Behind Enemy Lines
The reality of trying to survive using white-knuckled sobriety a minute at a time.
Dear Son,
There’s a saying I picked up in early sobriety — one of those gritty truths you only hear in circles where people are trying like hell to stay alive:
“When you’re in your head, you’re behind enemy lines.”
At first, I laughed along with everyone else.
Later — when I was alone, restless, and thinking myself into a corner — it stopped being funny.
Because I realized… I was there.
I was newly sober.
I wasn’t drinking, but I hadn’t yet learned how to live.
My body was clean, but my mind was chaos.
The days were long, the nights longer, and I had nothing but time… and my own thoughts.
That’s the thing about recovery no one tells you:
You’ve got to do more than stop.
You’ve got to fill the space that your old life used to occupy — or it’ll swallow you.
And my head? It was full of fear, shame, regret, and whispers that I wasn’t going to make it.
“You’re too old.”
“It’s too late.”
“You’ve wasted too much.”
Every thought felt like a trap.
So I learned to stop thinking so much and start doing something. Anything.
I didn’t have a roadmap, but I had this one rule:
If my head was turning against me, I needed to get into motion.
Sometimes that meant walking around the block.
Sometimes it meant going to a meeting.
Sometimes it meant sitting in front of a computer and trying to figure out what button did what — just to give my hands something to do while my heart caught up.
Those small movements saved my life.
Because action, no matter how small, pulls you out of the prison of your own mind.
You can’t heal if you’re hiding behind enemy lines.
If I had a son, I’d want him to hear this…
Don’t let your thoughts take you hostage.
You don’t have to win every battle today.
You just have to move.
📌 This letter was written by Fred Ferguson (GeezerWise). If it spoke to you, I’d love to hear back—just hit reply.
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