Anchored: One Year Sober, One Life Changed

January 19, 2025. I remember that date like it was yesterday, even though a full year has passed. It’s funny how certain moments in life become etched into your memory with such clarity that you can recall every detail—the temperature of the room, the weight in your chest, the quiet voice inside telling you that something needed to change. That was the day I found God. That was the day everything shifted.

Today marks one year of sobriety, and as I sit here reflecting on the past twelve months, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude, hope, and a sense of peace I didn’t know was possible. This isn’t the story I thought I’d be telling a year ago. Honestly, I didn’t know what my story would be. But here I am, and I want to share it with you—not because I have it all figured out, but because maybe, just maybe, someone out there needs to hear that change is possible, that transformation is real, and that you don’t have to walk through life in a fog anymore.

The Decision I Didn’t Know I Needed to Make

A year ago, I wasn’t at rock bottom in the dramatic sense you see in movies. I hadn’t lost everything. I still had Nina, my job, my friends, my family. But I was losing something far more precious—I was losing myself. I was going through the motions of life without actually being present for any of it. Days blurred together. Nights disappeared into a haze I couldn’t quite piece together the next morning. I’d wake up with fragments of memories, trying to reconstruct what I’d said, what I’d done, who I might have embarrassed myself in front of.

The truth I didn’t want to admit? I couldn’t remember what happened the previous night. Not clearly, anyway. And that had become normal to me. I’d normalized living in a constant state of partial amnesia, laughing it off, making jokes about my “bad memory,” when really, I was just drunk. A lot.

Looking back now, I realize I was probably acting stupid most of the time. Not in a harmless, funny way—in a way that made the people who loved me worry. In a way that was slowly eroding the foundation of everything I cared about. Bad choices were leading to bad decisions, and bad decisions were becoming my default mode.

The Moment Everything Changed

I can pinpoint exactly what triggered it. On January 17th of last year, Nina said to me, “You need God!” At that very moment something broke inside of me. Not broke in a destructive way—broke open, like a dam that had been holding back years of truth I wasn’t ready to face. Her words weren’t angry or judgmental. They were honest, spoken out of love by someone who knew me better than I knew myself. And somehow, in that moment, I couldn’t deflect or make excuses or laugh it off like I usually did.

For two days, those words echoed in my mind. I couldn’t shake them. I couldn’t ignore them. And on January 19th, alone and tired of the cycle, tired of waking up with regret as my constant companion, I did something I had not done in a long time—I went to Church.

I don’t know what I expected when I walked through those doors. Maybe judgment. Maybe to feel out of place. But what I found was something completely different. As I sat there, listening, something inside me shifted. In that moment, surrounded by people I didn’t know but somehow feeling less alone than I had in years, I asked Jesus into my life.

I know that might sound sudden or dramatic to some of you reading this, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like coming home after being lost for a long time. It felt like finally exhaling after holding my breath for years.

The first person I told was my mom. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I told her I went to Church and asked Jesus into my life. The joy that flooded her expression, the tears that welled up in her eyes, the way her whole face seemed to light up from within—that image will stay with me forever. In that moment, I realized how much my struggle had weighed on her heart, how much she’d been praying for this, hoping for this, believing for this even when I couldn’t believe it for myself. That look of pure joy and relief is something I carry with me every single day. It reminds me that my choices don’t just affect me—they ripple out to everyone who loves me.

The Journey That Wasn’t What I Expected

Here’s something that might surprise you: the sobriety journey wasn’t difficult for me. I know that’s not everyone’s experience, and I don’t say it to minimize anyone else’s struggle. But for me, once I made the decision and invited God into my life, the desire to drink just… faded. It wasn’t a constant battle of white-knuckling my way through cravings. It was more like waking up from a dream and realizing I didn’t need what I thought I needed.

The biggest surprise? I realized I didn’t need alcohol to have fun and socialize. This was a revelation that honestly shocked me. For years, I’d built my social identity around drinking. Parties meant drinking. Hanging out with friends meant drinking. Celebrating meant drinking. Even just relaxing after work meant drinking. I’d convinced myself that alcohol was the key to loosening up, being funny, connecting with people, having a good time.

But this past year has taught me that I’m actually more fun, more present, more genuinely myself without it. I can laugh harder, listen better, and actually remember the conversations I have. I can be fully engaged in the moment instead of viewing life through an alcohol-induced filter. Who knew?

Building Something Real

One of the most beautiful transformations this year has been in my relationship with Nina, my fiancée. Before, I was physically present but emotionally checked out more often than I’d like to admit. I’d be there, but not really there. Now, we’ve built a solid foundation together—one based on genuine presence, honest communication, and shared values.

Nina has been incredibly supportive throughout this journey, and I’m more engaged with her than I’ve ever been. We have real conversations now. We make plans, and I actually remember making them. We dream together about our future, and I’m clear-headed enough to be a true partner in building that future. She deserves someone who shows up fully, and for the first time, I feel like I’m actually being that person.

The same goes for my work and my friendships. I’m more engaged, more reliable, more present. My colleagues have noticed. My friends have noticed. I’m not the guy who shows up late and hungover anymore. I’m not the one making excuses or flaking out. I’m building trust and deepening connections in ways I couldn’t when I was living in that fog.

The Daily Practice of Presence

One of the habits that has anchored this transformation is taking time each day for reflection through devotional reading. Every morning, I spend time in Scripture and prayer, and it’s become the foundation of my day. It’s not about being perfect or having all the answers—it’s about staying connected to the source of strength that made this change possible in the first place.

These quiet moments of reflection have taught me to be present not just with God, but with my own thoughts and emotions. I’m learning to process things instead of numbing them. I’m learning to sit with discomfort instead of drowning it. I’m learning that being present for life—the good, the bad, the mundane, the extraordinary—is actually the whole point.

And honestly? Being present has been incredibly rewarding. I’m experiencing life in full color now instead of through a hazy filter. I remember conversations. I’m there for the small moments that actually matter. I’m building a life I’m proud of instead of one I’m trying to escape from.

The Strength That Isn’t Mine

If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this, it’s this: the hope and strength that has carried me through this year doesn’t come from me. It comes from God. I’m not special. I’m not superhuman. I’m just someone who finally admitted I needed help and found it in the most unexpected place.

Before this year, I thought faith was for other people—people who had it all together or people who needed a crutch. I didn’t realize that faith is actually for people who are honest enough to admit they don’t have it all together, and wise enough to accept help when it’s offered. God met me in my mess and didn’t ask me to clean up first. He just asked me to show up.

This journey has taught me that transformation isn’t about willpower or self-improvement strategies. It’s about surrender. It’s about admitting that the way you’ve been doing things isn’t working and being willing to try something radically different. It’s about letting go of control and trusting that there’s something—someone—bigger than you who actually has a better plan for your life.

To Anyone Who Needs to Hear This

If you’re reading this and you see yourself in my story—if you’re tired of waking up with regret, if you’re going through the motions but not really living, if you’re wondering if there’s more to life than what you’re experiencing—I want you to know that change is possible. You don’t have to hit rock bottom. You don’t have to lose everything. You just have to be honest with yourself and willing to take that first step.

Maybe your struggle isn’t with alcohol. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But whatever it is that’s keeping you from being fully present in your own life, I promise you that freedom is available. Hope is real. Transformation is possible. The Truth will set you free!

One year ago, I couldn’t have imagined writing these words. I couldn’t have imagined feeling this peace, this clarity, this joy. But here I am, and if it’s possible for me, it’s possible for you too.

Looking Forward

As I celebrate this one-year milestone, I’m not naive enough to think the journey is over. I know there will be challenges ahead. I know life will throw curveballs. But I also know that I’m not facing any of it alone anymore. I have God, I have Nina, I have a community of people who support me, and I have a clarity of purpose I’ve never had before.

I’m excited about the future in a way I haven’t been in years. Nina and I are building a life together on a foundation that’s solid. I’m pursuing my work with passion and presence. I’m showing up for my friends and family as the person they deserve. And most importantly, I’m showing up for myself—the real me, not the version that was hiding behind a bottle.

To my mom, whose prayers and faith never wavered: thank you. That look of joy on your face reminds me every day why this matters.

To Nina. She loved me through the fog and celebrates with me in the clarity. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for believing in us. Thank you for building this beautiful life with me.

To everyone who has supported me this year: thank you for your grace, your encouragement, and your presence.

To God, who met me in my mess and offered me a way out: thank you for the hope. I am grateful for the strength. Thank you for the new life. This year has been the best year of my life, and it’s only the beginning.

Here’s to being present. Here’s to being free. Here’s to the journey ahead.

Don’t be afraid to take that step. The step toward a life filled with love, grace, humility, and faith. Here’s a link to the Church I belong to, Cape Christian. It’s a non-denominational Church that anyone and everyone is welcomed. Or you can check out, Cape Christian Youtube.

One year down, a lifetime to go.

Anchored by His Word. Guided by His Truth.

Chad