Isolation in Early Sobriety

sites • Nov 13, 2020

Why am I not getting invited to things? Ohhh right, I haven’t communicated how I feel…

When I was early in sobriety I remember that a lot of my friends and family were worried about inviting me certain places because they didn’t want to put me in a bad spot or make me feel uncomfortable. At the time, I was just so good at communicating with them that I never asked why I wasn’t being invited anywhere. I decided to go with the tried and true method of assuming rather than actually asking. As you might imagine, this didn’t go over well. I started to hold a resentment and because of that reached out less. Hey! Way to go AJ!


I think a lot of my hesitation to reach out to friends and family about social events was that I was afraid of rejection. I was worried that they would say “no, we don’t want you here.” Rejection is such a scary thing to deal with whether you are just getting sober or not. What I have learned though is that regardless of the fear of rejection, I still want to be involved with other people especially those who matter to me most; friends and family. With a little help, I knew that I needed to start somewhere. I needed a baseline of trust with everyone in regards to venturing back out into the social world. After all, it was the summer and I wasn’t going to just sit inside all day by myself. For me, isolation has never really worked out and I needed to work on a solid tan. I decided to reach out to the friends that I felt closest with, and therefore, most comfortable bringing this vulnerability to. I scheduled us getting together for dinner and made it a 1 on 1 situation because I was way too scared to bring up this conversation to everyone at once. To be honest, I had no idea how to start the conversation, but I knew that this person was someone who was caring, supportive and would hear what I had to say. I’m a big believer that you can’t fake being genuine and that if I stuck to that  principle, I knew I would be OK. 


We got to dinner and I was like a 6-year-old getting a gift – there was no intro; just right into ripping apart the wrapping paper. “Why don’t you guys invite me anywhere?” was met with a perfectly good response – “I didn’t know how you felt about being around drinking and partying and I would never want to put you in a bad spot.” I felt a little dumb because it was such a thoughtful response and I knew that he had my best interest at heart. My sister told me that I won’t get anything that I don’t ask for. With that in mind, I simply asked that going forward, if I could get included in plans and be given the option of whether or not to say no, it would be really helpful. I explained to him that my sobriety was first and foremost the most important thing to me and something that I did not want to jeopardize. Having said that, I was still me and I still wanted to be social and be in the mix. His response was perfect – “I didn’t know you felt that way and I am so happy you said something.” 


I’ve learned that I don’t get anything that I don’t ask for, especially invitations to social events, hangouts, parties, etc. I didn’t get sober so that I could hide from the world. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I got sober so that I could enjoy the things and the people in my life. If I don’t communicate that to the people around me, they’ll never know how I feel. 

Worth the Wait: Megan's Path to Lasting Addiction Recovery and Purpose

By Megan Miller, CAC • 29 Oct, 2024
I grew up full of fear. Everything terrified me. I never felt comfortable in my own skin. It wasn’t until I started smoking pot at 14—because I was too afraid to stand up to peer pressure—that I finally felt a sense of freedom and relaxation for the first time. I chased that high for the next 16 years. Somehow, I managed to graduate college with an OxyContin addiction, and after that, with nothing tethering me to the real world, things got a lot worse. I went to detox for the first of many times in 2005. I left there thinking I wasn’t an addict and that my use had just gotten out of control. That denial kept me in and out of treatment for the next decade. Heroin became my entire life. I couldn’t hold a job, I overdosed, I got Hepatitis C from sharing needles, and I didn’t care about anything except getting high. I was so full of shame at what my life had become, but I just couldn’t stop. I was great at trying to stop, but I couldn’t stay stopped. The gift of desperation came to me in April 2012. I couldn’t keep living the way I was. I finally wanted to live instead of die. That compulsion to use left me when I finally surrendered to it. Today, I wake up grateful for the life I have. My 6-year-old daughter is the greatest joy of my life, and she has never seen me use. Today, with the support of my wonderful husband, my family, and my recovery network, I live a full life of joy and purpose. There is no more rewarding feeling in the world than sharing the gift of recovery with others.

Overdose Awareness Day: A Reflection on Hope and Recovery

By Dave Aumiller, CPS, NCPRSS • 03 Sep, 2024
Overdose. It’s a word that catches in my throat and a topic that stops me in my tracks. As a person in long-term recovery from Alcohol Use Disorder (AUD) and Substance Use Disorder (SUD), I have overdosed many times. I have been revived by paramedics three times. Waking up in a hospital bed with no idea how I got there—scared. Or in the back of an ambulance, sick and angry for being Narcaned, a crazed hostage of my addicted mind. Or in a front yard, soaking wet from someone throwing me in a cold shower, unsuccessfully trying to revive me before leaving me outside—confused. These experiences don’t account for the countless times I have overdosed and been revived by a concerned party—now scarred by the trauma of my disease in its final stage, trying to carry out its final act, resulting in an untimely death. Overdose. After all of this, it was the kindness and care of others that made the difference between another chance and another day. Another dose of hope and life. An opportunity to begin again. On a day like today, reflecting on a topic that is so close to the heart of everyone connected to this reality, I am grateful. I am hopeful. I am humble. Because I know how lucky I am. How undeserving I was. And I live my amends and gratitude by doing my best to embody and live the values of a recovery that works. I also keep close to my heart, at the forefront of my mind, and on the tip of my tongue, the names of the countless others who weren’t as lucky as I. In honor of Overdose Awareness Day, I will say the names of my friends who weren’t fortunate enough to receive as many chances as I did, and I will live in their names—sober today and willing to extend a hand to anyone who needs it in their journey to recover and spread hope to both the sufferer and the caregiver.  Today, let us remember those we have lost, cherish the moments we have been given, and continue to fight for a future where overdose is a distant memory. Together, we can make a difference. Together, we can spread hope.

Overdose Awareness Day: Survivor's Guilt Transformed into Hope

By Shannon Schwoeble, CPS • 29 Aug, 2024
I was devastated when I heard that another close friend I'd made in treatment was gone. Seven friends in my first six months—two had come into treatment, left, and passed away while I was still there. In the years that followed, many others who had walked this path alongside me were lost as well. Nine in my first year of recovery. I found myself asking, "Why am I still here? Why didn’t they ‘get it’?"  Survivor’s guilt was not something I expected to experience in recovery. It hit me hard and fast when I began my journey in 2011. I was terrified. I would sit and think about friends I had just seen or spoken to—did they seem different? Did they sound off? I was so scared of who I would lose next. Through my work with a therapist and finding my own voice, I learned to transform my survivor's guilt into hope. I realized that by using my voice, sharing my story, saying their names, and talking about the profound impact each of them had on me—in life and in death—I could help others understand that recovery is possible. Perhaps, something I share will give someone struggling a glimmer of hope that they, too, can find recovery. On Overdose Awareness Day, August 31, we remember and honor those we've lost to this devastating disease. In loving memory of Ben, Pat, Krista, Harry, Christina, Brook, Dustin, Jeff, Jamie, and everyone we have lost—you are remembered and loved, today and every day.
Share by: