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bugmomwrites · 4 years

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Bloody Knuckles (Satori Tendou x GN!Reader)

A/N: My first time writing for Tendou! He was definitely one of the more multi faceted characters I’ve seen thus far, and I wanted to portray him in a way that wasn’t just an unhinged crackhead and it turns out I’m soft for The Weird Ones With A Heart Of Gold so...yay?

Give this song a listen while you read!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8GwUos_Mtw&list=LLMufVjq3gMI8bOOKLeFGq4g&index=257

If this takes off and enough people ask/comment/reblog I may write part 2 but no promises

TW: You break someone’s nose so a little blood? You can throw a mean punch in this one. Do with that what you will.

“Hey, I’m sorry for worrying you. Semi kind of exaggerated over the phone but I swear I’m fine.”

Silence.

You gulp. Tendou has already thanked the nurse for cleaning your cuts, and offers to wrap the last couple bandages. Sensing you two needed to be alone, she gives him the roll and quietly tends to the others. The several wrappings on his own hands must have been enough of an indication to them, seeming to say I know what I’m doing! I’ve done this before!, and it wasn’t like it was anything major. If it was something more graphic, say, a gun wound, they might have done it themselves. But here he was, wrapping you up with a level of care and intimacy reserved only for you.

How on earth did he let this happen again? You had been on your way to the gym around the same time he usually finished practice so the two of you could walk home together and hang out after school. Nothing out of the ordinary. You even had his varsity jacket on to block out the chilly autumn breeze, grateful that the sleeves were long enough to go well past your hands. His number 5 stitched onto the back was just the icing on the cake, and you wore it with pride.

Except today had been a little different.

As his s/o, you were very well aware of his past experiences with bullying, how he was labeled a “monster” by his peers; excluded from activities and singled out- sometimes even by the teachers. And while he had initially grown from the experience, feeling much more confident not just with age but with you becoming a vital part of his life as well, that didn’t mean he’d completely forgotten it either. Even though it was much less common in high school, there would still be the rare few that had something nasty say about him, but you didn’t think you’d ever witness it first hand in your third and final year.

As luck would have it, your “good behavior” streak came to a screeching halt when you heard snickers coming a little ways behind you. Frowning, you turned your head just in time to see a cluster of what looked like a few college kids from the team Shiratorizawa practiced against. You wondered briefly what was so amusing to them, when the shortest of the three beckoned you over. Hesitantly, you followed to where they were, just a couple yards away from the gym entrance.

“Can I help you?”, you asked curiously. One of them nodded, leaning down a bit and spoke.

“Yeah, we couldn’t help but wonder- are you dating the infamous Guess Monster of Shiratorizawa? The number on your back looked familiar.”

“Oh you mean Tendou! Yeah, he’s the greatest. Have you guys met him?”, at this they all exchanged incredulous looks before bursting into laughter. You faltered, half expecting that these guys were maybe friends of his, or at least on good terms. Anytime someone would ask you about your boyfriend, you were used to gushing about him to anyone who would listen, so this mockery was unprecedented.

“Looks like even the Yokai scored a s/o before you did after all, Katsu. Pay up.” The one named Katsu groaned, but reached into his wallet nonetheless and handed over a few paper bills. At this, you frowned. Who the hell did they think they were, speaking so poorly about the man you loved with your whole heart?!

Indignantly, you huffed are them, demanding to know what kind of beef they had with Tendou. They glared down at you, retaliating with some judgmental comments. You couldn’t even remember how it escalated; whether it was a gradual build up or one sole thing that sent you from 0 to 100, but before you knew it hands were being thrown, and the little voice in the back of your mind warning you about utterly stupid you were acting was ultimately silenced.

Being outnumbered, and not to mention much smaller it wasn’t hard for them to land a couple hits on you. Unbeknownst to you Semi passed by the commotion just in time to see two of the guys comforting their friend, who was now holding a bloody nose.

This would have been the perfect time to make your getaway, but after you heard the words “psycho bitch” there was nothing in your veins but pure unadulterated rage, and any momentary relief Semi may have felt at the prospect of the scrap winding down, was shot down almost instantly.

He wasn’t too sure who he should be more worried for, but getting in the middle of it wouldn’t end well for anybody. The sight of maroon blotches on the concrete and smearing over all four of you sent him into a mild panic, as he turned the corner and dialed 911.

“Yeah, Shiratorizawa Academy. Just outside the gym. Thank you. Please hurry.”

He still had one more call to make, although he wasn’t sure if he could do it. Steeling his nerves and swallowing any anxiety that got caught in his throat he tapped the green call button. The dial tone sounded for fifteen long seconds before a cheerful voice finally greeted him on the other line.

“Semi-Semi? I’m right inside. Did you forget something after practice?”

“Tendou! It’s Semi. Hurry outside, it’s urgent.”

“I think the last time I decked somebody on your behalf was before we got to Shiratorizawa. Middle schoolers are ruthless”, you chuckled nervously, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him. When he still didn’t respond, you cleared your throat.

“Tendou?”, you speak again, but this time your voice is much softer. Much more uncertain. As if you’re afraid to raise your voice out of fear of one or both of you breaking. With a shaky sigh, you reach a newly wrapped hand under his chin.

“Satori.”

This time, his face lifts into your view, and you don’t miss the way his brows furrow with worry, or the way his lips tremble as glossy eyes avert your own. A heavy hand is placed over yours, thumb rubbing gentle circles over the back of your palm.

People had always told you that one of these days that temper of yours would get you into trouble. That was one other difference you had with Tendou- your boyfriend was nicknamed the “Guess Monster” on and off the court, the title coming from his hyper observant nature and uncanny ability to easily read the people around him at a moments notice. Tendou was strategic, often analyzing even the most mundane from seemingly every angle, running the possibilities through his brain before executing a final decision.

You on the other hand? You were impulsive, brash, the patron saint of “act first think later”. You were prone to getting caught up in the moment, and being much more volatile than your romantic counterpart. That mentality, coupled with your loyalty and strong sense of justice was the perfect storm for leading you into scenarios much like this one.

Sure, you had scared off bullies for Tendou before, and every time he would hug you tight and tell you to “be more careful next time”, and just like clockwork you’d be on your best behavior for all of a week or so before inevitably relapsing back to instinctive rage. The cycle would continue, and for a while spats like these became less frequent, much to Tendou’s joy.

This was not “just another spat”.

Instead of relieved affection and that familiar grin you knew and loved, the back of the ambulance was deadly quiet, save for the EMTs bustling around outside.

His name still hung in the air, and before you could say anything else you felt warm droplets rolling onto your newly wrapped hands. One by one teardrops soaked through the fabric in the form of little dots, and your heart dropped as the harsh reality set in.

Tendou Satori was crying. Your lovably goofy, sweet boyfriend, who you swore to protect from all the vile comments. From all the evil in the world. From any and all things that would make him cry.

But this time, it was because of you.

In your crusade of being his metaphorical umbrella in the harshest storms raining from above, you had neglected to notice the muddy puddles below, leading him right into them while he faithfully believed in you.

Those kids might have been calling Tendou a monster, but now? The title seemed to be more fitting for you. You had to fix this. You had to bring that smile back. You were the only one who could bring back the sun from the dreary raincloud that hung over the both of you.

“Tori, baby... look at me.”

After what seemed like eons, teary brown eyes met (e/c) ones. You wondered how it was possible for them to look so shiny, and yet so subdued at the same time. There were originally so many apologies and words running through your head that you had planned, each one thought out carefully enough to make Tendou proud. You wanted to tell him all of it, while putting some sense of comfort in knowing that you were trying to express your feelings with words (and not impulsive actions) that you pondered. That you came up with. That you considered before speaking, for once in your life.

But as soon as you made eye contact, they disappeared into thin air. Every mentally rehearsed statement, gone. So you rested your forehead against his in a silent apology. Words would fail you, and as much as you wanted to be just as eloquent as Tendou, the small gesture seemed to do more than a million I’m sorry’s ever could.

So the pair of you sat on the stretcher in a silence that seemed much less suffocating now, forehead to forehead, and kissing away tears.

After several minutes had passed, Tendou leaned into your hand some more, and turned to lay a kiss into your palm.

Now it was your turn to tear up a little. After seeing firsthand the kind of harassment your boyfriend went through on a daily basis, you knew you had to be strong for his sake. The reasonable part of you told you to not pick a fight with certain people, no matter what. That there was no shame in taking the high road. But then you’d remember all the times he’d come home dejected and hurt, and the indignation that came with people so casually dragging his name through the mud, having no idea just how much words hurt.

Being “his protector” was taxing, and you realized that, while you’d do everything in your power to keep that smile on his face, sometimes you needed to let him be there for you too. As equals.

The tears were now dried up, no words needed as the walls of the tiny ambulance began to feel less restricting. Much like a sun shower, it wasn’t completely better yet, but it was obvious things were on the mend, at the very least. There was always a short window of time during a rainstorm where the sun would peek out, despite the last few drops of rain not disappearing completely. Moments like these- where the sadness was still lingering, but took a backseat to make room for relief, bittersweetness, and love- were where a rainbow would shine through. This purgatory was beautiful, yet ephemeral, and if you didn’t embrace it quickly enough it would fade away.

And with that, Tendou took a page out of your book and kissed you sweetly. It took you by surprise at first, but before too long you were melting into it. Vulnerable, but filled with a new kind of strength.

Pulling away as you remembered the ambulance doors were still half open, you attempted to reach to pull them shut. Alas, Tendou was a master at reading people, but most especially you, and you two were closed off from the rest of the world with a satisfying click.

Using this window of opportunity where his guard was down, you pulled him back down to your level for a longer, steamier kiss as you card your hand through his hair. You could almost feel him smirking against you, and in that moment you knew your sunshine was here to stay. After a few moments of shared breaths, mingling tongues and wandering hands, you finally separated and took in his dishelved appearance. Although, you were certain you didn’t look much better.

“I know I’m not as good with words as you are, but I’d love to apologize properly...maybe with actions?”

His eyes softened, lifting both of your bandaged hands in his to his lips as he tenderly kissed your bruised knuckles.

“I’d like that.”

TAGLIST: @narutos-fat-meat @introloves @kzumesknma @lotsofangst @xsweetbutsaltyx

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#bug mom writes #tendou satori #tendou x reader #gn reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #anime #fluff

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saltandsilverstories · 4 years

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Gargoyle

A blob of hand cream, pale pink and scented more like FreBreeze than the cherry blossoms on its packaging, rolls onto my palm. I cap the tube with my teeth, rubbing the cream into my skin. February’s chill had seeped through my gloves, drying out my hands. The cream seemed to coat my fingers more than repair the damage the cold had done.

My legs vibrate against the seat, the keychains on my purse jingling just louder than the rumbling of the subway car.

Most people were sitting, while one or two people stood up, swaying in place as the subway turned down a tunnel. Someone’s music was turned up too loud, the faint screeching of electropop prominent over the shuffling of shoes and crinkling of jackets. Someone down the car coughs, the sound overlapping the voice of the PA system.

“Arriving at: Museum. Museum station is this stop. Doors will open on the left.”

I drop the hand cream back into my purse, swapping it for my phone. The train jolts as it stops, the doors chiming as they slide open. Bodies change places beyond the threshold of the doors, a biting breeze slipping in between them.

My phone lays in my hand, face down. I flip it over, my finger tapping the screen twice. We flood its blackness. 10:24 in bright white rests on our heads. Me and you, the “One Year Sober” chip between your teeth, the stick of a lollipop between mine. Your hair’s parted in the middle, mine a bit to the right. Our outlines are fuzzy, blurring us into blobs of grey sweatshirt and blue jeans.

---

You had a few of the same sweatshirt, keeping them on-site for convenience, you said. You wore one at the graduation party, its sleeves and chest all dotted with stickers of stars and moons.

They didn’t have a lot of food at the clinic, so I left ten minutes after I got there to pick up a cake from Fortino’s. They were still setting up decorations -- sad, droopy things -- when I got back. Staff placed the cake between the cups and plates, the bubblegum pink and canary yellow of the streamers making the room look a little more like it was meant to house a celebration.

“Jackie!” You held a celery stick in your fingers like a cigarette, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Your hair smelled like dad’s shampoo when we hugged. “Hey.”

With how often I visited, you didn’t bother with a tour, but instead brought me to your dorm.

“No cards today.” You were rooting around in a drawer where the deck usually was.

“Why not?” I shifted where I sat, trying to see over your shoulder. “Hey, wait.”

“What?” A pair of socks landed on the tiles.

“You’re making a mess.” My arm reached for the socks.

“Stop it,” you swatted me away, “It’s fine.”

“Okay, okay.�� My legs crossed themselves.

“Here. Look.” You held a package, wrapped in napkins from the cafeteria, held together with tape and elastic bands.

In my palms it seemed so tiny. “What is this?” My voice was tinier still.

“A lil’ something.” You hooked some of your hair behind your ear. “A thank-you.”

The elastics came off easy, and the tape didn’t resist my tugging at all. The bare box seemed like it used to house earrings, or maybe it still did. I popped off the lid.

An envelope lay inside, folded, bent in place with two bobby pins. They clattered inside the empty box as I fished open the envelope.

“Dear Miss Evelyn Santos, we are pleased to inform you…” My voice tapered off so my brain could process the meaning of each word. “Do mom and dad know?”

You nodded, your smile warping your tone. “Called them when it came in the mail. I wanted to tell you in person, though.”

“Evelyn, holy shit.”

“I’m back in action, baby!” Your arms went up in a cheer.

A giggle, mine. The first of the day. It built beneath my tongue until laughter broke free. I embraced you, tighter this time.

“U of T, huh? You’re really cleaning up.” You let go of me. I hoped you could hear how proud I was.

Your left cheek dimple peeked out as your smile deepened. “Wouldn’t have tried if not for you, so thank you.”

“You know I’ll always look out for you.” I handed you back the envelope. The letter had details you needed for registration, or I would’ve kept it in a frame.

“I know, and I hope this, uh, shows you that I’ll be okay. You’ve done a lot for me, and I’m gonna be fine now. It’s time you get back to focusing on you, Jackie.” You placed your hand over mine.

In the main room an hour later, you stood on a fake stage, behind a podium, and a mic on a crooked stand. Your sponsor was right beside you, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

You tapped the mic. “I just wanna say something real quick, if that’s okay?” There was four of your voice, all in different pitches, all muddled by the prehistoric speakers they’d dug up.

Your sponsor nodded.

“Uh, so, heh. I guess, one year ago, this isn’t where I thought I’d be. I was supposed to have graduated by now. From school, not here. There was a point where I, like, wasn’t really myself at all, not even just because of the morphine. It came after, and I don’t remember a lot of it, but I do remember my sister, who’s here with me today--” You pointed me out like I was the one graduating. The warmth that blossomed somewhere under my ribs… If I could’ve bottled it I would have. “--just about dragged me out of our house and got me here. I’m on this stage because of her, and I promise you, Tony and Jackie, and everyone else I’ve come to support here, that once I leave here tonight, I’m never gonna be back.”

Someone else beat me to starting the standing ovation. It died down too quick, just as your sponsor handed you your chip.

You brought an extra lollipop with you when you came back to your seat. Yours was gone by the time the last of the graduates had finished up on stage. I saved mine for after, when you hooked your arm through mine and pulled me over to the windows. The sun wasn’t out anymore, but the streetlamps were, dropping spotlights every few feet along the sidewalk.

“Here,” I handed her my phone, putting the lollipop in my mouth. Rainbow didn’t really have a flavour more complex than just ‘sugar.’ “Take a photo of us.”

Your eyes got really wide as you took the phone, holding it out in front of us. You held the chip between your teeth, maybe trying to match me and my lollipop stick.

“Don’t do that.”

You turned your head before I could grab the chip. “Shh! Just smile.”

We did smile, yours wrinkling by your eyes. You tapped a few things when you were done, holding up the screen for me to see after.

“It’s your lockscreen now.” The chip was in your pocket.

“It’s perfect.”

---

Our selfie vanishes, the screen tired of waiting for my input. My reflection blinks up at me from within the confines of my phone screen. I tap the screen again, opening up WhatsApp. Nothing new greets me in our chat. There’s no service anyway.

“im out w friends”

“Do they use?”

“it doesn’t matter m’m not like that anymore”

“Yeah, but what if you get hurt? You’re

almost done your master’s.

Don’t let all our hard work slip away.”

“relax if i was gonna relapse i woudlve already”

“I just want you to be safe.”

“i am safe i am more than safe u gotta let me live a little”

“Now arriving at: St. Patrick. St. Patrick Station is this stop. Doors will open on the left.”

I blink, glancing at the blinking lights of the line map. Just two more until Union. I lock the phone, shoving into my coat pocket.

Laughter trickles down the car until it’s beside me. I follow it to its source: two girls, one in pink earmuffs, the other in a black toque, hunched over a phone in earmuff’s hands.

My gut folds itself in half, sharp edges digging into the inside of my abdomen.

---

I was in the bathroom. Listerine sloshed around inside my mouth, my study sheet taped up on the mirror. Still had to get to my skincare, and floss before going back to review the rest of the review notes I’d left lying in my room.

The exhaust fan was on, and it clunked every few seconds. The squeak of the knob on my bedroom door was only just louder than the fan.

I spat the mouthwash out, wiping my mouth with one hand, the other unlocking the bathroom door.

The light was on in my room. A shadow flitted around inside. Papers rasped, drawers groaned open and shut.

You were in jeans and a shirt I didn’t recognize. Your hair was up in a bun on top of your head, off-centre. You knelt by my bed, one of your arms lost beneath the space between it and the floor.

My lips pressed together, leaning against the doorframe. I faced the hallway.

The box scraped along the hardwood as you unearthed it.

Maybe you’d leave the change in there. Maybe you’d only take the change. Maybe you’d only take what you needed. Maybe you were adding to my savings. Maybe you’d pulled out a normal shoebox instead.

Coins jingled, and any other maybes dissipated.

The photo of us, of me, you, mom, and dad, hanging by the stairs was obscured. The glass caught the light leaking from my room, blotting out the four of us.

The box replaced itself, your footsteps dampened by your socks.

The light switch clicked. The door shut.

Your eyes were on me, and mine were searching for you in a photograph.

---

“Now arriving at: Union. Union Station is this stop. Doors will open on the left.”

My legs wobble as I cross the car, the motion of the train working against my heels.

The walk to the Tim’s is short, or maybe it’s long and I’m fast-forwarding the in-between. My phone buzzes in my coat pocket. Once, twice, again.

I forget to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hey. You close?” The inside of the store spills out with your voice.

“Yeah, I’m coming in now,” I huff, my breath blooming in front of my face. I pass through the cloud, pulling open the door.

“Jackie!”

I turn towards the call and see you in a booth for two, one arm waving me over, the other placing your phone into the pocket of your scrub shirt.

I drape my coat over the back of my seat. A French Vanilla sits on my side of the table, mirroring yours.

“Cold out there, huh?” You start, pulling your drink towards you.

I nod, taking my seat.

Your scrubs are clean and without wrinkles. You iron them. Your hair is smooth and curled at the ends. You style your hair. Your eyes are lined with thin wings, your skin airbrushed. You do your makeup now.

My jeans were bought two years ago. My hair is in a bun. I’m bareface and in a sweater I wore two times this week.

Chatter and a grainy remix of Bad Romance fills the space between our words.

“How’ve you been?” I ask right away. It’s all I really need to know.

You sip from your drink, nodding. “Good, good. Work’s good, I’m good.”

Are you using? “That’s good, yeah.”

“What about you? You guys working on anything new?” You sound curious. Genuine.

“Uh, not yet. We’re between projects right now.” I rotate my cup with my fingertips. “The last game didn’t do very well, so we’re just brainstorming.”

“Ah, okay. I’m sure you’ll figure out something.” A smile.

I return with my own smile. It ends at my cheeks.

We take a sip from our drinks.

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it before I can’t.” You exhale sharply.

“Say what?” I hear myself ask.

You look down at your drink, then at me. “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” I regret drinking anything at all.

You nip your lower lip, pushing some of your hair behind your ear. You match the tiny photo of yourself on the ID pinned to your shirt. “I can’t… If… I don’t want us to not talk, you know? And if you’re gonna freak out and try and micromanage me again…”

My head bobs. “I get it, Evelyn. I… I will always look out for you, but I get it, and I’m trying. I’m trying to give you what you want. Youve gotta know why I worry, though.”

You hold your drink with both of your hands. “I know, I know, but sis, it’s been like six years. I’m around the stuff every day and I don’t have urges. I don’t wanna be where I was before. I’m okay now, and I need you to know that, like, really know that if I’m gonna let you back in again.”

What if you get hurt? What if I could stop you but I don’t? A long exhale escapes through my nose. “Okay. Yeah, okay. I, uh. You’re right. I backed off for this long. I trusted you, I do trust you, and yeah. I get it. You’re okay now.”

You don’t need me anymore.

“Thank you.” You take my hand across the table, squeezing for a second before letting go. Your smile is large, pushing even your eyebrows up higher. Those used to be untrimmed, bushy things, but now they were slim, framing your eyes. You’re okay.

I smile back. It goes a little farther this time.

#from the same portfolio as memento mori #this one is called gargoyle bc #what do gargoyles do #they guard things #but this is guardianship to an extreme #it was a lot more surreal in its earliest drafts #mywriting

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bobbiejwray · 6 years

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The 3 Critical Milestones You Must Pass in Early Addiction Treatment

In order to get clean and sober you have to do certain things.

Sobriety does not just fall into your lap because you wish that your life was different. For any real addict or alcoholic, there is actual work involved wtih the process of transforming your life.

But that work cannot just be ordered from someone who is unwilling to comply. Instead, we all know today that any struggling addict or alcoholic has to actually want to change their life. They have to want it for themselves on a very deep level if they are going to overcome a real addiction.

That willingness has to come from surrender.

So the first milestone in a struggling addict’s journey to sobriety is the moment when they surrender to the fact that they are, in fact, a very real alcoholic or drug addict.

I can remember when I was much younger and less experienced in my own journey, and I can remember seeing others who were alcoholic, and I wondered to myself “Why don’t they just stop drinking?” I had not yet experimented with drugs and booze myself so I had no idea what an addiction was like. But back when I was still a “normie” I believed that any addict or alcoholic should, in theory, just be able to walk away from their substance of choice and get on with their life.

Little did I know….

Years later, I picked up my first drug (which was marijuana by the way) and I was instantly–and quite definitively–off to the races. I later picked up alcohol as well and that caught on for me too. Without even giving my own permission about the matter, I had suddenly become an addict and an alcoholic. It caught me completely off guard.

So for a while I was in outright denial of the fact that I might have a problem. I figured that I was smart enough to lock it down, to cut back if and when I really needed to do so. And that worked for a while. But eventually my disease spun me further and further out of control, and I started to have blackouts while drinking and going through all kinds of chaos.

At some point my family convinced me to attend rehab, which I did. Now here is the key point, though: I had only surrendered to the fact that I was a real alcoholic. I went to rehab and I said “yeah, I guess I am a real drunk with a real problem, I am addicted, I know that I have a serious problem with it. Yes, I admit that.”

However, I left rehab that time and I drank again and went back to drugs. What was going on? Had I not broken through my denial? Had I not admitted to my problem?

Yes, I had surrendered. Partially.

But in order to really turn your life around you must also pass this second, and perhaps more important milestone, which is to surrender to a new solution in your life.

In other words, it is not enough to simply admit–and even to accept fully–that you have alcoholism or drug addiction. That is not enough. You can accept that label all day long, you can go shout it from the hilltops that you are a real alcoholic, but so long as you are not yet accepting a solution into your life, you will remain stuck. You will keep spinning your wheels and dancing between addiction and “being half sober.”

The second milestone, therefore, is to surrender completely to a new solution. To say to the world “yes, I know that I need serious help, and I am ready to do whatever it takes in order to turn this around.”

This is quite different than a simple admission of your disease. I would say that I was admitting that I had a problem with alcoholism and drug addiction for years before I finally made that final leap past my denial and realized that I needed real help.

One of the problems with most addicts and alcoholics is that they are not, in general, stupid people. They are actually fairly intelligent, which works agaisnt their ability to surrender. In order to really succeed they have to essentially “give up” and ask someone else how to live their life. This is not something that comes easily to most people. Therefore we have to bang our heads into the wall for quite some time before we reach the point at which we become willing to humble ourselves to the point necessary.

What does this look like, when a struggling alcoholic has finally broken through their denial and they are accepting of a new solution?

It looks like the person asks for help, and they actually mean it.

Sometimes an alcoholic can ask for help and they are still trying to manipulate their situation so that they can continue to self medicate. This is not really asking for help–they are just trying to keep their addiction fueled. They want to stay on the hamster wheel that is their addiction, rather than find a real solution.

Asking for help from a place of genuine humility means that the person is going to do whatever they can in order to succeed in recovery. Being truly humble means that you are no longer trying to figure out sobriety on your own, but instead you are ready to listen to others tell you what to do.

Being in a state of true surrender means that you are willing to accept someone else’s solution as your own. It means being ready to learn and willing to listen.

And it means being not just willing to do these things, but to be downright desperate for change. To be willing to do anything, whatever it takes. That is the level of willingness that is required to succeed in recovery.

So the third milestone is the moment that you realize that you must go “all in” on recovery. The moment that you realize that you must follow through and do whatever is necessary.

I can remember when I had a few months of recovery in, and I had surrendered fully and I was working a real program. And I can remember being amazed that things really were getting better for me, and that I was starting to see improvements in both my life situation and in my own personal growth. I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, which really meant that I was realizing that I could actually be happy in sobriety. Somehow, this recovery thing was working for me, through none of my own talent or effort, but simply because I was following directions and doing what I was told.

And that was the secret, for me at least. I was doing the work. I was following directions. I was doing what I was told to do, and my life was getting better and better.

I wanted for this to continue, and so I can remember having this moment of insight in which I realized that I just had to maintain the course, to stay humble, to keep learning, and to keep following directions. The only way I could really mess it up was if I suddenly decided that I was a super genius who no longer needed the advice of others. That would be the only way I could somehow meet my downfall and relapse. But if I kept doing what was working for me, if I kept listening to my therapist, my sponsor, and my peers at AA meetings–then things would continue to get better and better.

I can remember having that revelation, and feeling grateful that I had finally found the path. It was strange that the path involved letting go, it involved surrender. But that was how I found success in my recovery journey.

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haileyjayden3 · 6 years

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The 3 Critical Milestones You Must Pass in Early Addiction Treatment

In order to get clean and sober you have to do certain things.

Sobriety does not just fall into your lap because you wish that your life was different. For any real addict or alcoholic, there is actual work involved wtih the process of transforming your life.

That willingness has to come from surrender.

So the first milestone in a struggling addict’s journey to sobriety is the moment when they surrender to the fact that they are, in fact, a very real alcoholic or drug addict.

Little did I know….

However, I left rehab that time and I drank again and went back to drugs. What was going on? Had I not broken through my denial? Had I not admitted to my problem?

Yes, I had surrendered. Partially.

But in order to really turn your life around you must also pass this second, and perhaps more important milestone, which is to surrender to a new solution in your life.

What does this look like, when a struggling alcoholic has finally broken through their denial and they are accepting of a new solution?

It looks like the person asks for help, and they actually mean it.

Being in a state of true surrender means that you are willing to accept someone else’s solution as your own. It means being ready to learn and willing to listen.

So the third milestone is the moment that you realize that you must go “all in” on recovery. The moment that you realize that you must follow through and do whatever is necessary.

And that was the secret, for me at least. I was doing the work. I was following directions. I was doing what I was told to do, and my life was getting better and better.

The post The 3 Critical Milestones You Must Pass in Early Addiction Treatment appeared first on Spiritual River Addiction Help.

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alyssamanson5 · 6 years