My Sobriety Story with Jeremy

“I thought getting sober meant just not drinking. Boy, was I wrong.”

This series showcases personal stories of addiction recovery and sobriety. Today’s edition features

Author Jeremy Evans

, a chaplain, recovery counselor, and writer with 30 years of sobriety. He explores the intersections of faith, mental health, and neurodivergence in his newsletter,

BETWEEN WORLDS

. He lives in Minnesota with his beautiful new wife, Lori, two dogs, two cats, and more books than he’ll ever finish.

---

When and how did you get sober?

I got sober 30 years ago, back in 1995. No bright light. No dramatic crash. Just the long, slow weariness that builds up when the life you’re living is erasing who you are. I was tired. Tired of the lies. Tired of the mornings that started with regret and ended with shame. I didn’t know what I was stepping into when I walked into that 12-step meeting; I just knew I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing. I went. It helped. The rest is history.

More to the point, I didn’t get sober because I suddenly wanted to. I got sober because the pain of staying the same finally outweighed my grinding fear of change. I sat in the back of a meeting, arms crossed and very guarded. But I stayed. One day turned into a week, then a month. The program worked on me quietly, without asking for a full buy-in, just a willingness to keep coming back. And it worked.

---

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

There wasn’t a Hollywood-style bottom for me. No DUIs or glorious criminal drug-induced war stories to tell. Just a long series of quiet, private moments where I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror anymore. The biggest lie I believed was that I was still in control. I could quit anytime. What a joke.

But on the morning of May 26th, 1995, I woke up and realized I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. The things I was doing weren’t just hurting me; if left unchanged, they were going to kill me. The turning point wasn’t some explosion. It was a whisper coming from within my soul telling me: You don’t have to keep living like this.

I knew I wasn’t going to die that day. But I also knew I couldn’t live like that anymore.

---

What surprised you about getting sober?

I thought getting sober meant just not drinking. Boy, was I wrong.

Sobriety ripped the floorboards up and showed me all the things hiding underneath: trauma, shame, fear, unprocessed grief, and a deep longing for belonging and serenity. I was avoiding my feelings. It wasn’t just a detox of the body I needed; it was an unlearning of survival habits and beliefs that no longer served me.

I also discovered that sobriety wasn’t sterile or boring. It wasn’t the end of fun. It was the beginning of genuine clarity for me. My sense of humor came back. Creativity came back. I came back.

But most surprising? It’s how much of recovery is spiritual. Not in the churchy way. In the human way. In the “I get to feel like a whole person again” kind of way.

---

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your recovery journey?

Grief. When my wife passed away in 2021, it brought me to the edge of myself. It was sudden. Brutal. A drowning accident. One day, we were making plans. The next, I was planning a funeral.

And here’s what surprised me: I stayed sober.

I had every reason, every excuse, to numb out. But I didn’t. I stayed present, to the best of my ability. The trauma that arises from grief can feel like a throat punch, and I learned that pain doesn’t care about how long you’ve been sober. It doesn’t reward you for clean time. It just breaks you open, and what’s inside bleeds out.

But the program gave me something stronger than escape: it gave me tools to sit with the pain. To walk through it. To not self-destruct when the bottom of my life fell out.

---

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

Let me say this straight: sobriety gave me myself.

I’ve become a chaplain, a counselor, and a writer. I’ve worked in recovery spaces, prisons, hospitals, and treatment centers. I’ve sat with the dying. I’ve counseled the hurting. I’ve helped people walk out of the darkest nights of their lives.

But none of that compares to the simple truth that I can look in the mirror and not flinch. I got my self-respect back.

Sobriety gave me integrity. It gave me presence. It gave me a new relationship with God, not the vending machine God of my youth, but the still, quiet voice that speaks in moments of honesty.

It also gave me a new understanding of who I am.

After my wife died, I started EMDR therapy. That’s when I was diagnosed as neurodivergent. Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces of my life made sense: the sensory overload, the emotional intensity, the deep dives into obscure topics, the spirals, the shame, the constant sense that I was somehow different.

That diagnosis didn’t fix anything. But it named something. And that gave me peace. I didn’t need to change who I was. I just needed to stop apologizing for it.

---

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

First: I am not the expert on what's best for you. Plus, you don’t have to be perfect. Just be present.

Recovery is messy. Some days you’ll feel amazing. Other days, you’ll want to punch the wall. Both are part of the process.

You don’t need to perform for anyone. Just keep showing up. Let the program work on you in the background. Trust the process, even when you don’t feel it working.

And remember this: you’re not too broken. You’re not too weird. You’re not too late.

Also? People will let you down. Don’t put anyone on a pedestal. Not your sponsor. Not the old-timers. Not even yourself. This is a spiritual program, not a talent show.

Let grace be the thing that keeps you going.

And if you’re neurodivergent like me, know this: your brain isn’t a bug in the system, it’s a different operating system. Recovery might look different for you. That’s okay. Keep what works. Leave the rest. You belong here, too.

Final word? Much of what I know today didn’t come from books or classrooms. It came from showing up.

It came from 30 years of trial, error, therapy, prayer, and spiritual practice rooted in the world’s wisdom traditions. Christianity, Zen, 12-step spirituality, psychology, and philosophy, I drew from all of them. Still do.

Sobriety didn’t make me perfect. It made me real. And I guess I think that’s more than enough.

Want to share your sobriety story?

Thank you for sharing, Jeremy! We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines.