67. Acclimating To Life After Returning Home From Treatment
It’s been a month and a half since I returned home from rehab, and it feels like I'm learning to live all over again. Everything is the same but also completely different. There’s an odd sense of disconnection as I try to acclimate to a life I once knew so well, yet it feels like I’m walking through it for the first time. When I left for treatment, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel coming back. Part of me feared I’d fall right back into old habits, that the pull of my former life would be too strong to resist. Another part of me was excited to start over, to finally live the life I’d wanted but couldn’t quite grasp because of addiction.
Now that I’m here, it’s both harder and easier than I imagined. Easier in the sense that the cravings aren’t as overpowering as they were when I first got clean. Harder because there’s a new level of responsibility I carry with me, and every day feels like a test of my willpower and commitment. I can’t afford to let my guard down, but at the same time, I’m learning how to live without feeling like I’m constantly in crisis mode.
Returning to work has been one of the most grounding parts of this journey so far. I didn’t realize how important having a routine was until I got back to my job. Work provides structure, a sense of purpose, and an anchor to my day-to-day life. During rehab, every moment was accounted for—group sessions, therapy, meals, exercise. There was always something to keep me occupied. I worried that without that structure, I’d fall apart when I came home but work has filled that gap, giving me a reason to keep moving forward.
At first, it was daunting. Going back to work after months away felt like stepping into a world that had moved on without me. I was nervous about how people would see me—would they notice the changes, would they judge me, would they still trust me? Thankfully, those fears faded quickly once I got into the swing of things. My coworkers have been surprisingly supportive, though I haven’t been completely open with everyone about where I’ve been or what I’ve gone through. Only a few close colleagues, my boss being one of them, know the truth, and they’ve been incredibly understanding. It’s comforting to know that I don’t have to face everything alone, even when I’m not fully transparent with everyone.
What I didn’t expect was how therapeutic working could be. There’s something about staying busy, being productive, and having clear goals that helps me stay focused on my recovery. When I’m at work, I don’t have time to dwell on my past mistakes or get lost in regret. I have tasks to complete, people to help, and projects to finish. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and reminds me that I’m capable, even after everything I’ve been through. In a way, work is a form of therapy—it’s a place where I can prove to myself that I’m still valuable, that I can contribute, and that I’m more than just my struggles.
But it’s not all smooth sailing. Some days, the weight of everything catches up with me. There are moments when I feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of staying sober, maintaining relationships, and keeping up with the demands of my job. On those days, it’s tempting to shut down or escape into unhealthy thoughts, but I’ve learned that reaching out for support is key. I’ve stayed in touch with some of the people I met in rehab, and we check in on each other regularly. Having a community of people who understand exactly what I’m going through has been a lifeline. Even though I’m home and out of the structured environment of treatment, I know I’m not navigating this alone.
Another adjustment has been facing the outside world and all the old triggers that come with it. In rehab, I was in a bubble—protected from the things that pushed me toward using. Now, I’m back in an environment where those temptations are real and sometimes right in front of me. I’ve had to be vigilant about setting boundaries and being mindful of where I go and who I spend time with. I’d be lying if I said it isn’t hard. There are places and people I care about deeply that I know I need to avoid for now, maybe forever and that hurts. One thing I’ve come to understand is that protecting my sobriety has to come first, even if it means making difficult choices.
One of the best parts about being home is reconnecting with my family and my dog, Bumpy. I missed them so much while I was away, and being around them now reminds me of why I’m doing this. They’ve all been through so much because of my addiction, and I owe it to them—and to myself—to stay on this path. There’s still guilt, of course, especially when I think about all the times I’ve let them down, but instead of letting that guilt paralyze me, I’m using it as motivation to keep going, to keep improving, to show up for them in ways I couldn’t before.
Looking ahead, I know the road isn’t going to be easy. There will be challenges and setbacks, but I’m learning to take things one day at a time. Work has been an incredible part of my healing process, but I know I can’t rely solely on it to keep me grounded. I need to stay committed to the things I learned in rehab—attending therapy, practicing self-care, taking my psych meds, and staying connected with my support system. Life after treatment is full of ups and downs, but every day that I wake up sober is a day I’m winning. There’s a quiet strength in that, a strength I didn’t know I had before. For now, I’m focused on building a life that reflects the person I’m becoming, not the person I used to be and that’s enough for today.
And remember, if you’re struggling, or know someone who is struggling, please don’t lose hope. If that had happened to me, I wouldn’t be able to help spread awareness today.
