I Finally Stopped Running

I Finally Stopped Running

I Finally Stopped Running

The Beginning

I grew up in rural Australia. My childhood was one that most people dream of. The ocean, the bush and the boundless plains were my backyard. I was a tough kid for my parents: I threw tantrums and I was destructive. One of my first addictive behaviours as a three-year-old was compulsively picking up cigarette butts and eating them.

At the age of eleven my parents moved me to another school, and this caused a change in me. I had been at my primary school since I was four. This transition, including the sudden attention of bullies and a scary bus ride with high schoolers, caused me to become frightened. That fear and uncertainty became part of me through the rest of my childhood and into my adult years.

I was a pretty good sportsman and student, but if I wasn’t in first place then I saw no victory in anything. I always felt I had more to prove, so I lied, I embellished, and I tried to pretend that I was more than I was.

Running Away

I had sipped alcohol a few times throughout my childhood. But I was 14 or 15 the first time that I got drunk. I was around my family, and as a result the first time I got drunk was also the first time I needed to lie about my drinking. But I loved alcohol. It took away that self-doubt. After that, I got drunk any time that I could. From the start there were consequences from my drinking and my solution to those problems was to run away.

Chasing that dragon defined my life for almost 25 years. As a restless alcoholic, I roamed the world, but wherever I went I took that self-doubt, the desire to be more than I was, and the drinking along with me. It affected my friendships, my relationships, my family and career.

I never quite crashed and burned, but mostly because I was always one step ahead of it. I would skate out of town by the seat of my pants and tell myself, “I’ll be better in the next place.”

There is a profound pain in addiction, where the thing that is hurting you the most is also the only thing that momentarily soothes you. For many years before I finally stopped, I didn’t want to drink, I just did. I had mostly lost sight of the fact that there was another option.

I had also slowly shrunk my life to where the only thing left was drinking. My social life was soaked in alcohol. I no longer had hobbies, and my health was beginning to fail me. I made one more desperate relocation, hoping that this time it would be different.

Surrender: The Decision to Stop Drinking

It was different. It was worse. Within a couple of months of arriving, I had managed to create more chaos in my life than ever before. I was tired, I was lonely, and I was on the verge of losing my job, my relationship and, if my luck ran out, my life. I was beaten, and I was finally ready to try the one thing I had never truly tried before: stop drinking.

Previously I had tried to moderate, and even made a few half attempts at stopping, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was clinging to the belief that I needed alcohol to have fun, to connect with others, to connect with myself. The idea of stopping completely scared the shit out of me. So with all the courage I could muster up, I drove myself to an AA meeting and walked inside.

That was 14 months ago. In that time I haven’t drunk or used drugs, and my life has changed profoundly.

Change

The first few months were detox, not just from booze, but from the chaos and the emotion. I slept, I ate ice cream, I went to meetings, I listened back to every episode of the Recovery Elevator Podcast, and I did anything that I could to not drink. I was fortunate that my cravings disappeared quickly, but what replaced them was something more existential: the reality of my life.

There wasn’t much left when you took out the alcohol. Fortunately, I fell into a fun and supportive sober crew through AA, good people who take care of each other. That community and its support have filled my life back up, and that has been one of the biggest factors in helping me maintain my sobriety as long as I have.

Along the way, I have worked on understanding what led me to drink the way I did. I have also been forced to confront the damage that my behaviour caused over my lifetime. That seeking of answers and honesty was a first for me. I had spent my adult life running away from all of my problems.

This was the first time that I forced myself to sit with them and begin to make changes that weren’t just cosmetic: a new job, a new girlfriend, a new city. I was finally examining who I really was, what brought me here, and changing what and who really needed to change all along.

Community, Spirituality and Learning

Probably the biggest surprise of sobriety has been the development of a spiritual belief and practice. The concept of a higher power materialised in my life, and now time with that higher power, be it in a group of people being honest with each other, at the top of a mountain or at the beginning or end of each day, is the most sacred time I have. Prayer and meditation have become tools that I use daily to connect with the universe and with myself.

The community and friendships I have formed have been some of the best of my life. People in recovery are some of the realest that you will meet. The honesty, support and camaraderie that come with seeing others hit milestones and get better is so beautiful.

Literature has also been a big part of my recovery. Beyond the well-worn AA literature I have discovered a world of books dedicated to helping people get sober and get healthy. The Drop the Rock series by Hazelden Publishing helped me understand that I must take responsibility for my own behaviour. Authors like Melody Beattie and Tian Dayton have helped me see more clearly the family nature of addiction and the complex combination of nature and nurture that can cause it.

Endless Opportunity

Recently, my focus has become welcoming the endless opportunity the future holds. Getting sober has a way of widening your vision. Eliminating that binary feeling that nothing could exist beyond alcohol has made me ask myself, “What else have I been wrong about?”

The world is a big, beautiful place, and the universe has a way of giving you what you need when you need it. In the past I hid away from the world because I was scared that I would end up drunk if I left the house. Now I am free to once again step outside and explore the lakes, forests and mountain ranges, and I know that wherever I go I am going to have an experience that I, by definition, have never had before.

Each day and each moment of life is at the very end of time.

Much Love, Lewy

The Canary in the Mine: What Addiction Is Telling Us

The Canary in the Mine: What Addiction Is Telling Us

The Canary in the Mine: What Addiction Is Really Telling Us

In many native cultures, when someone became sick, they weren’t seen as broken—they were seen as a signal. In the context of addiction and recovery, that signal might be what we call the canary in the mine.

A warning.

A canary in the mine.

Instead, rather than isolating that person, the community came together. They recognized that illness—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—meant something was out of balance for everyone, not just the individual.

And the response wasn’t blame.

It was connection.

Music. Movement. Healing. Together.


Addiction as the Canary in the Mine

Fast forward to today, and we’re seeing more “sick canaries” than ever.

Addiction. Anxiety. Depression. Burnout.

Instead, we tend to treat these as personal failures. Something to fix quietly. Something to hide.

But what if, in reality, addiction isn’t the problem?

What if it’s the signal?

When someone struggles with alcohol, it often points to something deeper—not just within that person, but within the systems, environments, and pressures we all live in.

In that way, addiction becomes a mirror, reflecting a larger imbalance.

And the truth is, it affects all of us.


Why You Can’t Do This Alone

Here’s what you don’t hear when someone celebrates an alcohol-free milestone:

“I figured it out by myself. I locked myself away and powered through alone.”

That’s not how it works.

What you do hear is:

“I couldn’t have done it without…”

A friend. A parent. A group. A community. A stranger who showed up at the right time.

Because, in reality, recovery isn’t a solo mission.

It never has been.

In fact, it never will be.


Community Is the Cure

If addiction is the canary in the mine, then connection is the response.

Not isolation.

Not silence.

Not white-knuckling your way through it.

Real recovery happens when you let people in.

That might look like:

  • Talking to a friend about your drinking
  • Joining a recovery group
  • Working with a counselor
  • Becoming part of an alcohol-free community like Café RE

The form doesn’t matter as much as the principle:

You need people.

And just as importantly—people need you.


Let People Help You

This part is uncomfortable, but it matters.

When you don’t ask for help, you’re not just protecting yourself—you’re also blocking others from doing what they’re wired to do.

Humans are built for connection. Research continues to show that social connection plays a critical role in mental health and recovery, not just emotionally, but biologically. (See American Psychological Association on the importance of social connection.) Supporting each other isn’t just a kind gesture—it’s biological.

Helping someone in need releases chemicals that make us feel good, grounded, and connected.

So when you’re struggling and you let someone in, it’s not a burden.

It’s an opportunity.


The Turning Point in Recovery

If you’re stuck in the cycle of drinking and trying to quit, the shift usually starts with two simple—but not easy—steps:

1. Ask for help

2. Be willing to receive it

Both will likely push you outside your comfort zone.

That’s the point.

Because growth doesn’t happen where things feel safe and familiar.

It happens when something cracks open.


Maybe Addiction Has a Purpose

This might be hard to hear, but it’s worth considering:

What if addiction serves a purpose?

Not in a romanticized way—but as a force that pushes you toward awareness.

Toward change.

Toward connection.

Because before anything shifts, you have to see it clearly.

This idea isn’t new—we explored it more deeply in Episode 337: The Canary in the Mine, where the conversation centers on what addiction might actually be trying to show us.

And once you do, something starts to open.


The Canary Can Heal

If you’re reading this and thinking about quitting drinking—or wondering if you should—you might be the canary.

That doesn’t mean you’re broken.

It means you’re aware.

And awareness is where everything begins.

Healing doesn’t come from finding the perfect method or following a single path.

There are countless ways to recover.

But they all share one thing in common:

Connection.

You don’t have to do this alone.

And you were never meant to.

Author: Paul Churchill, founder of Recovery Elevator.

Inner Conflict and Sobriety: Why Recovery Starts Within

Inner Conflict and Sobriety: Why Recovery Starts Within

 

Author: Paul Churchill, founder of Recovery Elevator.

What If Recovery Isn’t About What Works — But What Fits?

What If Recovery Isn’t About What Works — But What Fits?

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.

 

Better Late Than Never  

Better Late Than Never  

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.  

Spiritual Healing in Year One Alcohol-Free

Spiritual Healing in Year One Alcohol-Free

Spiritual healing after quitting alcohol can be subtle, surprising, and deeply meaningful. It’s also the focus of Part 3 in our three-month series on the healing that takes place in your first year alcohol-free.

In Part 1 we explored physical healing, and in Part 2 we covered mental healing. Now, we’re shifting to something less tangible but equally powerful—your connection to self, others, and the world around you.

Let’s dig in.


 

 

🌱 Spiritual Healing After Quitting Alcohol: What May Happen in Week One

  • For many, nothing profound happens immediately. That’s normal.
  • But you might have had a moment before your last drink when time seemed to pause—a flicker of presence that let you really see where alcohol was taking you.
  • That moment of clarity, however fleeting, may have been the start.

 

🍃 First Month of Spiritual Healing After Quitting Alcohol

  • Your intuition might quietly peek out and ask, “Is it safe to return yet?”
  • You may feel a pull toward nature—a walk in the woods, leaning on a tree, or just sitting still under the sky.
  • You might experience a few moments of pure gratitude—not for things, but for being.
  • Even something simple, like watching a bird or a breeze in the trees, might hold your attention longer than usual.

 

🌌 Spiritual Growth and Awareness in Months 1–6 Alcohol-Free

  • Synchronicities start happening—those “too weird to be coincidence” moments.
  • You begin to feel the emotions of others more deeply, maybe even animals or the earth itself.
  • You start listening to your intuition and trusting it.
  • Your connection to something greater than yourself—something that doesn’t come in a bottle—starts to take root.
  • Authentic wisdom bubbles up. Sometimes you surprise yourself with what you say (and yes, you sound a bit like a fortune cookie).
  • You begin to sense the universe has a sense of humor—and you’re in on the joke.

 

✨ Spiritual Healing in Year One of Sobriety: A New Connection to Life

  • You start to notice the spaces between life’s events, not just the events themselves.
  • You realize this journey isn’t about becoming someone new—it’s about unbecoming what was never really you.
  • Books like The Power of Now, The Dao, or The Artist’s Way might find their way into your life—often “accidentally.”
  • You may pause before killing a spider, recognizing you’re both part of something shared.
  • Decisions shift—you’re guided more by intuition than logic.
  • Material things matter less. Moments matter more.
  • You find yourself standing in awe of a canyon, a sunset, or a mountain—and feeling it all in a way you never used to.
  • You begin seeking wisdom from ancestors, indigenous cultures, spiritual texts—things you once dismissed.
  • You may start meditating or exploring your inner self.
  • You discover flow states—where time disappears, and presence takes over.

 

🌊 Long-Term Spiritual Healing and Transformation in Sobriety

  • You begin helping others heal, not by fixing, but by simply walking alongside them.
  • You value silence and listening as much as speaking.
  • Gratitude becomes your default mode—less about what’s missing, more about what already is.
  • Creativity returns: music, poetry, painting, dancing—even spontaneous singing while cooking. (The Artist’s Way is a great guide here.)
  • The dream world and waking world start to dance—you dream of an owl, then see one the next day.
  • Your inner child reawakens—you feel playful, curious, light again.
  • You feel less like a wave, more like the ocean. Life moves around you, but it no longer knocks you down.
  • You stop labeling life events as “good” or “bad”—they just are, and somehow, they all fit.
  • You begin to trust that everything is unfolding exactly as it should.
  • And eventually, you realize:

    What you’ve been searching for all along has been inside you the whole time.


🌟 The Healing Never Stops

So here we are—three parts, three layers of healing: physical, mental, and spiritual. This list? It’s just the beginning.

Sobriety doesn’t just take something away—it gives you back a connection you didn’t know you were missing. The healing deepens, the awareness expands, and the sense of peace grows.

Whether you’re a week in or years down the road—keep going. You’re not becoming someone new. You’re just remembering who you were all along.


📖 Missed a part? Catch up here:
👉 Part 1: Physical Healing After Quitting Alcohol
👉 Part 2: Mental Healing After Quitting Alcohol

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