Rehabitus: Personal Growth in Life After Addiction.
I came across a powerful question that made me pause:
“What would you write in a letter to your younger self?”
I thought this prompt might make a powerful journal entry or a compelling article. So I sat down with my new fountain pen, imagined my alternative timelines, and began writing a heartfelt letter to my younger self. It became a page of dos and don’ts, warnings, and lessons. To be honest, my twenty-something self wouldn’t have asked for this advice, and he certainly wouldn’t have listened. Still, it was worth exploring.
At first, it felt cathartic. But the more I wrote, the more a peculiar sensation grew in my mind: “If I could have prevented my addiction and erased all that hell, would I still be who I am today?”
No, I wouldn’t. And strangely enough, I feel I’m in a better place because of that past. As ruthless as this may sound, I’m grateful for everything I went through.
Without the chaos, the mistakes, the recovery, and the long, slow process of rebuilding, I wouldn’t have the awareness and wisdom I’ve earned. I wouldn’t have proof that I could survive what once felt unsurvivable. I wouldn’t have broken the chains of generational trauma that almost defined my life—and could have been passed on.
So I changed course. Instead of writing to my past, I’m writing to my present self.
Dear Present Me,
I began by warning our younger self about the path he was going down. I wanted to shake him awake, to spare him from his downfall, and give him the foresight he didn’t yet have. I wanted to tell him to put down the bottle, to seek meaningful pursuits, and to get help before trauma had the chance to bleed into everything. I’d have thrown in some winning lottery numbers to make his life even cushier. Most of all, I wanted to tell him to love himself—because he didn’t even know that was possible.
But now, I realise something worth more than rescuing him from his ways. If I changed our history, I’d be gambling with the present we’ve built. Every “should have” only anchors us into regret, and I’m done with those chains. I choose this freedom built in the now over whatever might have been.
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and it’s because of those very mistakes. They were the chisels that carved out who I am. They taught me to make sure I meet my needs and appreciate the joy in everyday experiences.
What if every hardship was a necessary step? What if those trials weren’t the obstacles, but the bricks that lay the road? What if changing the past would erase this future that’s unfolding now? What if everything turns out better than anyone imagined?
We can’t rewrite history by wishing it were different. We can only shape our story by what we do in the present.
Perfection is an illusion you’ve finally let go of. The grass always seems greener on the other side. Maybe changing the past would have given us that greener grass, but maybe not. The grass is greener where you water it. And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.
Some people never come out the other side of addiction. You did. You have survived. And every wrong turn has brought you to this moment of hard-won clarity.
You’re living a life you couldn't have dreamed of back then, filled with the things that truly matter. You have true love. You know peace. Sure, you’re still figuring some things out, but that’s never been a big deal. You’ve always thrived in the unknown, so don’t let uncertainty trouble you now.
You’re meeting your needs, and living well. You’re no longer patching over voids with distractions. These lessons came at a high price, but you’ve paid in full, and they are worth every penny if only to never make those mistakes again. You’ve earned this the hard way, and it’s yours for good.
And those battle scars aren’t marks of failure—they are the trophies of someone who has walked through hell and come out the other side.
Wear them with pride. Your scars are your strength. They’re what make you, you.
Thank You.
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I don't recall the exact quote but Richard Bach in "Illusions" had the Handbook for Reluctant Messiahs say that you can change the past.
Adam, I think you are a living example of that. We can't alter the physical events but we can revisit the emotions we attached to every event, especially the most harmful ones. Without taking away the anger and frustration those situations caused you, you've discovered some redeeming consolation that those events pushed you closer to who you have become now. You understand the compounding that was necessary that led you out of the world that had consumed you.
I admire you. I struggled to quit smoking cigarettes after 20 years. I can't fathom the energy and determination to do all you had done.
Love this! Brilliant take on things 😊