiness was indescribable.
Then—ding.
A notification from MyChart appeared on my phone. I opened the app and saw that my test results had arrived. Dread and panic returned instantly.
Based on my symptoms and the bleeding, a super-early miscarriage had either taken place or was coming to an end. The early signs of pregnancy I once felt had disappeared.
It was like watching a magician pull a rabbit from a hat—except there was no applause. No fascination. No joy.
Only fog.
My mind clouded with confusion, frustration, and deep sadness.
Faith in the Midst of Grief
In my 33 years of lived experience, I’ve learned there is no way to prepare for the tragedies, tribulations, trials, devastation, and loss that exist in this lifetime—the suffering that comes with living on this side of Heaven.
I am not promised an easy life.
But I am promised that I am never alone.
Through the darkest valleys, the highest mountaintops, the deepest oceans, and the strongest storms—I have remained, and will continue to remain, anchored to the foundation of my faith.
Miscarriage and Sobriety Are Not a Straight Line
Two days have passed since receiving the heartbreaking news of our miscarriage. In recovery, it is often said that miscarriage and sobriety are both non-linear journeys—and this truth deserves the highest regard.
Whether navigating recovery, returning to faith, or searching for light while walking through loss, a straight and narrow line is nowhere to be found. Expecting linearity to appear like a bright, flashing sign only creates roadblocks—or gravel roads—toward self-detriment.
Healing Through Community
One truth remains: when navigating miscarriage and sobriety, we cannot walk this path alone.
We were not created to journey in isolation. We are meant to embrace the gift—the blessing—the sacred gem of community.
The opposite of addiction is connection.
That connection arrived in my life through a global tribe: Café RE. As a fellow warrior within this community, I have laid my soul bare. I have shared from the darkest places of my heart. I have exposed my vulnerability completely—and in return, I have received unconditional love, compassion, grace, empathy, encouragement, and support from others who have faced their own battlefields and demons.
Choosing Belonging Over Fitting In
When we choose to stop trying to fit in with the outside world and instead discover the beauty of belonging, the right people will find us.
All we must do is remain still.
Honest.
Transparent.
Open-minded.
Willing to be vulnerable.
This is the magic of community.
“Sharing your story isn’t just a nice idea. It’s a neural intervention.”
Touch the Sky — Hillsong UNITED
by RE Helper | Dec 15, 2025 | Alcohol Free, Blog, Helpful Tips, Uncategorized
Today’s blog entry is from Sher Bailey. Sher is a member of Café RE.
It’s Never Too Late to Quit Drinking: Better Late Than Never
By: Sher Bailey
Now seven months sober, I ask the question: How did I quit drinking? After trying so many things for so many years, what finally worked? I used to wonder if it was too late for me, but I’ve learned it’s never too late to quit drinking. While I’m not sure of the answer, I am hoping others on the sobriety journey can be helped by my suggestions. I am surprised at how many things I tried.
Listening to podcasts
Starting in 2015, I listened to thousands of podcasts from countless sources. No surprise that Paul’s Recovery Elevator was one of my first and still my favorite. A few years later, I started listening to Rachel Hart’s Take a Break from Drinking and more recently Deb Master’s Alcohol Tipping Point. I am in the habit of listening to podcasts while walking/jogging every day. Some times, I keep my Air Pods in while I run errands or make dinner.
Reading quit lit
I love to read, and I focused on my favorite subject: sobriety. I read Paul’s Alcohol is Sh!t, Holly Whitaker’s Quit Like a Woman, Byron Katie’s The Truth Behind Addiction and Laura McKowen’s We are the Luckiest and Push Off From Here. (I highly recommend the audio versions of both of Laura’s books Her story is full of pain and vulnerability, and her voice is too.) You name it, I read it. Seriously.
Therapy
For years, every time I walked in to a physician or therapist office the first words out of my mouth were “I drink every day and often too much.” I usually left with only the suggestion that I cut back or quit, but no real ideas on how. I tried two therapists who said they would use Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) to address childhood trauma and the resulting depression and anxiety. I hoped by dealing with the underlying causes, my urge to drink would subside. But rather than experimenting with EMDR, I ended up doing talk therapy, a continuation of what I’d done off and on for decades.
Meditation/Hypnosis
Wise Monkey Way and Hypnozio are apps that talk you through meditations and hypnoses to curb the urge to drink. I listened to the Hypnozio recordings every day upon awakening for several months. But there was no immediate result. In addition to reading Holly Whitaker’s Quit Like a Woman, I listened to her 30 Days to a New Relationship with Alcohol on Audible. In this, Holly provides a 5-minute message or mantra that I listened to each morning and then, for the remainder of the day, thought about or meditated on. The messages include “I am allowed to say no” and “I allow myself to be surprised.” My very favorite of the series: “A part of me knows how to do this.”
My family
I can’t leave out the fact that in the past several years, my two adult sons and my husband got sober. At first their sobriety made me dig in with my drinking — just because they were now sober, didn’t mean I had to be.
Their sobriety planted seeds in me, even when I didn’t realize it. It reminded me that it’s never too late to quit drinking.
When you least expect it
And then one day, just before my 71st birthday (that’s right, 71), I realized I was no longer interested in drinking. That moment taught me it’s never too late to quit drinking. It was a Sunday, and the night before I’d had two or three vodka/sodas, which was a minimum for me. But when I went to bed, I experienced the spins and only avoided getting sick by going to sleep. I’ve never looked back. My first thought every morning is: I am grateful. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Other than when I was pregnant or taking a break for a few weeks here and there, I drank daily for 50 years. I had begun to feel that it was too late for me to quit. Besides, almost everyone I’d met or read were much, much younger than me. If that’s you, I’m happy that you will quit drinking with so much of your life ahead of you.
Everything counts
So what worked? I think it was everything. Convinced that hypnosis or therapy or all the other activities weren’t helping, I backed off even trying. And lo and behold, the cycle stopped.
I can’t say every day is easy but most are. When I think about having a drink, I play the tape forward, as so many people have suggested, and realize I don’t want to feel bad the next day because I so much enjoy waking up earlier, being fully-rested and ready for the day. Now I’d like to help others, no matter how young or old, enjoy sobriety too.
As in life, nothing you are doing or have done is a waste. Every podcast you hear, every word you read, every day you focus on drinking less or not at all holds meaning. It truly is never too late to quit drinking.
Because, after all, part of you knows how to do this.
by RE Helper | Mar 15, 2025 | Alcohol Free, Blog, Helpful Tips, Holidays
Today’s blog entry is from Steve Ellis. Steve is a member of Café RE.
Accepting Life on Life’s Terms
By: Steve Ellis
Accepting Life on Life’s Terms, January 19,2025
The Excitement of a Long-Awaited Trip
Sometimes, life has its own way of reminding us that no matter how much we plan, control is an illusion. This was one of those days. We woke up this morning, bright-eyed and excited, knowing the wife and I were taking a trip to Alaska from our home in Pennsylvania. The anticipation was palpable—we had been looking forward to this adventure for many months after Heather won the trip at a work event. Out trip package included Dog Sledding, two nights at one resort and another two nights at a ski resort near Anchorage with a Northern Lights excursion. What sealed the deal for us was two free round trip airline tickets were included in the package on Alaska Airlines from Philadelphia to Anchorage and back.
Weather Worries and an Optimistic Start
But as anyone who’s traveled knows, plans often change. And today, our travel story took a turn that no one could have predicted.
It all started with the weather. The forecast had warned us that conditions might be challenging because snow was predicted in our area calling for 3”-6” between 10am and 10pm typical weather prediction, but we figured we’d manage. After all, we were heading to Alaska, right? A place known for its unpredictable elements by its own right. But little did we know, the weather wouldn’t be the biggest hurdle of the day. Timing—good old timing—would take center stage. We left early enough to give us plenty of cushion for traffic and the elements. We left out house at 1:30pm for a 6:30pm flight.
Airport Delays and a Long Wait
We learned there was only one flight a day from Philly to Seattle connecting on to Alaska. However, the timing of our trip turned out to be much more than we bargained for. The check-in counter didn’t open until 4 p.m., two full hours later than we had anticipated. At least we weren’t in a rush, right? So we decided to grab a bite to eat. With 90 minutes to kill, we found a nearby place, hoping to relax before the flight.
After a satisfying meal without any alcohol and we had to sit at the bar, we returned to the airport with a little extra time on our hands. We checked in, handed over our bags, and received our boarding passes without a hitch. Feeling somewhat relieved, we proceeded through TSA and now found ourselves with another 90 minutes to kill before boarding.
We found a place to sit away from any bars, and noise. To pass the time I continued watching the Eagles game on my phone and Heather took the opportunity to nap.— We were in good spirits, knowing that, despite any delays we would remain calm and positive, we’d soon be boarding a plane headed for Alaska.
A Shocking Announcement at the Gate
Or so we thought.
After a few more rounds of game-watching and napping, we made our way to the gate. As we settled in, we got an unexpected announcement. Agent from the counter, would the Heather Ellis party come see me at the counter. We assumed it was a routine check-in, perhaps even an upgrade. But instead, we were told the most frustrating news: Agent, I’m sorry but your tickets aren’t valid.
Confusion and Frustration
How is that even possible?
Alaska Airlines had issued our boarding passes, taken our bags, and confirmed our flight. We had chosen our seats, ordered food, and were ready to go. How could our tickets suddenly be invalid? The agent didn’t have much of an explanation. She did try to help by contacting reservations. Despite our confusion, we were told we couldn’t board. They suggested we buy new tickets, but the problem was—our tickets were already purchased as part of a travel package. So, the idea of buying more tickets wasn’t just impractical; it was unnecessary.
After a lot of back-and-forth with the agent and even some conversations with reservations, we presented all our documents from the travel agent and vouchers ect. we came to a heartbreaking realization: there was no getting on that flight. We had no choice but to go home and, of course, this led to another round of frustration as we had to make our way to baggage claim.
The Journey Home in Disappointment
Another 45 minutes passed before we were reunited with our bags. Thank goodness for AirTags, or we might still be waiting to track them down. Once we got our luggage, it was time to figure out what to do next. Parking fees didn’t help the mood. We had already spent $28 for 7 hours of parking $65.00 for lunch and now we had to face the inevitable—driving home in snowy weather through traffic filled with possible drunk Eagles fans. Good times, right?
A Silver Lining in Sobriety
But as we finally got home safe, a bit angry and very disappointed, something dawned on me. I looked over at Heather, and I said, “You know, things happen for a reason. I mean, think about it—there was a time when we might have handled this very differently. Four and half years ago, we would’ve gone from terminal to terminal, hitting the bars, drinking away the time, pre-gaming for the flight. We would’ve made the situation far worse. I know I would have lost my shit at the agent, caused a huge embarrassing scene, might of gotten arrested for drunk disorderly conduct or worse. We would have had to drive home in the snow angry, drunk and yelling at each other. It would not have been a good.”
And that’s when I realized: in a way, today was a victory for my sobriety, I stayed calm, I kept it together. I didn’t get thrown off by the chaos, and because of that, I was still able to drive home safely. It was a true testament on how far I’ve come on my journey and how I’ve learned to except live on life’s terms.
Looking Ahead
We will get our chance to go to Alaska eventually.
Safe travels, everyone—may your journeys be smoother than ours!
Steve Ellis/ Blue/PA
RESOURCES you may find helpful.
by RE Helper | Feb 15, 2025 | Alcohol Free, Blog, Early Sobriety, Healing
Today’s blog entry is from Katherine D. Katherine is a member of Café RE.
Sobriety Souvenir
By: Katherine D
“It’s that little souvenir, of a terrible year, which makes my eyes feel sore”
The music had been in the background of my attention until that lyric just struck out to me; that little souvenir of a terrible year. I made a mental note to look up the lyrics and turned my attention back to the morning routine. Coffee. Organize bag. Dishes in the sink.
“Here’s where the story ends. It’s that little souvenir, of a terrible year, which makes my eyes feel sore”
The lyric broke through from the background again and I started to smile, almost laugh, as I paused and reflected back.
November 2022
Feeling lost, adrift, alone, isolated and stuck. You know what I’m talking about; just all the feels. I had to make a change. After decades of self-destruction, I was finally doing the work. I was seeing a therapist. I was journaling. I had stacked days again, but I was largely alone with only podcasts keeping me company in between weekly chats with family. I decided to leave early for the holidays and drove south where the world wasn’t buried in snow.
Alcohol was in and out of the picture and I’d be lying if I said I was drinking responsibly, particularly as I was traveling by car. But, I was convinced I needed it to endure and, while I knew it was a problem, it wasn’t something I was ready to tackle just yet. I had enough problems. Finding a job since returning to the US had been a struggle, but I was on track to getting a government job with my foot in the door. It wasn’t a great wage, but it was getting me out of the living situation I was in. It was getting me out of education. It was getting me a new start.
That’s when I would do it.
That’s when I would quit.
That’s when things would start to go right for me.
I just had to make it until January.
December 22 2022
The job falls through. Budget cuts. I can stay on the waitlist but there will be no job for me in Portsmouth come January. Well, at least I hadn’t already signed a lease and put myself in further financial challenge. I had only mentally sketched out my new life; plotted out where my gym was going to be, where I was going to grocery shop and how long it would it be before I got a dog. The loss of my newly envisioned life cut me deep and sent me further into – I can’t, I won’t, I can never kind of thinking.
December 25 2022
Test positive for covid and spend the next week sicker than I’d been since covid first came to town. I was, again, isolated and alone. I was at my father’s house caring for his cat while he and his wife were away. And even though I was sick as a dog and only going from the bed to the couch, you would think I’d be drinking tea and caring for myself. Of course not! Vodka, filler up! With a little bit of cranberry so I get my vitamins. In my mind, it was the only thing that made this shitty little existence better.
I would spend the next two months drinking heavily, bouncing back and forth between my father’s house in Ohio and my mother’s house in South Carolina, and spending every day, all day, obsessed with finding a job. Did I mention I’m in my 40s?
Mentally I was clearly not in a good place.
Physically I was in an even worse place. Looking back, I’m surprised no one said anything directly to me about my state and appearance, but I’m sure there were thoughts and side conversations.
My thoughts, my body and my life didn’t feel like my own. It was like watching myself from the outside. I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t know what I’d done or who I was anymore. Worse, I didn’t know how to make it better and was chasing the false hopes.
March 2023
I was back in education and teaching. But this was not like any school I had been at before. I had ignored the warning signals and red flags. I just saw it as a paycheck and a way to get back on my feet.
I endured more than I should have for months, but what it did do was get me back on my feet financially and able to get my own place, at an exorbitant price. In addition to teaching, I would have to get a second job.
I managed to stack days again and developed some healthy routines. Not only did I get a second job working at a local concert venue, but also started hosting trivia. The jam packed schedule with three jobs and just the basics of life to maintain myself, I didn’t have time to wallow in myself and I was getting the much needed social connections that I needed.
I was also bingeing and teetotaling like a Jekyll and Hyde.
August 2023
Moving up in the world – I got a job at one of the best elementary schools in the district!
Again, I ignored all the red flag and squashed my concerns. I convinced myself that this was going to get myself back on track.
Nevermind that I was still stuck in the groundhog day of Day 1.
Nevermind the fact that I knew I was my own worst enemy.
No one could say worse about me than what was running through my own mind on a moment to moment basis. I was doing better at squashing that voice, but I was still sitting in the front row and a very attentive audience to that self-sabotaging voice.
November 2023 – The Knockout Punch
A month of illness had landed me in the ER.
Testing confirmed that I had had Mono, but it wasn’t treated, in fact, it was kicked off worse and amplified due to the Strep throat meds I had been on, yep, Strep too. So with the Mono amplified and still in classrooms with 720 students each week, I got Pneumonia. Because, of course, I was still drinking.
I had had it.
I couldn’t.
Not one more Day 1. This had to stop. It was the root from which nothing was ever going to grow. I didn’t know if I could make it through the holidays, but I had to try and this was different.
I knew I was going to die if I didn’t.
November 2024
Just over a year without alcohol.
“… Here’s where the story ends
Oh, here’s where the story ends
… It’s that little souvenir, of a terrible year, which makes my eyes feel sore”
I don’t know what the song is really about.
But sobriety is my souvenir of a terrible year. It’s a souvenir I’ll be keeping.
At the time of submission Katherine has 13 months without alcohol and just finished a three month long journey across the US and Canada. She is excited to return to international teaching and in January will relocate to Monterrey, Mexico, as a middle school design teacher.
