Let me start by saying this loud and clear:
I’m not judging.
Not even a little bit.
I sit with my own demons, too. Some days they sit a little too close.
But I’ve got to say something, because it’s been burning a hole in my chest for a while now.
Why is it that someone can get out of jail, say they’re sober, and then spend every weekend—or let’s be honest, every day—drunk off their ass?
How did we start treating alcohol like it’s the exception to addiction?
You didn’t heal, my dude. You just switched devils.
And it’s not just one person—I’ve seen it again and again. People who once fought tooth and nail to survive addiction, who lost jobs, relationships, and pieces of themselves to substances, now proudly holding up a beer and saying, “At least I ain’t back on the hard stuff.”
But here’s the hard truth:
If you’re still numbing, still escaping, still running from yourself—you’re not sober.
You’re just using a socially acceptable drug and calling it recovery.
That’s not healing. That’s rebranding.
The Alcohol Exception
Alcohol gets this weird free pass in our culture. You can say you’re sober at brunch while holding a mimosa, and no one bats an eye. But if someone fresh off a heroin addiction lights up a joint, suddenly everyone’s got opinions.
Let me say this straight: alcohol is still a drug.
It still destroys lives. It still ruins families. It still kills people—quietly, legally, and with applause in the form of “cheers.”
So why do we treat it like the polite cousin at the addiction table?
Sobriety Isn’t a Swap Meet
Real recovery isn’t just about ditching one substance. It’s about healing the why behind the use. It’s about facing your pain, your trauma, your chaos—and not reaching for a bottle, a pill, a needle, or a buzz to make it go quiet.
If you’re still reaching for something—anything—to silence your soul, you’re not sober.
You’re surviving. And that’s understandable. But call it what it is.
Because when we start watering down the word “sober,” we make it harder for the people who are actually trying to do the damn thing.
We blur the line between coping and recovering. And that line? It matters.
Final Thoughts (and No, I’m Still Not Judging)
I’m not here to play recovery police. I’ve got my own mess to clean up.
But if we’re going to talk about sobriety, let’s be real about what it means.
Let’s stop giving alcohol the gold star it doesn’t deserve.
Let’s stop pretending a different poison makes you clean.
You’re not weak if you’re struggling.
You’re not broken if you’re still fighting.
But you’re not sober just because you changed the label on the bottle.
Let’s call it what it is.
Not to shame.
Not to blame.
But to keep it real—because real is where the healing starts.
I say all this not to judge, but because I sit in the same dark room and try to call the flickering light “healing.” We all deserve more than survival—we deserve freedom.
Until next time—I’m rooting for your freedom, not just your sobriety.
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