By Gary Bowers
Perseverance isn’t something I was born with. I didn’t come into this world with an innate ability to push through life’s darkest moments. No, I had to learn it, clawing my way out of addiction, setback after setback, to finally find the kind of strength that only comes from having fallen—hard—and deciding to get back up anyway.
I started using drugs and alcohol when I was twelve years old. At twelve, most kids are worried about school and friends, but from the moment of my first high, I thought only about using drugs, leading me down a path that shaped my entire life. In some ways, I was lucky; I was never arrested, I never lost a job due to drinking, and I never got a DUI. In many ways, my life was an ideal portrait of a young, successful person. I had a great job and a family, and my material needs were met. My addiction grew like a pervasive, slow-growing weed. It wasn’t some dramatic, rock-bottom moment that made me realize I needed to change—it was decades of self-destruction, of moments that should have been bottom but somehow weren’t. I finally got completely sober at 39. That’s 27 years of addiction, of trying and failing, of convincing myself I had it under control when I obviously didn’t.
When I first tried to get sober on my own, I thought it would be about willpower. Just say no, right? Wrong. What I learned after joining Alcoholics Anonymous and through therapy is that for alcoholics like me, willpower has nothing to do with it. If I could have just decided to stop, I would have done it a long time ago. Recovery is about learning to live inside your skin, sit with discomfort without numbing it, and rewrite everything you thought you knew about yourself and the world. Perseverance was essential to my recovery because it’s not about perfection, it’s about steady progress.
Fighting Back
One of the biggest challenges was temptation. Not just the big, dramatic temptations but also the sneaky ones. The rationalizations creep in: “I’ve been good for six months—maybe I can have one drink.” (I can’t.) “I was never that bad, was I?” (I was.) The moments when the craving is loud, screaming at you, and you have to find some way to whisper back, “Not today.” Getting through a craving without drinking is perseverance.
Then, there was the challenge of finding a support network. No word for loneliness adequately describes how addiction really feels. As I found myself in a new city without a network, I turned to a local AA meeting, and it changed my life. I had to learn how to reach out, trust, and let people in—things I’d avoided most of my life. Sobriety wasn’t just about not drinking; it was about forming real connections, about learning how to show up as my whole, flawed self. Fellow alcoholics helped me find myself and reconnect with the world around me.
And let’s talk about social events. At first, sporting events, games, concerts, and parties all felt like a minefield. It turns out you don’t realize just how much alcohol is woven into social life until you’re trying to avoid it. I had to figure out how to be present at these events without a drink in my hand and how to enjoy things without numbing myself in the process. The first few times were rough—I won’t lie. But then I started to actually feel things and experience moments fully, and I realized I hadn’t been truly present for years. That was worth it.
Looking Forward
Sobriety forced me to learn who I was all over again. For most of my life, I defined myself by my addiction, by my ability to party, by the chaos I carried with me everywhere I went. Without that, who was I? I had to rediscover what I liked, what I believed in, what made me laugh. It was like meeting myself for the first time, and I’ll be honest—there were parts of me I didn’t like. But sobriety isn’t about becoming perfect. It’s about becoming honest. And I’d rather be honest than perfect any day.
Here’s the thing, though—perseverance doesn’t stop being necessary once you hit a particular milestone. It’s not like you get your one-year chip, and suddenly, life is easy. Every day brings new challenges, new temptations, and new reasons to doubt yourself. But every day also offers new opportunities to push through and prove to yourself that you can keep going.
I used to think perseverance was about never falling. Now I know it’s about getting back up—over and over again. Sobriety isn’t a finish line; it’s a daily choice. Some days are harder than others, but every day that I choose it, I remind myself that I’m worth it. And that’s what keeps me going.
About the Author
Gary Bowers is the Director of Outreach for Live Another Day. As a person in recovery, Gary has made it his personal and professional mission to help others overcome the everyday tragedy of addiction. In addition to his involvement in the recovery community, Gary is an avid music nerd who writes, collects, and experiences music on a frequent basis.
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