Category: Written by Jessica

Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time (and by Good Time, I Mean My Block Button Getting a Workout)

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

If you’ve been following me for a while, you already know: the block button and I are close—borderline inseparable. Like rice and beans, or me and a Law and Order SVU marathon, we just work.

I’ve used the block button with pride and precision over the years. Case in point: when someone crawls out of the woodwork on social media to drop an inappropriate or offensive comment, I don’t waste time arguing or debating. Oh no. Blocked. Swiftly. Efficiently. I ask myself, “Does this spark joy?” and if the answer is no—goodbye.

Then there was that time a distant cousin decided to reach out. You’d think it was to offer support after I lost my oldest sister. Nope. They popped up just to complain about my other sisters. Did we have a close bond before this? Absolutely not. Did I see this as an opportunity to build one? Also no. Blocked. Not here for surprise family drama disguised as condolences.

Fast forward to the latest episode of Who Wants to Be Blocked Next? Another family member—one I’ve literally never had a relationship with—decides to get offended because I’m choosing to…continue not having a relationship with them. Suddenly, they’re expecting baby photos of my daughter, demanding conversation, and when I politely (okay, firmly) say, “No, thank you,” they flood my phone with texts escalating toward me because I’m not letting them into my life after 39 years of them not being there.

They too were blocked.

The moral of the story? This year has already kicked off with enough chaos to make the apocalypse look like a warm-up act. Our timelines and newsfeeds are overflowing with difficult circumstances beyond our control, and in a world that feels increasingly out of hand, protecting our peace (and by extension, our sobriety) isn’t just optional—it’s essential.

Here’s the thing: boundaries aren’t just a nice idea—they’re survival. If you’re not sure what your limits are, it’s time to slow down and let your body do the talking. Does your heart start racing like it’s trying to win a marathon when someone texts or calls? Does your stomach feel like it’s being dropped off a cliff at the thought of dealing with a particular person? Does the mere idea of letting someone into your life fill you with a sense of impending doom?

Take a breath. You already know what your limits are. You just need to honor them and protect yourself.

In 2025, let’s focus on controlling what we can, and that includes deciding if and how we let people into our lives. Not everyone deserves a seat at your table, and that’s perfectly okay.

Now it’s your turn: what’s the wildest, most ridiculous, or downright satisfying reason you’ve ever had to hit the block button? Please reply and share your stories of boundary-setting brilliance below—I’d love to read them in between baby diaper changes!

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Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-54 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

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What My Daughter’s Birth Taught Me About Trusting Myself

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

Sobriety taught me to confront the unknown—and to come out stronger for it. These past two weeks have been a testament to that truth.

The birth of my daughter, Amara, was originally planned for December 29th, the start of my 39th week of pregnancy. At 39 years old, categorized as “advanced maternal age,” I was deemed high-risk, and the idea of a scheduled induction gave me a sense of control in a journey fraught with unpredictability.

But life had other plans. On Thursday, December 19th, during one of my routine twice-weekly prenatal visits, the tone shifted. The nurse noted protein in my urine, and my blood pressure had spiked. I tried to rationalize it: “It’s because I’ve been so worried about my mom.” My doctor, steady and serious, gently countered, “Regardless of the cause, your risk for preeclampsia is significant. Be prepared to deliver sooner than expected since you’re already at term.”

Tears welled up. Yes, I longed to meet my daughter, but not yet. I had clung to December 29th as a lifeline, a date that gave me time to brace for the unknown. Despite the readiness of Amara’s nursery, I didn’t feel ready to face labor or step into motherhood. After leaving the doctor’s office, I raced through a grocery store, filling my cart with anything I could think of. Panic and resolve battled within me as the reality sank in: I couldn’t control this.

Sobriety had prepared me for navigating fear and uncertainty, but this was a new test. Still, deep down, I knew—as I had before—that I would face this unknown and emerge stronger.

That afternoon, the doctor called. “It’s time. Report to the hospital at 9 PM for induction.” Pulling over on the drive home, I let out heavy sobs. This was it.

Two days later, at 7:12 AM on December 21st, Amara was born, and I crossed the threshold into motherhood. Though I’ve grown confident in navigating many areas of my life, I’m reminded daily of how much I still have to learn.

Coming home with Amara on Christmas Day.

Did you know diapers now have yellow lines that turn blue when wet? Or that feeding a baby while they’re lying flat can lead to ear infections? Breastfeeding, they say, is best—but how can you know if your baby is getting enough? That nebulous uncertainty gnawed at me until a pediatrician appointment confirmed what my inner knowing had been whispering: Amara wasn’t getting enough and it was hurting her. That day, I shifted her nutrition plan, supplementing breast milk with formula to meet her needs.

Before the doctor’s confirmation, I couldn’t explain how I knew something was off. My sister called it mother’s instinct. The truth is, my inner knowing—an unshakable clarity—has guided me time and again when I’ve slowed down enough to listen. Becoming a mother didn’t grant me this gift; my sobriety uncovered it years ago. 

As I step into 2025 fumbling with pumps, bottles, and dirty diapers that surprisingly smell delicious (is that weird?), I hold onto this: I have an inner knowing that’s always been with me. My recovery gives me the clarity to tap into it, and in moments of stillness between Amara’s coos and cries, I can close my eyes and listen. That knowing—steady and true—will lead me forward this coming year.

Wishing you and yours a peaceful 2025, thank you for being a part of this journey. 

Upcoming Opportunities

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services and get on the waiting list!

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Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

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Four Years Sober Today: Facing Possible Loss Without Escape

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in About a Loved One, Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

“How do you finally stop worrying? You realize that the version of yourself that will be able to handle every situation that might arise in your life will be born in the precise moment that situation comes to be. No matter where your path might take you, or where you go, the version of yourself that you will need in those moments will emerge right as you need it and not a second before. You cannot call upon all of the parts of yourself to exist at once. Different versions of you are needed for various aspects of your life. Find peace in knowing that you are more than one thing, and within the layers of who you are-both visible and invisible-exists a strength that is equal to or more powerful than anything you may come to face.”

– Brianna Wiest, The Pivot Year

Today marks four years of continuous sobriety—a milestone that feels both miraculous and grounding. At 34, I was so consumed by alcohol that I developed alcoholic liver disease, yet here I am, sober with a healthy liver. It’s a victory I honor deeply, but I also hold space for the truth: today is just another day in the lifelong journey of recovery. Sobriety isn’t a magical fix; it doesn’t shield us from life’s hardships. But it does offer clarity, resilience, and the capacity to face life as it is.

This clarity has been my anchor this past week as I navigate a heart-wrenching reality. My 85-year-old mother in Costa Rica fell and broke her hip, requiring surgery. Since then, complications have set in, and yesterday she was found unresponsive. At nearly nine months pregnant, I can’t travel to be by her side. I can’t hold her hand, speak to her, or comfort her. Instead, I sit here, folding tiny baby clothes and waiting for WhatsApp updates from my older sisters.

With my momma.

The uncertainty is crushing. Thoughts crash over me like relentless waves: Was our last conversation truly the last? Did I hug her for the final time when I said goodbye? Will she ever meet my daughter, Amara? The pain radiates through my spirit, raw and unyielding. But amidst the ache, I realize something profound—there is no pull to escape this grief through alcohol. It wouldn’t lessen the hurt, nor would it honor the love I carry for her.

Reflecting on my father’s death in 2018, I see how sobriety has transformed my ability to endure loss or the possibility of it. Back then, I traveled to Costa Rica in a drunken haze, narrowly sobering up for his funeral. I was riddled with shame—sneaking aguardiente to numb myself, only for my mother to find it the next morning. She looked at me with disappointment and hissed, “Why are you drinking so much? You’re going to end up like your cousin (who died from drinking).” Her words stung, but my addiction muted their weight.

Now, as I face my mother’s declining health, Brianna Wiest’s words resonate deeply: “The version of yourself that you will need in those moments will emerge right as you need it and not a second before.” Sobriety has given me the tools to face whatever comes next—not with fear or avoidance, but with grace. Whether my mother miraculously recovers (and I’m rooting for that) or these are her final days, I know I can stand in this truth without alcohol, even as it feels like an emotional roller coaster.

Just yesterday, my sisters walked into my mother’s hospital room to find a priest giving her last rites. Yet this morning, she was awake and alert, complaining about a headache and asking for coffee. This roller coaster of emotions, of hope and uncertainty, is exhausting, but I know I am ready to face whatever comes next.

As I move into my fifth year of sobriety, I carry with me self-trust and confidence. Life will continue to test me, but I now meet it with an open heart and steady resolve—because sobriety has shown me that I can.

Upcoming Opportunities

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services!

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Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

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“If you have a problem with alcohol, just stop drinking.” Yeah. Okay.

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Written by Jessica

Recently, I overheard someone who clearly knew little about addiction say, “If you have a problem with alcohol, just stop drinking.”

If only it were that simple. People wouldn’t be revolving through treatment facilities, finding support in sobriety groups for years, and wrestling with the relentless pull of addiction if stopping was just a matter of will. This week, I had the chance to share a piece in a writing class led by author Marion Roach Smith, where I spoke candidly about how consuming and difficult it is to live with alcohol addiction.

Check it out below.

After five weeks in rehab, there I was, facing my dismissal day tomorrow. Deep down, there was that familiar, sinking feeling. I felt it every time I tried to convince myself I was heading back to “normal.” I tried to replay everyone’s kind words, but I couldn’t find any comfort in them. Reaching into my bra, I pulled out the sleep meds I’d stashed there, swallowed them quickly, and hoped sleep would take me away from the gnawing sense of impending doom.

The next morning, my friend who’d been looking after Cruz since I’d gone into treatment was there, waiting to take me home. I stepped into the sunlight, and we hugged tightly. It felt so good to be held by someone from the outside world again. We went straight to the grocery store, where the smell of cilantro in the produce aisle made my mouth water. I filled my basket with bright fruits and healthy snacks, determined to keep up the balanced eating habits I’d learned in treatment.

But the drive back to my house was a blur. Though I was sober, my mind felt foggy. My friend came in with me, did a quick sweep of the house to make sure there were no hidden bottles, then hugged me and asked, “Alright, girl, you gonna be good?” I hesitated, my mind spinning, but I forced a nod. “Yeah, it’ll be tough, but I’ll be good.” As I shut the door behind her, I turned and looked around my house, my supposed sanctuary. All I could see was emptiness, the painful echo of broken dreams.

So, it’s just you and me, I thought, staring at the silent rooms. Just me and this house full of ghosts. I went to turn on the TV, but it was dead—I’d fallen into it drunk one night, breaking the cables. I opened my laptop, but immediately shut it again at the sight of a picture of my late boyfriend, smiling and carefree. I moved around the house, from chair to couch, but everywhere I sat felt hollow.

Then, like the first drop of a storm, the thought of drinking slipped into my mind. It quickly spread, filling me with a fiendish desire I couldn’t shake. I knew I shouldn’t, knew it was dangerous. But the rationalizations came fast. I can order a bottle and just hold it, I don’t have to drink it, I told myself as I scrolled through the alcohol delivery app, adding a bottle to my cart. I can pour it down the drain after a few sips, I reasoned as I completed my purchase.

I reactivated my old routine of pretending everything was fine. I called my sister, my voice upbeat. “Hey! Just letting you know I’m finally home … Yeah, it’s definitely weird … I promise I’ll call if anything … Yeah, I’m going to bed early, I’m just so sleepy…” I texted a few friends, letting them know I was “good” and going to “bed.” It was only 7:30 PM. I was not going to bed.

The bottle was in my hands, then at my lips. The burn of alcohol slid down my throat, making me gag; I’d forgotten the sting. I drank straight from the bottle as if I’d stumbled upon water in a desert.

I had left the protective cocoon of treatment—a so-called fortress meant to shield me. I was supposed to emerge as a butterfly, ready to soar, but my wings were still crumpled. I crashed hard. Lying flat on the floor, “Nights in White Satin” by the Moody Blues played on repeat, each verse carving deeper into my soul:

Never reaching the end
Letters I’ve written
Never meaning to send…

I took one last breath, closed my eyes, and let myself slip back under, drowning once more in the dark waters of my addiction.

Upcoming Opportunities

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. Access here 

Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

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When Control Slips Away

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

“the battle is over 

i’m done fighting myself

stressing over what i’ve done 

or what i should have done 

simply does not help

i want to see myself without pointing fingers 

to move forward with grace 

to see mistakes as lessons 

and allow them to improve 

my future actions

instead of being attached to the past 

i want to peacefully connect to the present”

-Yung Pueblo

This ongoing fight we often find ourselves in goes beyond what this poem alone can express. It’s not just about wrestling with the person we used to be, especially in our case when we drank—the mistakes, the regrets—but also with the uncontrollable forces that shape our lives.

Take this past week, for example. Hurricane Helene brought devastation across the southeastern U.S., and living here in Tampa, near the bay, meant anxiety set in quickly as soon as the news buzzed about a potential hurricane moving up the Gulf of Mexico. I had a plan for my week, but in an instant, that plan no longer mattered. Almost mockingly, I could hear my mother’s voice echoing: “Uno pone y Dios dispone” (we make plans, and then there’s God’s plan).

As the county’s evacuation order rolled out, the frustration bubbled up inside me. The heat of resentment was almost palpable—toward Florida’s climate, what felt like a slow response, even the inconvenience of leaving home. Why can’t evacuation be a calm, organized process instead of this panic? I thought while hurriedly packing Cruz’s things—his food, bed, bones, and snacks—under his watchful gaze.

What I missed this week was an important reminder: it’s crucial to let go of attachment to things we can’t control. Peace comes when we can release that grip. Until we do, we’ll keep fighting—not just against ourselves but against the world around us. My week would have been much easier on my body if I had leaned more on that, but I’ll give myself grace as I’m only a human, and hurricanes are incredibly stressful and terrifying events.

Reflect:
When was the last time you found yourself in a struggle against something out of your control? How do you catch yourself and bring yourself back?

Want to Explore More on Control?
I have a worksheet on letting go of what’s out of your control and an episode from the Bottomless to Sober Podcast on control. You can find both linked here.

Upcoming Opportunities

Book Study on the Book of Boundaries. Starts October 3 with The Luckiest Club. Register here.

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. Access here 

Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

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I Had a choice: Either Keep Living in Fear or Face the Truth

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Written by Jessica

Fear. What a beast.

Before I quit drinking, fear had me in its grip. It wasn’t just a passing worry—it was the invisible thread pulling every string in my life. I lived with the constant dread that my secret relationship with alcohol would be exposed, so I masked it by excelling in every other area. I was always the first to arrive at work and often the last to leave. No deadline was missed, no project detail overlooked. No matter how sick I felt from last night’s drinking, I powered through the hangovers, desperate to keep up the illusion that everything was fine. That fear—of being found out—was stronger than any withdrawal symptom.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I’ll never forget the day one of my students, Zavion, blurted out, “Ms. Dueñas, you smell like alcohol!” He said it with the carefree honesty only a middle schooler can muster, smiling as if he didn’t realize the weight of his words. I quickly turned away, my stomach knotting with anxiety, hoping he’d be distracted soon by the chaos of the classroom. While Zavion probably forgot the comment in minutes, I carried it with me, a stark reminder that I was always walking on the edge of exposure.It wasn’t until later that I realized the most dangerous part of my life wasn’t the fear of being caught—it was the fact that I was slowly killing myself in silence. I had a choice: either keep living in fear or face the truth and reclaim my life. For me, that meant going to the extreme and writing an Op-ed that went viral, spilling my truth to the world. But not everyone has to go that route.

If you’re keeping this deadly secret to yourself, know this: you don’t need to broadcast your struggles to the world, but opening up to someone can make all the difference. That one conversation could be the difference between isolation and support, between feeling lost and finding hope.You just need to tell someone—one person who can support you. That simple act can transform your journey from isolating in fear to finding real help.

Upcoming Opportunities

Book Study on the Book of Boundaries. Starts October 3 with The Luckiest Club. Register here.

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. Access here 

Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

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Unraveling the Confidence Myth: My Journey from Self-Doubt to Self-Acceptance

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

“i want to apologize to all the women i have called beautiful

before i’ve called them intelligent or brave

i am sorry i made it sound as though

something as simple as what you’re born with

is all you have to be proud of

when you have broken mountains with your wit

from now on i will say things like

you are resilient, or you are extraordinary

not because i don’t think you’re beautiful

but because i need you to know

you are more than that”

― Rupi Kaur

Confidence is not something I was born with, nor was it something I was taught to have. Growing up, the message I received—both at home and from society—was clear: as a little girl with a complicated relationship with food, I was only acceptable if I was thin. From a young age, I found myself in a relentless battle with my body, constantly trying to mold it into something it wasn’t.

As a young woman, I took drastic measures, undergoing weight loss surgery in the hopes that it would finally give me the self-esteem I desperately craved. I believed that if I could fit into the narrow box defined by societal standards, confidence would naturally follow, and life would become easier.

But reality had other plans. Food had always been my comfort, and after the surgery, when food was no longer an option, alcohol quickly took its place as my go-to escape from life’s stressors. My body changed, but my mindset did not. I hadn’t done the internal work needed to believe I was worthy, and despite the weight loss, I remained trapped in a cycle of self-doubt, still feeling not good enough.

This mindset led me to settle into unhealthy romantic relationships. I would tell myself things like, “What if Keith is the best I could do?” even after catching him with another woman. Or, “Maybe Matthew will do better this time,” ignoring the fact that Matthew knew better all along but chose not to change.

The shame surrounding my growing addiction to alcohol kept me silent, further cementing the false belief that I was not enough. Even though I earned accolades like being named the 2019 Kentucky State Teacher of the Year and the 2019 Woman of the Year in the Louisville community, these honors meant nothing when I looked in the mirror.

It wasn’t until I found the courage to let myself be fully seen—owning the fact that I was a woman battling alcohol addiction—that my confidence and self-esteem began to blossom. Speaking openly about my addiction not only led me to the resources I needed to get and stay sober, but it also gave me the strength to walk away from anything that didn’t serve me—jobs, relationships, and any space where I didn’t belong.

I finally understood that I didn’t need to force myself to fit into any mold—whether it was a societal expectation or a toxic relationship. With the clarity that comes from an unclouded mind, the old narratives lost their power.

Embracing my recovery from addiction became the foundation for building my confidence and self-esteem.

Reflect: What do you need to foster your confidence and let it grow?

Upcoming Opportunities

Book Study on the Book of Boundaries. Starts October 3 with The Luckiest Club. Register here.

Life Coaching Closed for new clients until 2025, but click here to learn about my coaching services!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. Access here 

Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

Subscribe below to get these posts in your inbox in the future.

From Good Girl to Strong Woman: The Power of Speaking Up

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

I recently came across a powerful message from Dr. Nicole LePera (you can follow her on Instagram) that I shared with a group of sober women. Here it is:

Reminder for recovering “good girls:”

  1. You can stand up for yourself and let someone know you won’t tolerate certain behaviors.
  2. When someone is rude, you don’t need to laugh it off or pretend it’s okay.
  3. “I don’t find that funny” lets people know that joke didn’t work for you.
  4. You’re not too sensitive because you express how you feel.
  5. If someone doesn’t accept your answer, it’s not a cue to keep explaining. It’s a sign they don’t respect boundaries.

While all these points are important, I want to focus on the first one about standing up for yourself.

At a doctor’s appointment this week, a medical assistant went to take my vitals. I noticed the blood pressure cuff she was using was too small for my arm and mentioned it. She dismissed my concern, saying it was fine. When the reading came back high, I knew something was wrong since my blood pressure has been normal since quitting drinking. I spoke up, insisting by saying, “I need my blood pressure taken with a cuff that fits my arm. That is not my blood pressure. I check it myself in the mornings at home.” After some reluctance, she found a larger cuff and retook my blood pressure, which then showed a normal reading.

This experience reminded me that medical professionals, despite their expertise, are human and can make mistakes, making it crucial to be an active participant in our own care, rather than just a passive recipient.

Before sobriety, I often let others dictate what happened next in our interactions, even if it wasn’t what I wanted. My secret addiction to alcohol made me feel unworthy of defending myself. Convinced that I didn’t deserve protection, whether it was with family, friends, romantic partners, or even in medical settings, I let others’ voices override my own.

Recovery has helped clear the fog that once clouded my mind, allowing me to reconnect with my body and find my voice. Sobriety empowers us to actively participate in our interactions, whether with loved ones, colleagues, or professionals. It helps us listen to and trust ourselves again.

Remember, your voice matters, and you have the right to stand up for yourself.

Reflect: How has standing up for yourself evolved? Is this a strength of yours or is this something you are still working on?

Upcoming Opportunities

Life Coaching Let’s work on the stories you tell yourself, together. Schedule your free consultation here!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. Access here 

Podcast Listen to the Bottomless to Sober Podcast. Episodes 1-53 are live! Episode 52 features NYT Bestselling author, Jessica Lahey!

Subscribe below to get these posts in your inbox in the future.

To Go or Not to Go: Assessing the Risks of Dining Out with Alcohol as a Sober Person

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

It’s a common worry: “I don’t want to be left out because I don’t drink,” or “If I skip happy hour or a boozy meal, will I stop getting invited altogether?” Many people face these thoughts when they’re changing their relationship with alcohol but still want to socialize with friends who drink.

A person who is strong in their recovery can go anywhere and be fine, but the question remains: how do you know if you’re ready to accept an invite like this?

This week, I had the opportunity to go to a dinner filled with belly laughs with my colleagues who drink, and this was how I knew I would be fine.

Photo by Florian Schmetz on Unsplash

Whoever you are breaking bread with should know you’re not drinking. When you’re navigating social events while maintaining sobriety, it’s crucial to let someone in the group know that you’re not drinking. They don’t need to know your full story or personal traumas, but having at least one trusted soul in that group aware of your choice provides a sense of accountability and support. For example, my colleagues knew from the moment I walked into my job interview that I wanted to model recovery for college students. They know alcohol is not an option for me, period. While my situation and how open I am about my story is unique, the principle remains: you can’t do this alone, and someone should be aware of your decision not to drink. If you don’t feel safe communicating a plan to not drink to at least one person in the group, maybe you’re not ready to say yes.

Examine your attitude about people who do still drink. When you see others drinking, do you feel a longing for what they are having? Or is there some rage that rises up in you where you want to cry and scream at the world, shaking your fist as you bellow, “It’s not fair that I can’t drink?”

If seeing others drink makes you yearn for what they’re having or fills you with resentment, it might be best to decline the invitation until you’re more secure in your sobriety. Recovery isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but if you struggle to recognize that your relationship with alcohol is not the same as your peers, and you feel a strong desire to drink, protect yourself and stay home until you feel stronger.

On the other hand, have you seen the light now that you’re sober and wish sobriety on everyone? Is it nearly impossible to wrap your mind around the fact that people you know still ingest this poison into their bodies? If your sobriety has made you want to preach its benefits to that friend as they get ready to consume a flight of shots, and you find it hard to understand why others still drink, it’s also wise to stay home. Recovery is your journey; what others do with their bodies is their business. Social events are not the place to silently judge or try to convert others. Remember, at some point, you were in their shoes. Gifting myself moments of joy with my colleagues was only possible because I focused on enjoying their company and humor without judgment.

Have an exit strategy. Just as my teammates knew I wouldn’t be drinking, they also knew I wouldn’t be out late. Giving yourself permission to leave whenever you’re ready alleviates the pressure of ignoring your body’s signals when it’s tired. Stressing your body increases the risk of wanting to drink, so it’s important to honor your limits and exit when you need to.

Accept that you’re on this path, which will look different from others’ journeys. Acknowledge that you’ll need to order a water, choose from the mocktail section of the menu, or ask for an alcohol-free version of a cocktail. Any awkwardness that may come from advocating for your unique needs is well worth waking up the next day without worrying about what you did the night before. I wasn’t born to be just like everyone else, so when I start to worry about standing out, I remind myself that I wasn’t meant to conform in the first place—neither were you. When you join sobriety support group communities, including spaces like The Luckiest Club, where I host meetings, you get to see that you aren’t alone.

Ultimately, everyone finds their readiness for certain experiences at different times, if ever. Maybe you have zero desire to partake in a social event where alcohol is served, or maybe you don’t feel ready yet. Wherever you are, it’s fine. You grow at the pace that’s meant for you, not on someone else’s timeline.

Upcoming Opportunities

Life Coaching Let’s work on the stories you tell yourself, together. Schedule your free consultation here!

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. Join the waitlist for the next round here here!

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“It’s not about feeling better. It’s about getting better at feeling.”

Posted on by Jessica Dueñas in Current Recovery Challenges, Written by Jessica

“It’s not about feeling better. It’s about getting better at feeling.”

– Dr. Gabor Maté

Just a little over twenty-four hours ago, as I said goodbye to my family in Costa Rica at the San José airport, I felt a shift in my body, releasing gentle sobs. My partner, his mother, his son, and I had just cleared airport security, concluding a whirlwind week in Costa Rica. This trip, filled with emotional highs and lows, began with the sudden and heartbreaking death of my eldest sister, Sandra, on Friday, the 24th.

My eldest sister, Sandra.

She passed away just an hour after we arrived.

Last Friday, my brother-in-law, Toti, who has been married to my second oldest sister, Lorena, since before I was born, picked us up and informed me that Sandra was “delicada” (delicate). I had noticed her silence in our “Hermanas” WhatsApp group chat over the previous few days and had promised myself I’d check in on her as soon as we got to Costa Rica.

“Y puedo ir a ver a Sandra?” I asked. “Can I go see Sandra?”

“No, vieras es que está delicada, y nadie puede entrar a verla.” Toti responded tenderly, explaining that she was in medical isolation due to her condition.

A familiar sinking feeling settled in my stomach. By now, I’ve experienced enough loss to recognize that sensation, the one that tells me something is profoundly wrong even before I have all the evidence.

My body knows when I’m about to lose someone before I do, and over time, I’ve learned to understand this intuitive language. When she warns me of an approaching loss, I cocoon myself in the reminder that there’s nothing I can’t face. So when Lorena called me within the hour to notify me of Sandra’s passing, I knew I was safe to feel the shattering blow.

A younger version of me would have been terrified to cry in front of strangers, especially in the middle of a coffee shop, where I was when I received the news. I would have fought the tears and tried to hold them back. Instead, I let my chest heave with sobs and let the tears flow freely. I allowed myself to feel the unfairness of losing my sister at 66 when many of our elders have lived well into their 80s. I cried for her husband, who has been with her since they were teens. They were supposed to grow old together—y ahora qué? And I cried for my mother, who, at 85, shouldn’t have to say goodbye to her child.

With my sisters and mom. Possibly around 2015.

Grief reminds us of all the “shoulds” and “supposed tos” that are shattered by the reality that we can’t control outcomes.

In Costa Rica, funeral services and mass are held within 24 hours of a person’s passing. So I paused my trip with my partner’s family to attend my sister’s services. One of the most moving moments was when my niece, Alexa, Sandra’s youngest, shared beautiful remarks in remembrance of her mother. She spoke of her mom being reunited with loved ones who had long departed and said she knew her mom was dancing to Cuban music in a heavenly space with my dad.

Though we had different fathers, my dad entered my Costa Rican sisters’ lives shortly after my mom came to the United States. He always helped my mom support her children left in Costa Rica. Papi was loved, especially for his generous heart and of course, love of dancing. So to hear his name called upon at my sister’s funeral moved me SO much.

At Playa Negra in Limón, Costa Rica.

For the rest of the week, I traveled with my partner’s family, introducing them to my family’s culture and letting them see me. There were times I needed breaks, times I needed to cry, times I needed to ground myself in the sand or sit in the rain. Two things can be true at once: I could travel to a country that holds so many precious memories for me and share it with others, while also feeling the familiar sensation of grief in my body.

I feel it daily—for my father, Ian, my little bean lost in January, and now, Sandra.

Sobriety allows me to move through all the feelings, even conflicting ones, without self-judgment.

There is no right way to grieve.

Playa Piuta. Limón, Costa Rica.

Reflect: In moments like these, how do you navigate grief and the rest of everyday life? Feel free to email me at jessica@bottomlesstosober.com and share your thoughts and experiences.

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