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: 347

Thought: There is a silence that used to scare me. The kind that felt like emptiness. Now it feels like freedom. The absence of noise, of craving, of chaos. I used to fill every second because I couldn’t stand being alone with myself. Now I sit in that same space and feel whole.

You did not notice when it began. One day you looked into the mirror and saw someone who looked more confident, more relaxed, more alive. You thought, This is who I want to be. Every time you reached for that feeling, the reflection smiled back. You started to believe that you needed it to feel whole.

But the mirror was lying.

Alan Carr says addiction is a master of illusion. It makes you believe you are gaining control when you are quietly losing it. It makes you believe you are escaping pain when you are slowly creating more of it. You do not see it happen because it does not announce itself. It flatters you into forgetting.

At first, the reflection looked perfect. It made you feel light, safe, untouchable. But over time, something began to change. The eyes in the glass were still smiling, but you could feel something behind them—something hollow. You started to notice that the person looking back at you didn’t feel like you anymore.

You told yourself it was fine. That everyone changes. That this new version of you was stronger, smarter, sharper. But deep down, you knew. The mirror had stopped reflecting and started pretending.

The lie of addiction is that it convinces you to trade authenticity for illusion. It tells you that the version of you with it is better than the version of you without it. It makes you forget that the real you was never missing in the first place.

You try to fix the reflection. You clean the glass. You change the light. You tell yourself it will look right again once you’ve earned it. But the harder you try, the stranger it feels. The person in the mirror doesn’t respond anymore. They just stare back, waiting.

Then one day, you finally stop trying. You stop asking the mirror who you are. You turn away. You look around at the room, at the window, at the world beyond the glass. The light feels different. The air feels real. You see color and movement and imperfection, and you realize something. The mirror never showed you truth. It only showed you need.

Alan Carr says recovery is not about changing who you are. It is about remembering who you have always been. When you stop feeding the illusion, the reflection fades. What remains is not emptiness, but peace.

You walk away from the mirror, and for a while, it still calls to you. You catch glimpses of it in memory. You think about how easy it was to feel safe there. But every time you look back, you see it more clearly: it is only glass. It never knew your face.

The mirror does not shatter when you leave. It simply goes quiet. And in the quiet, you start to recognize yourself again not the reflection, but the person who no longer needs it.

You realize the truth that was waiting all along. The mirror did not forget you. You forgot yourself inside it.

Now, you are home.

Addiction tells you that stillness means something’s missing. That if you’re not chasing, you’re falling behind. But stillness isn’t the absence of life, it’s the space where life finally has room to breathe. When you stop trying to fill every quiet moment, you start to notice how much beauty was already there. Peace isn’t dull. It’s steady. It’s the sound of your own heart learning how to trust the silence again.

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

"This morning, I made coffee and realized I wasn’t waiting for something to happen. I used to need a reason to feel okay. Today, I just felt okay. No excitement, no rush—just steady. I never thought normal could feel this good."

(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)