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: 349

Thought: There was a time when I couldn’t imagine a day without it. It shaped my thoughts, my routines, my sense of who I was. I didn’t realize how small my world had become until I stepped outside of it. Addiction makes you believe your life depends on it. Recovery shows you it never did.

Now, the small things feel big again. The smell of rain, the warmth of morning light, the sound of laughter that isn’t forced. I used to chase intensity. Now I crave honesty. The world didn’t change, I did.

It was easy to open. That was the first thing you loved about it. You didn’t need a key or permission. When life felt too heavy, you could step through it and feel lighter. Every time you crossed that threshold, the noise faded, the world softened, and the ache inside you loosened. You told yourself it was just a place to rest. A little escape. You would return when things made more sense.

But the more you used the door, the more you depended on it. Soon, it became your answer to everything. Anger. Loneliness. Boredom. Stress. You didn’t even think about it anymore. You just reached for the handle, stepped inside, and shut the world out.

Alan Carr says addiction always begins as relief and ends as retreat. The first time you enter, it feels like freedom. The hundredth time, it feels like confinement. You tell yourself you are choosing to walk through, but really you are hiding.

After a while, the door starts to change. It doesn’t open to the same light it once did. The room on the other side feels smaller, darker, quieter. It used to help you breathe. Now it steals your air. But you keep going back, because the habit is stronger than the truth. You remember how it felt in the beginning, and you keep hoping it will feel that way again.

That hope is what keeps you trapped. The door does not lead where you think it does. It only leads back to itself. Every time you walk through, you end up in the same place—more tired, more empty, more lost.

One day, you stop. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s honesty. You reach for the handle and realize you don’t want to go in. You don’t even know what you’re looking for anymore. You just know you’re done circling the same path.

Carr says clarity breaks the illusion, not resistance. The moment you see that the door leads nowhere, you stop needing it. You don’t have to slam it shut or lock it. You simply walk away. The need fades because it has nowhere to hide.

At first, the world outside feels harsh. Every sound feels too loud. Every moment feels too raw. You’re not used to this kind of honesty with yourself. But you stay. You breathe through it. You let the discomfort teach you something that comfort never could—how to live without hiding.

Days pass. You notice that the door behind you gets smaller. You stop checking to see if it’s still there. You begin to build a life that doesn’t depend on escape. It’s not perfect, but it’s real.

You start to see that the peace you searched for behind that door was always waiting on this side. It was never about getting away. It was about learning to stay.

Carr says true freedom isn’t stepping through another door. It’s realizing you never needed one in the first place.

You turn around one day, and the door is gone. The wall is whole again. You smile, not because you won the battle, but because you finally see that there was never a battle to fight.

You were always standing in the right room. You just had to stop leaving it.

Addiction sells chaos as energy. It makes you believe that calm is emptiness, that rest is weakness. But chaos isn’t life, it’s exhaustion dressed as excitement.

When you step away from the storm, the quiet might feel strange at first, but it’s not emptiness. It’s recovery clearing space for peace to take root. Aliveness doesn’t need adrenaline. It needs presence.

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

"Someone offered me a drink at a party. I laughed and said no without explaining. I didn’t feel deprived, just free. For once, saying no didn’t mean missing out, it meant choosing myself. I left early, walked home, and felt proud instead of lonely."

(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)