​When people talk about addiction, they usually focus on drinking and drugs.
For me, Mental Health Awareness Month is important because my addiction was never just about alcohol. It was about what was happening underneath it all, the anxiety, the trauma, the rumination, the fear, the emotional pain, and the feeling that something was wrong with me long before I ever picked up a drink.

I’ve felt different from others for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I couldn’t explain it, but I always felt off. I experienced a lot of trauma growing up.  Physical, emotional, mental trauma which I carried into my adult life.  At about 18 or 19, I found alcohol and drugs, and for the first time in my life, I felt normal; or at least what I thought “normal” was supposed to feel like.

For years, I functioned in addiction. I worked hard, built a career, and kept pushing myself forward, but internally I was falling apart. My job became my identity. I didn’t know how to slow down or ask for help because I thought I had to carry everything myself.

After COVID, I moved back to Los Angeles from Northern California after completely burning myself out mentally and emotionally. Around the same time, my brother passed away from his addiction. I didn’t process any of it. I isolated, I drank more, and I spiraled deeper into depression.

What people didn’t see was how dark my mental health had become. I was struggling with severe anxiety, obsessive rumination, emotional instability, and eventually hallucinations from my drinking. I started hearing voices and seeing things that weren’t there. But even then, I didn’t ask for help. I thought I could figure it out on my own.

That’s the scary thing about untreated mental health issues and addiction, your thinking becomes distorted, and eventually you stop trusting yourself while still trying to control everything around you.

I reached a point where I genuinely believed everyone would be better off without me. I remember researching ways to end my life while drinking myself numb at the same time. Looking back now, it’s hard to explain how trapped I felt in my own head.

The turning point came when the people closest to me finally set boundaries. My partner of 21 years and my brother both pushed me toward treatment. I searched “rehab near me,” found Grandview Foundation, and for whatever reason, something about it felt safe enough for me to try.

Honestly, I thought I’d only stay a short time. I believed outpatient treatment would be enough because, in my mind, stopping drinking was the solution. What I didn’t understand yet was that alcohol wasn’t the root issue; it was the symptom of everything I had been through.
What changed my life at Grandview wasn’t just sobriety. It was finally addressing my mental health.

The therapy, counseling, process groups, DBT skills, family groups, and conversations with staff and peers helped me understand myself in ways I never had before. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t just surviving emotionally, I was learning how to regulate my emotions, communicate honestly, and sit with uncomfortable feelings without escaping them.

I remember one night early in treatment sitting alone at the Big House feeling completely overwhelmed. I had a conversation with myself, my higher power, and the loved ones I had lost. That night, I forgave myself for a lot of things, and I forgave other people too. I can honestly say I felt lighter afterward. Something shifted in me spiritually and emotionally.

One of the biggest things that recovery gave me was relief from the constant anxiety and rumination I had lived with most of my life. My mind finally became quieter. I became more present. I stopped judging people so harshly because I stopped judging myself so harshly.

Recovery also helped me rebuild trust with my partner. For years, the people I loved got whatever leftovers remained after work, after stress, and after using drugs and alcohol.  Today, accountability means consistency. It means showing up emotionally, being honest, and understanding that love is demonstrated through actions, not intentions.

Mental Health Awareness Month matters because so many people are silently carrying things they don’t know how to talk about. A lot of us grow up believing we must handle everything alone or “man up” through pain. I did that for decades, and it nearly killed me.

What I’ve learned is that asking for help is not weakness. Vulnerability is not weakness. Therapy is not weakness. Recovery taught me that healing begins the moment you stop trying to control everything and allow yourself to trust the process.

I encourage anyone considering treatment, or already in treatment, to understand this: if you truly want help, trust the process completely. Don’t get distracted by everything happening around you or by comparing your journey to someone else’s. Focus on yourself, your healing, and the reasons you entered treatment in the first place.

The longer I stay in recovery, the more I realize that many of the fears I had about sobriety and treatment simply are not true. Instead of losing myself, I finally started finding who I really was.

Recovery has given me an entirely different perspective on life, one that prioritizes every aspect of my health: mental, physical, and spiritual, and for this, I am grateful and inspired to move forward with new purpose and new vision.