You ever sit there at 2AM, phone glowing in the dark, heart thumping like a trapped animal because you swear… this time… your body’s about to tap out?

Liver’s done. Head’s split. Hands shaky. You start searching up every little symptom, hoping you’ll find that magic answer to calm the panic. But instead, Google just throws gasoline on your anxiety and says: maybe it’s brain damage, maybe it’s liver failure, maybe you’re screwed. That, my friend, is not help… that’s a digital panic attack.

I get it. I know that feeling… thinking, “Maybe if I just drink some water I’ll feel better,” but then your hand’s already reaching for another pour. Because for a lot of us, the poison feels safer than the truth. You’ve danced with this beast before, right? Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself: “I’m just a problem drinker, not an addict.” Next thing you know, you start assuming that identity. You’re not reading for hope… you’re searching for a reason to feel less broken about the next drink.

That used to be my life for years. Twenty-four years pouring it down… sixteen years at high risk… two and a half years at thirty shots a day, and more panic-googling than I’d care to admit. My search history was basically a graveyard of disaster articles. Cirrhosis. Neuropathy. Hepatitis. Every “maybe it’s reversible” hidden behind ten paragraphs of horror. Didn’t matter if half those words had anything to do with me—I was just skimming for proof that I wasn’t completely gone, or that I was already too far past saving.

Here’s the truth nobody told me when I was downing cheap whiskey and scrolling WebMD: You’re not addicted to alcohol as much as you’re addicted to escaping your own head.

Let that sink in. Read it again if you have to.

It’s not just the booze… it’s the fear cycle. You drink… you feel anxious and beat up… you Google… you get hit with worst-case scenarios… so you drink again, just to quiet the panic your own mind created. Around and around until even your thoughts feel like they belong to somebody else. Next thing you know, you’re addicted to running—not from alcohol, but from yourself.

Back when I thought I’d destroyed my liver for good, I was convincing myself I’d never get out—that every ache was a death sentence. But here’s the wild part: I’ve sat across from thousands of people who swore the exact same thing. “It’s over. I’m broken. I’ll never heal.” And you know how many of them were right? Zero. Not a single one. But damn, did we all believe it at 2AM with the shakes and a spinning brain.

The biggest lie your anxiety ever told you is that there’s no coming back. And Google will back that lie up all night long, if you let it.

But what if… just what if… the problem isn’t your liver, or your heart, or those phantom aches? What if it’s the fear itself? What if the very thing you’re dreading—facing that pain sober, sitting with those hard truths for a minute—instead of pouring it away… is actually the only thing that’s ever going to set you free?

I didn’t heal because the panic stopped. I healed because I stopped letting panic make my choices. I gave myself some grace. Drank a little less. Sat through the shakes and the bullshit thoughts long enough to realize: My body didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed a break. My mind didn’t need constant reassurance from strangers online—it needed honesty, compassion, and a little community that wasn’t cashing in on my misery.

Inside the Beyond Sober program, this is what we do—break the cycle. Not by scaring you with a bunch of “forever broken” stories, but by showing you that healing is possible, even if you think you’ve gone too far. We talk about reality, not doomscrolling. Support, not shame. Brains and bodies that are ready to recover when you finally stop running from your own reflection.

If you’re tired of feeling like your story ends with the next symptom search… I promise you, it doesn’t. You’re not broken, you’re waking up. You’re not lost, you’re just used to looking for answers in all the wrong places.

You can start over. You can heal. Hell, you can even rewrite what you think this whole thing is supposed to be. All it takes is one honest look in the mirror… and a little less running. If you want help, I’ve got you. But even if you’re not ready for that, just know: the panic is lying, and you don’t have to listen.

This is your shift. You don’t have to drink your way through it. You just gotta stay conscious through the fear… and let yourself heal.

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.

-Kohdi