A Beginning and an Apology
I want to begin by offering a sincere apology to anyone I may have harmed in my life. I am truly sorry for my mistakes.
This work is also a tribute to anyone seeking peace—those who are actively working to heal and live more consciously. Whether we recognize it or not, we are all deeply connected through a collective consciousness. Every family that has ever existed has influenced the generations that followed, unless someone along the way broke the chain. That break often comes in the form of awakening—when someone gains enough awareness to stop passing down suffering.
That is the journey every human, and perhaps every living creature, must take: to reach the other side of this life with peace, freedom, and no attachments.
Understanding the Addicted Mind
Every addict has a story of early suffering, followed by adaptive behaviors that were designed to protect—but eventually harmed. Addicts often carry more anxiety than the average person, more internal noise, more moments of psychological instability.
“Normal” people—if they exist—developed with thousands of moments of calm and safety in their early lives. Their self-esteem doesn’t crash from moment to moment. Their bodies aren’t constantly releasing stress hormones. They don’t live tethered to the past or gripped by fear of the future. Their ego isn’t the center of their universe—it’s integrated. These people aren’t reactive; they’re rooted.
Where do we find them? We become them.
You won’t recognize peaceful people if you’re living in a chaotic mental state. But as you shift, your awareness sharpens, and you’ll start to feel and recognize those who live from a place of balance. They are low-key, humble, generous, grounded in nature, and emotionally regulated.
I Didn't Always Believe This
In my early recovery, I would have scoffed at the idea that enlightened people walk among us. But by my 40s, I began to believe that my mind could return to a baseline of peace—one I might have had if I hadn’t experienced certain traumas. My experiences were no more difficult than yours, just different, and uniquely formative.
This book is my attempt to show how critical it is to understand anxiety and to go back and examine childhood wounds. We must actively engage in emotional recovery. This includes physical movement, reconnecting with nature, doing service work, journaling, and observing our behavior patterns—especially how we respond when triggered.
The Subconscious: The Engine of Repetition
Addiction thrives in the subconscious. Most of what drives us is not in our awareness. You may know the room you’re in, the temperature, your hunger level—but do you know how your past emotions are shaping your breath, posture, or thought patterns?
Some of this might sound overly analytical, but it’s worth thinking about. If your body were a car, and something was broken, you’d have to take it apart and understand each component. That’s what emotional recovery is: identifying and understanding what’s not working.
What is the source of your anxiety? For me, it was a combination of early emotional discomforts and traumas—some severe, others mild but repetitive.
Addiction, Ego, and the Higher Self
I used to think recovery was about staying sober. Later, I thought it was about learning to feel again. Then it became about healing the inner child. All of that is part of it—but now, I believe recovery is about learning to regulate emotions and reconnect with your higher self.
Your higher self is the version of you that exists when your nervous system is calm, your breath is steady, and your rational mind—what neuroscience might call the prefrontal cortex—is online. It’s your wise mind, your connected self.
When we’re triggered, our breath changes, our body tightens, and we shift into survival mode. Understanding this biological shift is powerful. Some of us grew up flipping between anxious and relaxed states without staying relaxed for long. Over time, this conditioning led to behaviors that look brave—like thrill-seeking or risk-taking—but were rooted in fear.
Emotional Discomfort in Childhood
Children don’t understand emotional discomfort the way adults do. When a child’s self-esteem is repeatedly hurt, or when they feel abandoned, they can’t rationalize it—they just feel pain. That pain becomes encoded in their body and behavior.
Later in life, adult triggers—like financial loss, rejection, or failure—can echo those early abandonment wounds. That’s why we must work backward to understand what shaped us.
Just as we can trace the roots of our suffering, we can also trace the origins of our strengths. If you’re a generous person or highly punctual, there’s a reason for that. Some traits are hardwired, others are shaped through early life.
The Illusion of Imperfection
For most of my youth, I disliked the way I looked. Today, when I look at old photos, I see someone extraordinary. And so are you.
In a relaxed state, we don’t fixate on our blemishes. We don’t obsess over our perceived flaws. In the present moment, there’s only gratitude. It sounds simple, but it’s profound—and increasingly difficult to access in the chaotic world of 2025.
A Shift in Consciousness Is Possible
Despite all the global suffering, I believe humanity is making progress. There are setbacks, but there are also more conscious people today than ever before. If compassion is planted, it grows. Compassion spreads like light. And each day, we change—slowly, subtly, moment by moment.
In 30 days, your life can look different. Start with one small positive habit. Drop one negative behavior. Build from there.
Keep reading. Keep learning. There’s a world of wisdom available now—through books, podcasts, lectures, and even YouTube. Tomorrow’s technology may make this even more accessible.
What Recovery Isn’t—and What It Is
Recovery doesn’t require a PhD. You don’t need divine visions or to open your third eye in a cave. If you wait for enlightenment to strike like lightning, you may be waiting forever—by the time it arrives, you might be 97 and missing your teeth. (And teeth are fun. Don’t wait.)
Recovery is not about becoming someone else—it’s about returning to who you were before the fear took hold.
It starts with one breath. One step. One moment of awareness.