I discovered modern recovery early on in my sobriety, which too changed everything. It offered a different, non-traditional path with language and messaging that felt revolutionary and empowering. Modern recovery clicked for me—there was no need to mold myself into a framework that didn’t feel quite right. It met me exactly where I was—not someplace I’d hoped to one day reach. Instead of a destination, I’d found a home. Today, my world is teeming with diverse, brilliant, and inspiring friends from around the globe. On the surface, we may not appear to have much in common, but there is nothing surface about these relationships. My recovery circles are not determined by age bracket or sobriety day count or geographical location. We all drank differently, hurt differently, and heal differently. But we’ve found each other through a soul-based connection that transcends all else. A recovery circle is symbiotic in nature: everyone learns and everyone teaches. We are all witnesses and guides. I can connect with someone as deeply on their Day One as I can with someone on their Year Seven. As Brene Brown explains, “Connection is the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.” I think of modern recovery meetings like a potluck dinner—we each bring one dish, but we get to share and savor an entire table’s worth. We exchange recipes on life and nourish one another. All dishes are welcome—whether served on a silver platter or in Tupperware. We do not compare, and we do not judge. We arrive in sequins or sweatpants. We all have a seat at the table.
Connection brings us strength and solidarity, but it also offers perspective. In every meeting, I am reminded of our humanity. I am reminded that every person struggles and triumphs. I am reminded that I matter—we all do—but that staying stuck in my own head is not a good place to be. Oftentimes the best remedy for whatever I’m grappling with is to simply reach out and be a friend to someone else. As I first scrawled in a journal over two years ago, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it’s thinking of yourself less.” There is room at the potluck table for the mother who is grieving a miscarriage as well as the one struggling with an empty nest. There is room at the table for the father who lost his son to addiction as well as the one working through complicated legal issues and custody arrangements. There is room at the table for the woman who has been to three rehabs as well as the one still wondering if her gray-area drinking was really that bad. There is room at the table for the woman completely overwhelmed by the holiday season and the one preparing to spend it alone. Today I am a student of life and myself. From my seat at the table, I’ve witnessed others with more life experience than me walk through storms and fires with dignity and grace. And you can bet I’ve been taking notes. Without my addiction, I never would have been granted the gift of this seat at the recovery table. The concept of forever doesn’t scare me the way it once had in early sobriety. Because I see now that the “work” of recovery is not some permanent, exhausting job to avoid and repair the damage. It’s an invitation to a better life. Today my life is less about running from the monster than it is running toward the magic. And I have no plans to stop.
HOLA SOBER | MADRID
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