Hey, it’s Matt with The Addiction Newsletter.

Here’s what’s inside today:

Let’s get started.

If you want some extra accountability from me, feel free to reply this newsletter with how many days it has been.

I read every single reply and do my best to reply to them. I am always here for you.

(Example: “Hey Matt, it’s been 33 days since I have used X”)

Days Since Last Use: 342

Thought: Today I realized that joy isn’t something you chase it’s something you notice. It’s the sound of rain, a message from a friend, the warmth of a meal you made yourself. For years I thought I needed more excitement, more relief, more everything. But recovery is teaching me how to see what’s already here. The small things I used to overlook are what keep me grounded now. Maybe peace isn’t about changing your life. Maybe it’s about finally being awake enough to see the life you already have.

At first, it doesn’t look like a chain. It looks like freedom. You reach for it because it feels light. It promises to take away the weight of everything else. It gives you a sense of control, a small spark of power in a world that often feels too big. You tell yourself, This helps me. This is my choice.

And for a while, it feels true. You move through your days a little smoother. The noise in your head quiets. You tell yourself you can stop whenever you want, that this is only temporary, that you’re in charge.

But slowly, the smoke begins to solidify. What once felt like control becomes something else entirely. You start reaching for it without thinking. It becomes part of your rhythm, part of your identity. The thought of being without it feels wrong, even dangerous.

Alan Carr says addiction hides behind the illusion of choice. It makes you believe you are holding the chain when, in reality, it’s holding you. The smoke wraps around quietly—no noise, no warning, just habit. By the time you notice, the links are already forming.

You still tell yourself you’re free. You point to the moments when you say no as proof. But real freedom isn’t the ability to pause; it’s the ability not to need. And deep down, you know that need has taken root.

The strange thing about this chain is that it isn’t made of metal. It’s made of belief. The belief that you can’t handle life without it. The belief that it makes you stronger, calmer, better. These are the lies that hold it together. And once you see them clearly, they begin to dissolve because smoke can’t stay solid when light shines through it.

You don’t break this chain by force. You break it by understanding. You realize that every bit of control it gives you is borrowed. Every moment of comfort is rented. The price is always the same your peace.

When you start to see the truth, the links loosen. You stop reaching for it out of habit. You begin to feel your own strength again. The first days feel strange. You’re lighter, but also uncertain. You keep expecting the weight to return. But it doesn’t. You start to breathe deeper. The air tastes different.

That’s when you realize: you were never weak. You were just convinced that you needed something outside yourself to feel whole. The smoke had you believing it was armor when it was really fog.

Carr says clarity is what ends addiction, not punishment or guilt. Once you see the chain for what it is illusion it can’t hold you. There’s nothing left to fight. You simply walk away.

The smoke will linger for a while. You’ll see it in old routines, in certain places, in moments of stress. But it won’t touch you anymore. You’ll watch it drift, powerless, fading into the air.

You’ll smile then, not because you conquered it, but because you finally understand. The chain was never real. The prison was never locked. You were free the moment you stopped believing the smoke had substance.

And in that moment of clarity, you return to yourself strong, steady, and unbound.

Addiction never enters your life shouting. It walks in looking like help. It promises control, courage, relief. And at first, it delivers just enough to make you believe. Then it begins to rewrite your world, your mornings, your moods, your meaning, all around its needs. What once felt like choice becomes obligation.

But here’s the truth: it never owned you. It only convinced you that you couldn’t live without it. When you see it clearly, the illusion breaks. You realize you were always strong enough; you just forgot where your strength came from.

Here is the win of the day for one of our readers. I will keep most of the information anonymous:

"Today, the thought crossed my mind that maybe I overreacted by leaving. For a moment, I missed them. Then I remembered all the times I cried alone while pretending everything was fine. I reminded myself that leaving wasn’t dramatic—it was necessary. I don’t need to go back to prove that I was right to go. That realization felt like peace."

(Note: If you have a win, no matter how large or how small, reply to this email and I’ll include it in the future.)

I refer thousands of people every month to detox and treatment centers across the United States. Depending on if you have insurance and what type, a lot of the time you can get treatment completely free. If not, it does cost money unfortunately.

If you’d like to use this free service, click below.

(Click here)

Disclaimer

This newsletter is for educational and motivational purposes only. It is not medical advice or a substitute for professional treatment. If you’re in crisis or need immediate help, please contact your local emergency services or the SAMHSA helpline at 1-800-662-HELP (4357)