What January 1st Used to Mean
January 1st used to arrive with a familiar mix of hangxiety, regret, and shame.
I’d wake up telling myself this was the year. I wanted to quit. I’d set the goal. I’d make promises to myself — sometimes out loud, sometimes silently — but I never had it in me to sustain change for very long. Deep down, I knew alcohol wasn’t working for me anymore, but knowing that and actually changing were two very different things.
By January 1st of 2024, I was already on the list for rehab. And yet, even with that reality staring me in the face, I was still trying to squeeze in as much drinking as possible before I went. It sounds irrational when I say it out loud now, but at the time it made sense to a brain that had been wired around alcohol for years.
Again, I was forced to face the truth: this wasn’t working. I needed help.
My habits were so deeply ingrained into my daily life that no amount of willpower or “starting fresh” could undo them. I knew I wanted to be sober. I knew the cost of continuing. But no matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t see a path forward that actually stuck.
Rehab gave me something I hadn’t been able to create on my own — space.
Thirty days away from my environment, my routines, and my triggers allowed me to break patterns that had quietly controlled my life. For the first time, I wasn’t just trying to quit; I was learning how to live differently. Structure became my foundation: meetings for a while, outpatient treatment, regular check-ins with my therapist. Nothing flashy. Nothing dramatic. Just consistent support.
Slowly, I began stacking days.
I wasn’t loud about my recovery like some people are — and there’s nothing wrong with that. For me, this was quiet work. I kept things close and leaned on a small circle of people I trusted. In those early days, I felt like a baby deer on wobbly legs — unsure, unsteady, but moving forward anyway. Each step built strength I didn’t yet realize would last.
That experience is why I built Quiet Strength Coaching.
It’s for men who need support but don’t feel aligned with traditional programs. Men who don’t necessarily need a room full of people or a rigid framework — but do need a place to check in, to talk honestly, and to understand that their thoughts, fears, and struggles are not unique or broken.
Sometimes what people need most is a steady presence. Someone to help them slow down, create structure, and make sense of what they’re feeling — without pressure or shame.
If you’re ready to breathe new life into your life, if you’re tired of doing this alone, or if you simply need someone to walk alongside you as you figure out what comes next — reach out.
I’m here.