Hi, I’m Samuel. My life has been an ugly roller coaster of ups and downs; I don’t even remember how many times I fell on my knees and went completely offshore from life. Multiple times, I got drunk to the point where everyone was like, damn, that’s over. It all began the time my father died. It felt like I was high and dry in this life of uncertainty that only gifts those who know the game, which is already rigged, and those manipulating those rules were winning. Yes, that was it. That was the problem. Because I was being honest and real, yet I was doomed and destroyed after losing my father. And having a breakup with my long-time girlfriend? That was a systematic disaster.
Battling Addiction and the Agony of Recovery
With just work and a life half-empty of joy, I resorted to alcohol. Drinking and driving, and just drinking more. My earnings became a way to source this addiction. I was on a downward spiral. Every day felt like a war. My mind waged war on me. It was now or never, evil or good. In my efforts to prove this world wrong, I CORRUPTED MY SOUL WITH FILTH. When I decided to quit drinking, THAT’S WHEN THE ABOMINATION OF MY SOUL BEGAN.
I was far away from the emotional healing from anxiety, from peace, from anything that could make me feel whole again. The anxiety in recovery was unbearable. The shakes. The voices in my head. The regret clawing at me, reminding me that I had made myself the enemy. Not the world. Not my circumstances. Me. The man in the mirror. I had burned bridges with people who once loved me. I had laughed off concern from those who tried to save me. I had poisoned my body with a slow suicide called addiction. And now, now that I had quit, I had no numbing agent left.
The Moment That Changed Everything – Overcoming Anxiety in Recovery
Every damn thing I had buried came back like an avalanche. The pain of my father’s death. The echoes of a love that once was but was gone forever. The emptiness. The shame. The demons in my mind whispered that I was too far gone. That I was better off drowning in a bottle than facing the truth. I was weak, and I was broken, and I was nothing.
But then, in the midst of my darkness, something happened. Something I can’t explain in logic, but I can feel it even now. I found myself on my knees, but this time not because I had fallen. But because I was seeking. Pleading. Crying out to God with the last shred of my being.
And He was there.
Not in a thunderous voice. Not in some miracle where everything suddenly became easy. But in a whisper. In a peace that washed over me in a way no drink, no escape, no worldly thing ever had. It was like something cracked open inside me, and all that filth, all that poison, all that hate I had for myself started pouring out. I realized—I had done more damage to myself than the world ever could. I was my own executioner. And yet, despite it all, Jesus still reached for me. Still loved me. Still called me His.
It didn’t happen overnight. Recovery was still a battle. The nightmares still came. The anxiety still clawed. But this time, I wasn’t alone. This time, I had something stronger than the pain. I had faith. And with every prayer, every tear, every moment I surrendered instead of fought, I got a little stronger. A little clearer. A little more… free.
A Journey from Brokenness to Redemption
Today, I stand. Not perfect. Not without scars. But alive. At peace. And I know now—I was never meant to fight this alone. Jesus had been waiting all along, not to judge me, not to condemn me, but to heal me. To show me that even after all I had done, all the wrong turns, all the destruction—I was still His. And I was still worthy of redemption.
Overcoming anxiety in recovery wasn’t easy; I lost myself in the darkness. But in the end, I found something greater. I found the only truth that ever mattered.
I found Jesus Christ.