Four Years Sober: Let Go So That You May Grow

Four years into sobriety doesn’t feel drastically different from three—there’s no lightning bolt of realization, no cinematic turning point. But what does begin to settle in is a quiet and persistent gratitude for continued, sustained sobriety. The number isn’t everything, but it does represent consistency, commitment, and healing.

This past year has been all about letting go to make space for growth. Life has a remarkable way of guiding people exactly where they’re meant to be—when they’re willing to stop gripping the wheel with white-knuckled control. Holding onto negativity, whether it’s through toxic relationships, old resentments, or fear-based thinking, only serves to weigh down the spirit.

This was the first full calendar year following the death of my grandfather, a figure who—alongside my grandmother—formed the core of a small, tightly-knit family unit after the early loss of my mother. Grief has continued to shape the emotional landscape of daily life, often bringing with it an unfamiliar sense of orphanhood. There’s no clean end to that kind of mourning, only movement through it. Simultaneously, the year brought major professional decisions. After years of being the go-to pet sitter for friends and family, that experience gave rise to something new: Keon’s Kritters, a personalized pet care business that started on a large-scale app but quickly became independent due to the steep costs and limitations those platforms place on small providers. The leap was equal parts terrifying and liberating—and it worked.

With that leap came something even more meaningful: the ability to be more present. Present for friends, for chosen family, for the kind of life events that are too often missed in early sobriety out of fear. Two weddings, four theatre productions, and countless milestones filled the calendar this year—not just as a guest, but as someone fully there, fully engaged. The early concern that temptation might overpower self-trust has gradually evolved into a steady confidence and an understanding of when to stay, when to leave, and when to be honest about internal struggles.

That honesty is no longer something to be afraid of. Anxiety once screamed that vulnerability meant weakness or rejection, but the reality is far different. This year, vulnerability created connection—and in turn, many unhealthy connections faded away. There was no need for dramatic exits. Simply healing and growing was enough for some bonds to dissolve naturally. One of the most powerful lessons to emerge was the importance of being intentional with energy: the people, spaces, and opportunities allowed in all directly affect sobriety. Protecting peace isn’t selfish—it’s survival.

There’s a passage in the Big Book known as the promises—a collection of hopeful truths offered to those who stay the course. In previous years, only glimpses of those promises were visible. This year, for the first time, every single one feels real. Freedom, peace, usefulness, self-worth, intuition, and ease with life—they’re no longer concepts but lived experiences. Most notably, self-seeking has begun to fade. Community, connection, and contribution now take precedence. Rather than chasing individual satisfaction, the focus has shifted to how life can be enriched for everyone involved. Presence and intention are the new priorities.

The idea of fun has also undergone a transformation. In the earliest days of sobriety, it felt like fun had died with the bottle. But it turns out, fun never left—it simply had to be redefined. Now it looks like mornings at the farmers market, late-night talks with close friends, creative pursuits, and small moments of joy. Fun is rooted not in chaos, but in connection. It’s found by showing up fully and embracing what’s real.

Sobriety has evolved from a practice into a philosophy. At its core, it’s about removal—letting go of what poisons the mind, body, and soul, whether that’s a chemical, a relationship, or a thought pattern. It’s about creating space for clarity and awareness. That mindfulness doesn’t just change habits; it transforms the lens through which life is viewed.

Service work has deepened too. Previously, it lived in scheduled commitments and planned volunteering—still important, still impactful. But this year revealed that opportunities to be of service exist everywhere: in conversations, in acts of kindness, in showing up when someone needs it. When that kind of service becomes second nature, life feels more meaningful, more connected, more aligned.

Heading into year five, the focus shifts again—toward being present in the lives of others in a more mindful, meaningful way, while continuing to expand the business and give back to the community it serves. Sobriety has made that possible, not because it fixes everything, but because it clears the path to begin.

The promises do come true. They don’t arrive overnight, and they’re not guaranteed simply by putting down a drink. They require change—real, uncomfortable, consistent change. But for those willing to do the work, they arrive. Quietly. Slowly. And when they do, life begins to feel not just survivable, but worth living.