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: 336

Thought: I was driving yesterday and realized I wasn't planning my next escape. For so long, every moment was about managing the next one. How do I get through this meeting? When can I use? What's my excuse? My whole life was just a series of calculations about when I could feel different than I felt. But yesterday, I was just driving. Listening to music. Watching the sky. Not running from anything. Not counting down to anything. Just existing in the moment without needing it to be something else. That constant noise in my head, that endless negotiation with myself, it's just... quiet now. I forgot what that felt like. To be present without fighting myself. To not need an exit strategy from my own life. This peace I've been chasing? It wasn't hiding in any substance. It was waiting here, in the stillness I was too afraid to sit in. Recovery gave me back the one thing I thought was impossible. Comfort in my own presence.

Here's the thing nobody tells you when you start: the substance doesn't solve the problem. It is the problem. And the relief you feel when you use? That's not it helping you. That's it temporarily stopping its own attack.

You think you need it to relax. To cope. To handle stress. To get through the day. But ask yourself this: what were you stressed about before you ever started using? You handled it. You got through it. You were fine.

Then the substance came along and whispered a promise. Use me and things will be easier. Better. More manageable. So you did. And at first, maybe it felt true. But slowly, so slowly you didn't notice, it started creating the very problems it claimed to solve.

Now you can't relax without it. Can't cope without it. Can't handle stress without it. Not because life got harder. But because the substance made you believe you were weaker. It created a dependency and convinced you it was support.

Think about it like this. Imagine wearing a heavy backpack every single day. Fifty pounds of weight pressing down on your shoulders, making every step harder, every task more exhausting. Then someone offers you a break. They take the backpack off for ten minutes and you feel incredible. Light. Free. Relieved.

So you thank them. You feel grateful. You think they're helping you. But here's the truth: they're the ones who put the backpack on you in the first place. And in ten minutes, they're going to strap it right back on. And you're going to thank them again next time they remove it.

That's what using is. The substance creates the discomfort, then offers temporary relief from it, and you mistake that relief for a benefit. You're not getting something. You're briefly escaping something it created.

Before you used, you were whole. Complete. Capable of handling life exactly as it was. The substance didn't add to that. It subtracted. It took away your natural ability to cope and sold it back to you in smaller and smaller doses.

Every time you think "I need this to relax," what you really mean is "I need this to stop making me tense." Every time you think "I need this to feel good," what you really mean is "I need this to stop making me feel bad." The substance isn't giving you anything. It's just pausing its own punishment.

And somehow, you've been convinced that losing this cycle would be a tragedy. That quitting means giving up something valuable. But you can't give up something you never actually had.

People who don't use aren't suffering. They're not gritting their teeth through life, wishing they could use but holding back through sheer willpower. They're just living. Naturally. Easily. The way you used to before the substance convinced you that you couldn't.

They feel stress and they handle it. They feel sadness and they process it. They celebrate and enjoy it. They don't need a chemical intermediary to experience their own lives. They're just present. Whole. Free.

You can have that again. Not by fighting. Not by resisting. Not by climbing some mountain of willpower. But by seeing clearly what's actually happening.

The substance doesn't work. It never did. It only created the illusion of working by first creating the problem. And once you see that, truly see it, the fear disappears. You're not giving anything up. You're putting down something that's been weighing you down.

Think about the last time you used. Did it actually make anything better? Did it solve a single real problem? Or did it just distract you for a moment, then add guilt, shame, and consequences to whatever you were already dealing with?

That's not help. That's not relief. That's a trap disguised as a solution.

When you quit, you're not losing a coping mechanism. You're escaping the thing that made you think you needed one. You're not sacrificing comfort. You're ending the discomfort that the substance created and blamed on everything else.

The fear of quitting is just the addiction's last defense. It makes you believe that freedom is the problem and captivity is the solution. But once you see through that lie, everything shifts.

You don't have to be strong enough to resist it forever. You just have to be clear enough to see that there's nothing to resist. Nothing to miss. Nothing to give up.

Just a weight you've been carrying that you're finally allowed to put down.

Non-users aren't deprived. They're liberated. And that liberation is already yours. You just have to stop believing the lie that you're giving something up to claim it.

The only thing you're losing is the thing that's been taking everything from you. And that's not a loss. That's freedom.

If you find yourself missing the person who hurt you, pause before you believe that feeling. What you’re craving isn’t them it’s the comfort, the illusion of safety, the idea that things could have been different.

Remind yourself: people don’t change because you wish they would. They change because they choose to, and they didn’t.

You’re not losing love; you’re losing a story that was never going to end well. Let it end with grace. The peace you feel now is real. The version of them you’re missing never truly existed.

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

"Yesterday, I felt a wave of loneliness that would usually make me reach out to people who were never good for me. But this time, I just sat with it. I went for a walk, listened to some music, and reminded myself that being alone does not mean I am unloved. The feeling passed. I didn’t break my own peace to feel temporary comfort. That felt like real growth."

(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.

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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)