How to Reclaim Your Story: Turning Anniversaries of Pain into Pillars of Strength
The air is getting crisp here in Sauble Beach. The leaves are starting to turn, and for most people, it’s a season of comfort, of cozy sweaters and pumpkin spice. For a long time, though, the arrival of October brought a cold knot of dread to my stomach.
It’s a heavy month for me. My past, present, and future all seem to collide in a single 10-day span that holds some of my worst memories and my proudest accomplishments. It’s the month I was arrested, the month I got sober, and the month I was born.
It used to feel like a cruel joke. Now, I see it as a gift.
Do you have a date on your calendar that feels like a weight? A day that represents a "before" and an "after"? A day you wish you could just erase from the calendar? I get it. I’ve been there. But what if I told you that day could become your greatest source of strength?
The Anniversary Effect: Understanding the Body's Scorecard
For me, it starts on October 19th. In 2022, that was the day the handcuffs closed around my wrists. The day the career I’d worked so hard for as a Red Seal Powerline Technician evaporated in a flash of blue and red lights. In my mind, it was the day my life ended. The shame was suffocating. The future I had planned was gone.
Then comes October 22nd. Just three days later, in the middle of that wreckage, I made a decision. October 22nd, 2022, is my sober date. It marks the moment I stopped digging my own grave and took the first, trembling step out of it.
For the first year, I dreaded those dates. They felt like twin ghosts, one of failure and one of struggle. Psychologists call this the "anniversary effect"—the way our bodies and minds subconsciously remember and react to significant dates. Your body keeps the score, and mine was screaming.
The Mindset Shift: From Memorial to Monument
The second year, something began to shift. The dread was still there, but it was quieter. And a new thought started to push its way through the noise: What if October 19th wasn't just the end? What if it was the catalyst?
Let me be clear: this wasn't a sudden flash of lightning. It was a slow, messy sunrise. There were days I slipped back into feeling like a victim. Days the shame felt as fresh as it did in 2022. The shift wasn't a one-time event; it's a choice I have to keep making, especially when October rolls around.
The hard truth is, without the concrete finality of the 19th, I might never have found the desperate clarity I needed for the 22nd. Without hitting that absolute bottom, I wouldn't have been forced to look up. One date represents the moment I lost control, and the other represents the moment I took it back. They aren't two separate stories; they are two inseparable parts of the same story.
I started to see them differently. The 19th wasn’t a memorial to a life I’d lost. It was the foundation for the life I was building. A memorial is for something that’s gone. A monument is for something that was built to last. I decided to make my past a monument.
The Framework: 4 Steps to Reclaim Your Story
This wasn't just a random shift in perspective; it was intentional work. It's a process you can apply to any date on your own calendar that holds power over you. I don't have a magic formula, and my path won't be your path. But through that process, I found a few key actions that helped me take the pen back. I'm sharing them not as a prescription, but as a starting point.
1. Acknowledge the Ghost: You can't heal what you don't feel. When the date approaches, don't ignore the anxiety or sadness. Let it in. On the morning of the 19th, I let myself feel that twinge of loss for the career that was. I acknowledge the man I was and the pain he was in. Ignoring it only gives it more power. Face it, name it, and let it know you’re in charge now.
2. Re-Write the Narrative: Take out a journal and draw a line down the middle of a page. On one side, write "What this date took from me." Be honest. Let it all out. On the other side, write "What this date gave me." This might be harder. Dig deep. My answer was stark: It took my career, but it gave me my life back. It gave me sobriety. It gave me humility. It gave me a new purpose to help people.
3. Create a New Ritual: Instead of hiding from the day, fill it with a powerful, positive action. On October 19th, I don’t sit around and mope. I go to my gym, and put myself through a tough workout. I physically remind myself that my body is free, strong, and capable. On the Monday of that week, I make sure I chair my local AA meeting. I take the pain of that private memory and turn it into a public message of hope for someone else. What new ritual can you create? A hike in nature? A coffee with a supportive friend? An act of service?
4. Share the Strength Shame thrives in silence. When you keep your story locked away, it festers. When you share it, it transforms. The moment you say it out loud, you take its power away. You realize you’re not alone, and your story becomes a lifeline for someone else who thought they were. This blog post is me doing this step right now. Sharing this isn't for pity; it's to show you what's possible.
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