Seven Years
Matt would never brag on himself.
He wouldn’t stop to celebrate what he considers “just doing the right thing.”
But I will.
Because yesterday marked seven years sober for the man I love with my whole heart.
Seven years since he chose to face his pain instead of running from it.
Seven years since he stopped numbing and started healing.
Seven years since he became the kind of man who held the entire world together for his kids—even after they lost their mother.
And somehow, it feels like—against the odds—he found it within himself to become something entirely new.
Evolving is the bravest thing a soul can do.
I truly believe that.
The longer I live the more I realize most people never fully step into themselves. Which makes it it’s hard to understand what it means as a human to turn an entire life around.
To have a deep enough integrity to choose accountability of oneself.
To look at the chaos, the hurt, the bad patterns—and say:
This isn’t who I want to be. I’m choosing something better.
That kind of courage is rare, especially in the face of addiction. Because it’s not just about one turning point.
It’s a thousand small choices—quiet ones, hard ones. The kind no one claps for.
Recovery is a steep and uncelebrated climb.
But Matt has been climbing it—steadily, faithfully—for seven years now and the most beautiful thing for me to see are the results in every life he touches.
I never knew the man who wrestled with darkness. The stories from that time feel like another world—B.C. and A.D. Except, it’s before and after life with alcohol.
And while I’ll never be glad for the weight he was made to carry, I am endlessly grateful for the man that it shaped.
What I have learned from witnessing sobriety is this:
That healing journey doesn’t just change one person.
It creates a ripple.
A wave of steadiness and love that touches everyone who ever stood close to it.
Loving Matt has even healed something in me.
As a family member to several alcoholics and addicts, just know that healing is possible…that someone can choose it? That put a spark of hope back in my life.
Who knew I’d fall in love with someone who takes me to weird hippie shows completely sober.
Who still dances like the most joyful person in the room—heart open, shaking out his bones with abandon.
Like life itself is a celebration.
And I guess that’s what it comes down to, isn't it?
Because for someone in recovery that’s exactly what life is: a hard-won, fiercely-earned celebration.
Happy sober birthday, baby.
Love you BIG. 💚
Hey everyone,
It means the world to me that you’re here. Sharing these pieces of my heart is my way of pushing past fear, step by step. I believe encouragement and love should never come with a paywall.
But if you choose to support my work financially, know that you’re not just keeping the lights on—you’re keeping my voice alive.
Thank you for showing up alongside me on this journey.
With love and gratitude,
Mary Katherine
It’s always one day at a time forever. I’m very familiar with the walk you’ve both been walking. Nine years were in the dark but 31 were in the light of AA. Being there affects lives in concentric circles because the damage of the dark affects many; especially those who’re closest. It’s a privilege to walk beside someone who’s in recovery because you find you’re growing too. My recovering late husband taught me so much about growth and allowed me to do so along with him. I’m a big believer in angels crossing our path when they are most needed. My sweetheart was mine. When his work was done, he left us; many of us and the world is now a bit darker. But there are other lights in the world now; your sweetheart being one of them. So I’ll say Happy Birthday to your bright light Mary Katherine. May you both celebrate many more one day at a time.
Beautiful tribute! Congrats to him! I'll be at 17 years this coming August, and it really does feel like all those years were a completely different lifetime I survived.