The Deck Was Always Mine

Every so often, someone reads a piece I’ve written about recovery and reacts to it like it’s something that still needs to be explained or resolved. The question usually follows. If you could go back, before any of it started, what would you tell yourself?

I’ve heard that question in rooms where everyone was expected to answer it out loud. Most people reached for something simple and clean, the kind of line that sounds right because it’s easy to repeat. Say no. Stay strong. Choose differently.

That was never my answer.

Even then, I didn’t think in terms of avoidance. I thought in terms of awareness. I would have wanted to understand what I was stepping into instead of assuming I could bypass it with a single decision. Not because that would have changed the outcome, but because it would have removed the illusion that I was operating with more control than I actually had.

Around that same time, I was required to attend meetings. Three a week, signed slips, no real choice in the matter. I went because I had to. Over time, I started paying attention to something I hadn’t expected. People spoke without polish. They lost their place, repeated themselves, searched for words, and kept going. None of it broke the room. No one walked out.

That stayed with me.

It stripped away the idea that you only get one clean chance to say something worth hearing. I stopped overthinking before I spoke. I became more willing to step in, to lead, to say what needed to be said without waiting for the perfect version of it to arrive first.

So when people ask whether I would go back and remove that entire chapter, the answer is no.

Not because it was worth it. That’s too clean. Not because I would recommend it. I wouldn’t.

The answer is no because you don’t get to separate yourself from the parts that shaped you just because they’re difficult to explain. The version of me that avoids all of it isn’t a better version. He’s a different one, with different instincts and a different voice.

We’re all dealing from the same deck. The difference is in how it gets shuffled, and when you learn what’s actually in your hand.

This is mine.