Sobriety Prepared Me for This Moment

October 8, 2025

The Waiting Season

I’m currently walking through one of the hardest waiting seasons of my life—waiting to find out if the lump in my breast is cancer. Those words still feel heavy every time I say them out loud.

Waiting has never been my strong suit. For most of my life, waiting meant worrying. I’d let my mind run to every worst-case scenario until I felt paralyzed by fear. But this time, something is different. I feel steady. There’s an unexplainable calm that doesn’t make sense by the world’s standards.

And I know exactly where it comes from.

Seven years of sobriety—and an even greater measure of God’s grace—have been preparing me for this moment.

Learning to Take Life on Life’s Terms

In the early days of recovery, the idea of living one day at a time sounded simple, yet it was one of the hardest lessons to learn. My mind was always racing toward tomorrow or replaying yesterday. Sobriety forced me to face the truth: I couldn’t control the past or predict the future. My only job was to show up for today—with honesty, humility, and willingness.

That mindset has become the backbone of my peace in this season of waiting. I can’t control what the doctors find. I can’t change what’s already done. But I can choose how I respond. I can choose peace when fear rises. I can choose faith when uncertainty knocks at the door.

Sobriety taught me to surrender—to release my white-knuckled grip on outcomes and to let God be God. That same surrender is carrying me now, through every sleepless night and every moment my mind starts to wander toward the “what ifs.”

Faith in the Middle of the Unknown

I’d be lying if I said I never have fearful thoughts. They come in waves, usually late at night when everything is quiet. My mind whispers, What if it’s bad news? What if this changes everything?

But then I take a deep breath and ground myself in truth:

We don’t know yet.

God’s got this.

You’re not alone.

Those simple truths have become my lifeline. They remind me that calm is possible even in chaos, and that acceptance doesn’t mean giving up—it means letting go of what was never mine to carry.

Sobriety didn’t just free me from alcohol; it freed me from the illusion of control. It taught me that peace isn’t found in having all the answers—it’s found in trusting the One who does.

God’s Preparation and Grace

When I look back, I see God’s hand preparing me long before I ever knew why I’d need this kind of strength. I remember the years before I got sober—how He kept nudging me, whispering to my heart that it was time to let go of the bottle and turn to Him. I resisted for two years before finally surrendering.

Now, I understand why. God was shaping me into the woman who could walk through storms with grace. He was building endurance, patience, and faith that could withstand even the hardest seasons.

I’ve never been more grateful for my sobriety than I am right now. The healing, discipline, and spiritual growth that recovery has brought into my life have become my anchor. What once felt like weakness now feels like strength—a strength not rooted in my own willpower but in the steady presence of God.

Sometimes, I even joke that sobriety feels like a superpower. Because it’s true—there’s something almost supernatural about facing fear without numbing it, feeling pain yet still finding peace. That’s the miracle of grace.

Choosing Faith Over Fear

As I wait for answers, I keep coming back to this: I can’t control what happens next, but I can control my response. I can meet fear with prayer, doubt with gratitude, and anxiety with worship.

I’ve found comfort in small, sacred rhythms—morning devotionals, walks outside, time with my kids, journaling prayers, and listening to worship music. These daily choices remind me that no matter what tomorrow brings, God will still be good.

Whether the outcome is what I hope for or not, I trust that He’ll use it for His glory and my growth.

Whatever happens next, I know this: God is already there.

Scripture Reflection

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
— Matthew 6:34 (NIV)

A Word to Those Who Are Waiting

If you’re in a waiting season—whether you’re waiting on test results, a diagnosis, a breakthrough, or a prayer to be answered—I want you to know this: waiting doesn’t mean God is silent. Sometimes, it’s the space where He does His deepest work.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to be strong every moment. Just keep showing up—one day, one prayer, one breath at a time.

He’s with you in the waiting, too.

Disclaimer: This reflection is a personal story of faith and recovery. It is not intended as counseling advice or a substitute for professional mental health support. If you are walking through a similar season, I encourage you to seek the support of a counselor, sponsor, pastor, or trusted community.

If you’re in crisis or struggling with your mental health, please reach out for help. In the U.S., you can dial 988 to connect with the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. You are not alone—help is available, and there is always hope.

With grace and light,

Jess