Over the past few days, I’ve noticed a recurring theme in the little ‘God nods’ I’ve been receiving—hidden in AA shares or sometimes glaringly obvious. The message? Accepting that I am good enough and that I deserve the life I have now, all because of my sobriety. This has really made me reflect.
When I was younger, I was diagnosed with dyslexia. I was told my brain didn’t work like other people’s, and this planted a deep fear in me—especially around reading and writing. Back then, most teachers didn’t really understand dyslexia or have the patience to teach students like me. Instead, I was placed in the ‘SEN’ class, which was meant for kids with learning difficulties but also included many who were simply disruptive. That segregation only fuelled my anxiety and fear, and eventually, I gave up trying. I joined in with the chaos, finding it easier to hide in that identity than to keep feeling like I wasn’t enough.
I left school early—or rather, I was kicked out—because of an incident involving alcohol and drugs (but that’s another story). I had no confidence in anything academic and didn’t even attempt to get a ‘real’ job at first. My dad would get me temp work at McVitie’s, packing biscuits or working on quality control for Jaffa Cakes (which mostly meant eating the wonky ones all night). But the real money I was making wasn’t from anything on the books—let’s just leave it at that.
Somehow, after years of stumbling through life, I ended up working in IT in my early 30s. A company took a chance on me, trusting me to manage their systems. In my head, they had to be insane—but I did it. Most days, I was hungover or still drunk, operating in a constant state of imposter syndrome. Even when I became competent, I never felt good enough. The fear of being ‘found out’ clung to me, and I was sure others saw me the way I saw myself—an undeserving fraud, propped up by alcohol just to function.
Fast forward to today, and everything has changed. About a month into sobriety, while working through the 12 steps with my brilliant sponsor, something fundamental shifted in me. I stopped doubting myself. A confidence I’d never known before began to emerge. As the fog in my mind cleared, I realised that despite my best efforts to sabotage my own life—because that voice in my head constantly told me I wasn’t good enough—I had still managed to build something. I had done better than I’d ever given myself credit for.
Now, the fear is nearly gone. I no longer feel like I’m faking it. Today, I know that as long as I stay grateful, do my best, and be as kind and helpful as I can, I’ve had a good day. And if I feel happy, loved, or even successful, that’s okay. Because I—and all of us—deserve a life free from fear and suffering. Sobriety has given me that gift, and I am learning to embrace it.
But this journey hasn’t just been about overcoming self-doubt. It’s also been about making peace with my past. Looking back, I can see how alcohol became my escape—my way of numbing the pain, the insecurity, and the feeling that I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t realise at the time that alcohol was also reinforcing those beliefs, trapping me in a cycle where I constantly needed to drink to silence the shame that drinking itself was causing. It’s taken time and a lot of honesty to break that cycle, but today, I see things differently. I no longer define myself by my past mistakes or the struggles I once thought made me less than others.
Another part of this process has been learning to forgive—not just others, but myself. I carried so much resentment, not only toward those who didn’t understand me as a child but toward myself for the years I lost in addiction. Working through the steps helped me let go of that weight. I’ve learned that forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting; it means accepting that the past happened and choosing not to let it control me anymore. That has been one of the most freeing lessons of sobriety.
Sobriety has also allowed me to reconnect with the world in ways I never thought possible. My relationships have deepened, my ability to be present has improved, and for the first time, I actually enjoy life without needing to alter my state of mind. There’s an incredible peace in waking up each day knowing I am fully present, no longer running from anything. And the best part? I now believe I am worthy of this life. I am not just surviving—I am living.
So today, I move forward with gratitude. I know there will still be challenges, moments of doubt, and days where old fears try to creep back in. But I also know I have the tools to handle them. AA has given me a foundation, a community, and a way of life that keeps me grounded. Every day sober is a day I prove to myself that I am enough, that I deserve the happiness and peace I once thought were out of reach.
For anyone struggling with those same feelings of self-doubt, know this: you are not alone. Recovery isn’t just about putting down the drink—it’s about learning to truly value yourself. And if I can do it, so can you.
The Unseen Nod
The nod, a sign, a silent trace.
Enough. The word, in empty space.
Dyslexia's cage, a mind unseen,
Labelled, cast out, where shadows lean.
Fear's root, in soil of youth,
Yields bitter fruit, a twisted truth.
The broken gate, the flight from day,
Shadows traded, where secrets lay.
IT's strange grace, a gamble blind,
Imposter's mask, a troubled mind.
Doubt, a fog, that clings and binds,
Until sobriety, a new self finds.
Sabotage's art, a self-made wall,
Yet, something stands, above it all.
Gratitude's breath, a gentle breeze,
Fear's fading echo, among the trees.
The past, a river, flowing on,
Shame's heavy current, nearly gone.
Forgiveness' hand, releasing pain,
Not memory's loss, but freedom's gain.
Presence's gift, a world made new,
Worthy of life, both strong and true.
The path ahead, with steps unknown,
AA's circle, a grounding stone.
Each sober dawn, a truth revealed,
Enough, the self, the wounds are healed.
Not alone, the journey's start,
To value self, within the heart.
If I can find it, so can you,
The silent care, makes all things new.
