Confessions: Finding My Voice

Maybe I should start with a confession.
Because if you’ve battled addiction, you probably don’t want to hear another polished speech from a counselor who—at least in your mind—has a picture-perfect life. Someone who couldn’t possibly understand what it feels like to wake up every day with a body that’s begging for escape. I know that feeling. I’ve sat in the back of those rooms, arms crossed, silently screaming, “Shut the fck up.”*

I’ve been there.
I’ve done that.

When someone tries to talk to you about addiction, every muscle tightens. You don’t even want to talk to yourself about it, much less to a stranger who might write your words down and use them against you. It’s easier to stay silent, to keep the worst of it locked behind your teeth, because admitting the truth—out loud—feels like handing someone a weapon.

That’s why sharing my story matters.
Not in a TED Talk kind of way. The people I want to reach aren’t necessarily scrolling motivational videos; some are drunk, high, or simply surviving. They’re in court-mandated classes, sitting in clinic waiting rooms, riding buses, staring out of train windows. Those are the spaces where my words need to land.

My AbFabNerd alliterations were born for exactly that purpose—to slip small sparks of truth into everyday places. But to make them real, I have to be real. F-bombs and all. I can’t hide the messy parts of my journey just to stay marketable. Authenticity is the bridge that lets people know I actually get it.

The challenge is balance. Some folks will tune out the minute I swear or mention sex. Others will only listen because I refuse to sugarcoat anything. I’m inconsistent, sure—but so is healing. And if my story helps even one person feel seen, then every uncomfortable truth is worth it.

I wish for you healing and personal growth.
Please, always prioritize self-care and mindfulness.

All my love,
AbFabNerd