You might think that a leader of a mental health and addictions charity would see this that this month’s theme is Recovery and think, “yippee! I’ve got so much to say. I’m going to rock this article!” You’d be wrong. My reaction to Recovery as a theme was an eye roll and a loud, “oh, come on!” that was particularly embarrassing as I’m writing on a train. 

I like talking and writing about recovery. I’m one of those annoying people who happens to love my job and the people I try to serve by doing it. I wake up thinking about recovery. I go to bed thinking about it. I have plenty to say. 

The problem for me is that articles have word limits. This one is supposed to be around 600 words. I am a stubborn, opiniated human who adores the written word. I have a personal/professional mission to rebuild substance use health systems and eliminate stigma. 600 words?! I just blew a third of them telling you lovely readers why a train car full of people is now giving me side eye waiting for my next outburst. 

Here’s what I would do if I had unlimited words:

I would break down the brain science of substance use in a way that wouldn’t put your brain to sleep. I’d share a couple of endearing stories to help you understand what it feels like to be stuck in substance use. 

Then, when I felt like I had said enough that even the most cynical reader would be glowing with loving, learned empathy, I’d hit you with the systems stuff: multi-year waitlists for care, total lack of government oversight of treatment providers, policies that bankrupt and break up families. 

With unlimited words and unlimited time to perfect them, I would have people writing letters to lawmakers and volunteering for local support organizations.  

But let’s face it: 600 words isn’t enough to make a reader really get it. It may be enough for a better writer (or for someone willing to use the scandalous new AI “what can I write for you today?” prompt that popped up when I updated Word. No offense, Copilot. I’m sure you’re great. I’m just bitter because I love writing I’m going to miss my job). 

Since I personally can’t change minds in 600 words, I will instead say something about substance use health recovery to the people who don’t need a lesson in what it’s like: those of you on a substance use recovery journey of your own.

My friends, I get it. You face a heap of expectations. Stay sober every day. Do better in life. Make amends with everyone you know. Become a pillar of your community. Be grateful. Oh, and by the way, do it all while feeling like everyone is watching you and waiting for you to fail.

It’s a pretty freaking high bar, and there is no room for error. Had a slip that lasted a few days and crawled back to your support group with your tail between your legs? Better restart the clock. You failed. The hard-won days are no longer victories. The chips are no longer valid. 

If you’ve been through that kind of thing, you know how it feels. You feel defeated. You feel like a failure. You say things like, “I can’t believe I threw away all that time.” For the most part, the world around you will want you to feel better, but they won’t deny that you failed. 

I deny that you’ve failed.

You have decided to do one of the hardest things a person can do: face this messed up world without any kind of numbing agent and with a brain that won’t stop reminding you that everything would be so much more wonderful if you did give it that numbing agent. Every day that you have faced the world without your substance of choice and shut down those endless nagging thoughts, you have been a superhero. You earned every single minute of your time.

No one is allowed to take time from you. Not even you. Hold on to your good days. Count them. They all matter. And so do you.