Chris

For all the people lingering in the shadows: Maybe you're out there thinking that you could never be truly sober. That staying sober is the one thing you could never do. Maybe a part of you thinks it's completely mad to even consider sobriety. Naked, without a life vest, without your old friend being there to hold you when you're anxious, to whisper words of embrace when the intrusive thoughts enter on lonely nights, to help you carry the weight of having to appear a functional human being. So much baggage. Where did it all come from? Who knows. But you know this: other people don't have to carry what you are carrying. How else are they gently existing without wanting to blow their brains out from the pressure of being conscious? Were they just born with quiet minds? That must be it. They must have been born with a blessed brain, or at the least, saved from the curse that life inflicted on you, and only you. Do they know why you drink? Could they even understand if they tried? It all just feels so alone. Why even consider sobriety? It's not possible. How would that be possible? If you tried and failed, would you sink even deeper? Another delusion drifting helplessly onto the pile of wreckage that is your life story? Perhaps what you fear isn't failure. Maybe the thing you fear the most is having hope. Because having hope before losing it is so, so painful, and you don't deal with pain very well. Normal people fall and get up again. Not you. The pain floors you for months, taking all hope of change with it. Better to avoid the pain than to be crushed completely. Pain is the catastrophe, the armageddon, and only a madman would willingly enter the end of the world. You want to avoid the pain, but it never goes away. You just manage to hide it, to push it away before it comes back. You know it, but what's the alternative? You've tried fighting and you've tried avoidance. Both lead back to the same thing. Both are extremes that fuel the stream of addiction. What if you did something you've never tried before? For 10 seconds, a minute, what if you could hold the line and withstand the tidal wave of emotions when you stand still? What if you stand in the middle of the storm and just keep standing there? Like a simpleton who doesn't know anything about anything. Not reacting. Observing. Sometimes feeling. But mostly observing. Right in the boring middle. Where you never wanted to be. 'This is so stupid' the brain keeps repeating. You don't react, because you have just become Forrest Gump, standing there like an idiot. You tell the brain that 'stupid is as stupid does,' because for a smart person you have done some stupid things. Time to stop being smart. Time to try something else. So you go into dumb perseverance. Not pushed to any one side. Not running away. Not fighting. But standing. Observing. Sober. For an hour, maybe even one whole day. Maybe for that one day being sober doesn't seem that impossible anymore. Maybe you could even do it the next day too. And 1 more. And 1 more... Maybe one day you look out over the horizon, and you suddenly realize there used to be a storm where now there is nothing but clear waters.

@SeamusMcTier Yeah I know. I was one of those people who was barely open enough to get sober. Still barely open enough to look for answers and change.

@AddictedChris Thank you 🙏. Hate was maybe "Too strong" might be the wrong term. 😂 I meant it'll make you think 💭, and like me, many dislike reflecting on areas we're needing improvement. 🤔

I wrote a book I kind of hope you hate. Not because it’s bad. But because if it’s working — really working — it’ll piss you off. That’s what happens when you drag your enemy into the light. It squirms. It whispers. It tells you, you don’t need this. You’re fine. You’re better than him. I believed that for years. I thought the problem was the booze. Or the weed. Or the rage. Or the shame. Or the lust. Or the shopping cart. Or the silence. But the real problem was the thing behind all of those things: My mind was not my friend. I thought I was in charge. I thought I was “working a program.” But really, I was just negotiating terms with the same enemy that had been running the show all along. This book isn’t about how I got sober. It’s about how I woke up. And if it makes you want to throw it across the room? Good. That means you’re not all the way gone yet. My Mind Was Not My Friend: Why My Brain Kept Trying to Kill Me (And Other Inconvenient Truths About Spiritual Warfare) a.co/d/0gS3oAt

@SeamusMcTier Sounds really good.

The voice in your head isn't always your friend. After two decades of sobriety, I thought I had recovery figured out. I was wrong. My Mind Was Not My Friend is the story of what happens when sobriety isn't enough—when the obsessive thoughts that once drove you to drink don't vanish… they just find new costumes: performance, shame, control, compulsive "productivity," or that low-grade self-hate that blends in with the background hum of a Tuesday. This isn't another recovery memoir with a tidy redemption arc. And it's definitely not a self-help guide. It's field notes from the second war—the one that starts after you put the bottle down. The one most people don't talk about because it sounds crazy: What do you do when your own thoughts start quietly tearing you apart? Written by someone who's been sober since 1988 (37 years and counting), this book maps the battlefield between your ears. It's about what happens when you don't relapse technically, but you realize you've just traded addictions—booze for busyness, chaos for control, rage for self-loathing. You're "sober"… but your soul's still bleeding out. This book is for people with time in the program who secretly wonder why they still feel restless, irritable, and spiritually dry. It's for those who've stayed clean but feel like their minds are still working against them. It's for anyone caught in a cycle—food, porn, pills, perfectionism—and tired of pretending they've got it all figured out. What you'll find here: Raw testimony from someone who's been in the trenches Why that restless feeling in long-term sobriety isn't failure—it's your soul trying to wake up The difference between thinking about God and encountering Him How ancient practices became lifelines when modern solutions failed Why silence isn't always peace, and why not drinking isn't the same as being free This isn't a roadmap—it's a war journal. Written with the honesty of someone who's been there and survived to tell about it. If you've ever felt like you're going crazy in sobriety... If your mind has become your worst neighborhood... If you've "paused when agitated" a thousand times and still ended up in the same dark corner... You're not alone. And maybe that's enough to start with. Sometimes the old ways are the only ways that work. Want a signed author's copy? I'm Ordering paperbacks soon. Hit me up if you want one before the masses get their grubby hands on it. And by masses I mean me and my dog... Fair warning: I might scribble something illegible in the margin. My penmanship peaked in 3rd grade. But it'll be from the guy who actually bled on the pages, so there's that. Content Warning: Contains frank discussions of addiction, mental health, and spiritual warfare. This is testimony, not therapy. Ideal for readers seeking authentic recovery stories, men's recovery, Catholic spirituality, or spiritual warfare guidance.

@ThisIsAlmu Well... Allright

@AddictedChris 😂 come with me!

Read the Trump news this morning and started googling “hippy communes by the beach”

@ThisIsAlmu ahhh

@AddictedChris That’s where I am when we talk

…

@ThisIsAlmu Wow! The water is so blue.

Lately I’ve been obsessing about many things, one of them saving money for an apocalypse that may not come. And if it does, I probably won’t need any money while dead so instead I booked an appartment in a small village I never heard of, in front of the sea. This is the plan:

@ThisIsAlmu Good.

@ThisIsAlmu You're welcome

@AddictedChris Yeah, another thing to obsess with now 😅

@ThisIsAlmu Wow

@AddictedChris I also found it hard to focus on so many questions, made me anxious

@charlieP_123 Im skating, climbing and lifting. I volunteer in a kitchen but life direction wise i hit a dead end. Been praying for answers. 3,5 year sober but it means very little. Been wanting to write but not sure of the point. Nobody can make sense for me but me.

@AddictedChris I look forward to hearing how it all pans out now. Are you running &/or skating?

@ThisIsAlmu aint that the truth

@AddictedChris Oh the shiny things… It’s funny how we connect by not belonging

@MattiasVerde I have to do this life thing while being completely myself. I have to.

@AddictedChris I'm happy for you. I also think taking amphetamine medicine is too much of a sacrifice for fitting in.

@SeamusMcTier Well, that's a good reason to write then.

@AddictedChris I'm still trying to understand it all and I wrote it. 🤓😂

Why do so many people love “Star Wars”? When I was 11, Star Wars hit theaters. Like most kids at the time, I was obsessed with the movie and saw it multiple times. I remember some friends and I snuck into the bathroom after the first show just to stay and watch it again without having to buy another ticket. It was mesmerizing. We play acted the scenes and made great childhood memories. I even tried to use the Force to move a rock once. Much to my disappointment, the rock never moved. Sigh. I thought it was all just fantasy. At the time, I didn’t understand the literal interpretation of the movie versus the deeper connotation. I didn’t even know what those words meant. I was just a kid watching a cool sci-fi adventure. I didn’t connect the dots to the deeper messages—but my inner self certainly did. That’s why I was drawn to it. That’s why we were all drawn to it. And it’s why we still are. There’s a reason why movies like Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings feel different from other stories. They resonate with something deeper inside us—something beyond entertainment or nostalgia. They align with our inherent natural law—the divine truth implanted into our souls. Even as children, we recognize something in these stories. A calling to something greater. A longing for light to triumph over darkness. A desire for a hero—but not just any hero. A hero who fights, sacrifices, and chooses what is right, even when it seems impossible. But here’s the part I never realized back then: The battle doesn’t begin with the hero. It begins with someone—or many—who set the mission and story in motion. That’s why Star Wars isn’t just about Luke Skywalker. Before Luke even enters the story, Leia transmits the Death Star plans. But before her, there were countless others working behind the scenes—spies, leaders, rebels who risked their lives to steal those plans. The mission wasn’t just Leia’s; it had been prepared for long before she took action. And that’s exactly how God works in salvation history. God wrote a story filled with participants, not just one Hero. Mary’s fiat didn’t come out of nowhere—it was the culmination of centuries of preparation. From the moment of the Fall in Genesis 3:15, God promised a Redeemer who would come from a Woman and they would crush the serpent’s head. And throughout history, He prepared His people for that moment. The Ark of the Covenant prefigured the Ark of the New Covenant. The mothers of Israel—Sarah, Rebecca, Hannah—foreshadowed the woman who would bear the Messiah. The suffering of Israel, their exile, their trials, all shaped them to understand the need for a Savior. It took generations of faithfulness, suffering, and sacrifice to bring the world to the point where one woman could stand before an angel and say, "Let it be done to me according to your word." And just like Israel, we are also prepared for the missions given to us. Through our own lives—our trials, suffering, and challenges—God prepares us for the moments when we will need to say yes. To fight for what is true. To take the risk. To be part of something greater than ourselves. Now take that exact same thought and apply it to the greatest story ever told. What happens if you erase the family from salvation history? The Devil knows exactly what happens. From the very beginning, Satan has sought to rewrite the story. If he could not defeat God, he would attempt to corrupt or erase the way He chose to save humanity. The first and most effective way to do this was to attack Christ’s divinity—to convince the world that Jesus was merely a teacher, a prophet, or a good moral guide rather than God Incarnate. The moment that deception takes hold, the Cross is stripped of its power. The Eucharist becomes just a symbol. The Resurrection is reduced to metaphor. Salvation itself becomes an abstract concept rather than the real and personal victory of God over death. But if attacking Christ directly is too obvious, there is another way to weaken the story. Attack the family. Because the family is the first place where we encounter the love of the Father, the sacrificial heart of the Son, and the nurturing guidance of the Church as Mother. It is in the family that we learn how to love, how to sacrifice, and how to seek God’s will. Mary is the heart of this reality. If Mary’s role is minimized, if her “yes” is treated as unimportant, then the miracle of the Incarnation loses its human cooperation. If Mary is just another woman, then the Ark of the New Covenant disappears, the New Eve is erased, and suddenly the Word made Flesh is disconnected from the very lineage He came to fulfill. Christianity becomes something mechanical, something purely legal, rather than a divine romance between God and humanity. And here is where we have a blind spot—one that we don’t even recognize. For centuries, the world understood that mothers were the glue that held families together. That without them, the family crumbles. A mother doesn’t just give life biologically; she gives life emotionally, spiritually, and relationally. She is the one who nurtures, who holds things together when everything else is falling apart. But somewhere along the way, we lost sight of this. In today’s world, motherhood has been devalued. Many women no longer see it as an essential calling, but as something secondary—something that gets in the way of a "higher" role. This is not an accident; it is part of the Devil’s deception. He has convinced the world that a woman’s worth is measured by the power she holds in the workplace, not by the love she pours into her family. That a mother’s sacrifice is weakness, not strength. That being a mother is insufficient, and that a woman must seek something "greater"—not realizing that there is nothing greater than creating, nurturing, and raising the next generation of souls. The irony is that so many people today feel that women need a greater role in the Church. But in doing so, they completely overlook the role God already designed them for. The truth is, the highest role given to any human being, male or female, was given to a woman—Mary. She was not called to be a priest. She was not called to be a ruler. She was called to be a mother—and by embracing that, she became the most powerful intercessor, the most exalted human in history, the one through whom God chose to enter the world and bring salvation to mankind. And this is what the Devil fears. Because if he can erase Mary’s role, he can erase motherhood itself. If he can erase motherhood, he can erase the family. And if he can erase the family, he can destroy civilization from within. Just as in Star Wars, without Leia’s transmission of the plans, the battle never even begins, without Mary’s fiat, salvation history never unfolds. And the moment we forget that, we lose sight of the story itself. The greatest trick of the Devil is to convince the world he doesn’t exist. The greatest power to overcome the Devil is to recognize God's full plan for salvation, embrace our role in it, and say "yes" to His will—not just once, but every single day. To ask Him for the grace and strength to carry it out, and to become living examples for others, just as the holy family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph did as a family perfectly aligning with Gods will for them without question. Mary said yes. Leia transmitted the plans. Now it’s our turn. This does not diminish Christ but magnifies Him. Mary’s role was never in competition with Jesus but in complete cooperation with Him. Her fiat—her yes—was an act of free will, just as Christ Himself freely chose to suffer and die for us. And just as Christ is our Savior, He also gave us a road map for living: one that does not exempt us from struggle, temptation, tragedy, or suffering, but shows us how to overcome them. Christian teaching makes it clear that God’s grace is always freely given—but it must be freely received. We are not passive recipients of salvation; we are called to cooperate with God’s grace in order to fully participate in it. Just as Mary opened herself completely to God’s will, we too must respond to His grace, aligning our will with His. The Christian life is not about mere faith or belief—it is about choosing to live in God’s grace daily. It is an active, daily decision to say ‘yes’ to God’s will, even when it costs us everything. Mary’s example does not detract from Christ—it teaches us how to follow Him.

@ThisIsAlmu Spring soon. Have a great day Almu. Enjoy the trip.

@AddictedChris That’s still Madrid!

Guess what, Spain is not only beaches and Tenerife. Thank god

@ThisIsAlmu I like it so that checks out.

Madrid’s subway sometimes looks like it were designed by someone high on acid 🛸

@ThisIsAlmu btw you got all my old ones except the black one, you got that from my sponsor.

Super grateful to have an amazing Dutch sober friend who I learn a lot from and sends me his NA key chains every time I have a sober anniversary… I just received the black one for my two years sober! Thank you @AddictedChris 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤