The Craving Monster Came. I Won.

I’m not someone who gets “depressed.”

I’ve had my fair share of hard seasons—ones that cracked me open and tested everything I thought I knew—but I’ve always been able to pick myself up. That’s the beautiful, brutal gift of recovery. Since 2009, I’ve walked the path of healing, armed with tools and a deep knowing that I can survive the storm. But recently—maybe last week, maybe the last two—I felt something shift.

I lost my motivation to do the basics.
Clean the house. Go to the gym. Show up for the promises I made to myself.

At first, it felt like exhaustion. But after a few days, it started feeling like resignation. Like a quiet kind of giving up on my own life. And that realization—heavy and sharp—brought even more sadness.

Midweek, I forced myself into movement. I put on makeup, clipped in my fake ponytail, and pulled together my best J.Lo rockstar look. I had promised to show up for my ex-husband (now my gay best friend) at his choir concert. The event was beautiful, but it undid me. Watching him on stage—this man I once loved deeply—sent me spiraling through memories. Concerts. Couch cuddles. Shared songs and silent mornings. There I was in the front row, alone, witnessing a life that used to be mine.

Grief hit me in the chest. And my body translated it the only way it knew how: danger, depression, craving.

Driving home, a powerful urge rose from the depths.

I wanted to stop at a bar.

It was terrifying—sharp, sudden, and visceral. I haven’t had a craving like that in years. But this one didn’t whisper. It roared.

That’s when Aria showed up.

Aria is the name I’ve given to my inner addict—the voice that wants to escape, numb, disappear. I teach my clients to name that part of themselves too, because separation creates power. I know Aria intimately. I know her scent, her voice, her tricks. And on that drive, she was loud.

I could’ve spiraled. But instead, I used the same 3-step craving-crusher formula I teach in my courses and mentorships. I even walked through it in a quick TikTok video and Instagram reel later that day—because the lesson was too good not to share.

Here’s what I did:

1. Accountability & Honesty

I named it. Out loud. “I want to drink.” It’s not easy to admit that kind of craving, especially when I’m someone who coaches others on recovery. But honesty is where freedom begins. Always.

2. Talk to the Voice

I talked to Aria. I didn’t shame her, and I didn’t obey her. I listened. I reminded her that I’m in charge now. She cried. She protested. But eventually, she quieted down. We chose tacos instead of tequila.

3. Grace, Always

When the craving passed—and it always passes if you ride the wave with truth and tools—I curled up, hand on my heart, and smiled. “We did it, babe,” I whispered to myself. No shame. Just grace. Just that steady, sacred pride that comes from choosing myself again.

You can watch me tell this story on Instagram or on TikTok.
It’s short, raw, and real—and it might just help you the next time that craving voice comes knocking.

Here’s the truth:

The biggest win that night wasn’t saying no to the drink.
It was saying no to the shame.

Because I don’t let shame take the mic anymore. And I don’t want you to, either.

Shame is the great silencer. It shrinks us. It disconnects us. It keeps us stuck in the same loop, thinking we’re the only ones who feel this way.

So let me ask you—what’s your shame-temperature today?

If you didn’t drink, hell yes. Celebrate that.
And if you drank when you didn’t want to, that’s okay too. The real work is in what you do next.

Let’s talk about it. Let’s walk through it. Let’s strip off the shame and get back to your power.

💬 You can book a free mentorship call with me here.
📩 Or just reply to this post and tell me what came up for you.
🎥 And if you haven’t yet, watch the craving story on Instagram or TikTok.
Same truth. Just in motion.

Let’s get you sober.
Let’s get you free.
Let’s get you rocking life.

You in?

—
With grace and grit,
Pamela
Founder - My Badass Recovery