Sober Living Chronicles ~ Chapter 1, Episode 3 – First Meeting

First Day

I kept replaying Rae’s voice in my head.

“Start with your chore. Get up. Do your chore. That’s how you begin to get grounded.”

At the time, during intake, I wasn’t really hearing it. I was just trying to get through everything in front of me—the questions, the paperwork, the rules. All I wanted was to sit down, breathe, and figure out how I ended up here.

But later, in the quiet of my room, those words started to settle in.

Routine. Structure. Start small.

Rae had made it sound so simple.

Get up. Do your chore. Start getting used to the house.

Then she talked about everything else like it was just part of life now: finding a therapist, staying in IOP, starting to think about work again. Getting on the computer. Looking at job applications. Figuring out what the area even had to offer.

It all felt far away to me then. I wasn’t thinking about work. I wasn’t thinking about anything beyond making it through the next hour.

She also explained how the basics would be handled. Grocery store runs. Donations of clothes, if needed. Getting settled in. If someone didn’t have identification or important documents, they would start figuring that out too—piece by piece.

Not everything at once. Just what you needed, when you were ready for it.

Then she got to the part I needed to get comfortable with:

Meetings.

“How are they going to get there if they don’t have a car?” I remember someone asking.

Rae didn’t hesitate. At first, they go with support. The ladies in the house will help you get to meetings during that first week or so. It gives you a chance to figure it out, to feel less alone walking into a room full of strangers.

She said some people try NA. Some try AA. Some don’t know what fits yet, and that’s okay.

But what stuck with me most was what she said about connection.

“You have to meet people. Get numbers. Build your network. Because the people in this house today might not be here tomorrow.”

At the time, I didn’t fully understand what she meant.

I thought I could just figure it out on my own.

But that first meeting came quickly.

A housemate, Sabrina, told me it was time to go. I remember standing there, unsure if I was ready—unsure if I would ever feel ready for anything again. We got in the car, and I stared out the window the whole way there.

When we walked into the meeting, everything felt louder than I expected. Chairs moving. Voices talking. People greeting each other like they already belonged there.

I didn’t.

At least that’s what I thought.

We sat down, and I kept my hands in my lap. Rae’s words came back again—get numbers, build connection—but all I could think about was how I didn’t know a single person in the room.

Then they asked if anyone was new.

I hesitated.

Sabrina leaned over and whispered, “You can just raise your hand.”

So, I did.

Just slightly. Barely.

And in that moment, I realized what Rae was trying to tell me all along.

You don’t do this part alone.

Not really.

And even though I still wasn’t sure what I believed about recovery yet… I stayed.

As we pulled back into the driveway, I could see something was off.

There was a truck parked out front. One of the women from the house, Sara, was outside, her bags already packed, standing next to the pickup.

Another resident, someone who had been there a few months, stood beside her, trying to talk her out of it.

“Just stay. Give it a little more time,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

Sara shook her head. “I’m fine. I got this.”

I stood there for a moment, not really knowing where to go or what to do. It had only been an hour or so since I left for my first meeting, and already something was unraveling.

They went back and forth, but it didn’t take long to realize the truth—when someone has already made up their mind, especially after making the decision days before, there isn’t much you can say to change it.

Sara climbed into the truck without looking back.

The door shut, and just like that, she was gone.

I stood in the driveway, watching the truck disappear down Talbot Street, and felt something shift inside of me.

Rae’s words came back again.

The people in this house today might not be here tomorrow.

I understood it now.

How quickly things can change.
How fast it can all go south.

And for the first time since I walked through that door, I realized this wasn’t just about getting through the day.

It was about the choices you make… every single one of them.

When I finally went inside, everyone was in the kitchen.

No one was really talking. It was like everyone was in their own head, trying to process Sara leaving.

Josie had just gotten off the phone with Rae.

“She said she’s on her way over,” she told us. “She’s going to change the door code… and she said we should pray for her.”

Next Sober Living Chronicles Blog

Learning the rhythm of the house, meeting the women I will live alongside, and discovering that sometimes connection starts in the smallest, most unexpected ways.

💚 Rage Against Addiction – Daughter’s House
Healing begins with safe housing.

Sober Living Chronicles are stories inspired by the real journeys of women in recovery. Names and details have been changed to protect privacy.

A new post is released the first and third week of each month. Follow along as these stories unfold—one step, one day, one chapter at a time.

Sober Living Chronicles and its original written content are the property of Rage Against Addiction. No portion may be reproduced, distributed, or republished without permission, except as permitted by law.