Listen Linda

Change has a way of exposing everything. It will pull apart the seams of who we are, forcing us to confront what we’ve held onto and what we’ve outgrown. Because change is ruthless. Stripping away the illusion, peeling back every layer we’ve constructed. It’s neither gentle nor forgiving. It does not wait for us to be ready, nor does it accommodate our fears. It moves forward, with or without our permission.

Then there is trust. Trust is even harder. It doesn’t demand action like change does. It waits in the silence, and asks us to believe without guarantees, to risk without assurance. It asks us to let go when we want to control, to believe when doubt feels safer, and to soften when these experiences have made us harder. And when family is involved, trust is a battle we often don’t realize we are fighting. These tensions become even heavier. Because the ties are woven into history—tethered with obligations and an unspoken expectation. No one sees who we used to be more vividly than those who have known us the longest. And that is the greatest obstacle and the most profound opportunity for redemption.

Then there’s recovery. And it isn’t just personal. It ripples outward, touching every relationship, every memory, every unspoken hurt. You can be living clean, working the steps, showing up in ways one has never done before. But unfortunately, it doesn’t mean that the people around you will immediately see it, let alone trust it. And sadly, that’s the hardest part, isn’t it? The space between knowing you’ve changed and turning over this new leaf. Starting new beginnings.  The space between becoming and recognized. The space where progress will meet doubt then waiting for these people to see it, and to believe it. Recovery magnifies it all. All we can do is keep going, keep showing up, keep proving with unwavering consistency that this time, it IS different.

And with family, it all carries weight. The weight of past mistakes, the weight of forgiveness that may not fully come, the weight of trying to prove without forcing—that this time is different. And then there is an obligation to make things right, to mend broken trust, to be worthy of belief again.

But the cold hard truth is with family it isn’t just about proving ourselves, it’s about learning to live fully in who we are now, even if they aren’t ready to accept it yet. We must be okay with the idea that they may not be. And be willing to move on regardless of their forgiveness or not. And it’s a hard pill to swallow if we find ourselves without. And be okay without it. And not allowing it to trigger us back into old ways of thinking. Because we are stronger than that. Or are they supposed to be. And allow time, coping skills, therapy…etc. to be medicinal to our recovery. Because we want to be worthy of the belief again. And that it’s the integrity of this change of behavior and life that it’s about doing the right thing, even when no one is watching. And not abandoning this newfound growth for the sake of their approval. Because just maybe change isn’t meant to be validated by others? Maybe it’s ab out standing firm in our own transformation? Maybe healing is about making peace with the fact that some relationships cannot be fixed. And that some wounds will take a lifetime to close. And maybe in that loss there is growth?

Because, yes, trust takes time. And yes, the weight of expectation may still linger. But change, real change, has its own gravity. It WILL speak louder than words. And it WILL settle into the quiet spaces where doubt once lived, and eventually—when the time is right, no one will be able to deny it. Because our actions are proof of our growth, change, and sobriety. But I am learning that the hardest part isn’t proving ourselves, it’s realizing we don’t have to. That we are still worthy whether our past is forgiven or not.

So, we hold onto our faith, trust our own strength, and let time do what it does—heal in its own way, in its own time. Real change moves with its own gravity. It doesn’t need permission to exist. It will be felt in time. And when the world is ready to see it—there will be no denying it.