Rachel Miller Of Recovery Daily Podcast: Second Chapters; How I Reinvented Myself In The Second Chapter Of My Life
An Interview With Jake Frankel
Humility was initially mistaken for defeat in my eyes. I wish I had understood earlier that it’s sign of acceptance, willingness, and strength. Embracing humility has been pivotal for my emotional sobriety and professional growth. It’s taught me grace and helped me to accept my imperfections. When I start feeling jealous or envious, I now recognize it as a signal to reflect and work on myself, not others.
Many successful people reinvented themselves in a later period in their lives. Jeff Bezos worked on Wall Street before he reinvented himself and started Amazon. Sara Blakely sold office supplies before she started Spanx. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was a WWE wrestler before he became a successful actor and filmmaker. Arnold Schwarzenegger went from a bodybuilder, to an actor to a Governor. McDonald’s founder Ray Kroc was a milkshake-device salesman before starting the McDonalds franchise in his 50s.
How does one reinvent themselves? What hurdles have to be overcome to take life in a new direction? How do you overcome those challenges? How do you ignore the naysayers? How do you push through the paralyzing fear?
In this series called “Second Chapters; How I Reinvented Myself In The Second Chapter Of My Life “ we are interviewing successful people who reinvented themselves in a second chapter in life, to share their story and help empower others.
As a part of this interview series, I had the pleasure of interviewing Rachel Miller.
Rachel Miller, a gratefully recovering alcoholic and stroke survivor, embraces the power of storytelling to share her experience, strength, and hope with others through the Recovery Daily Podcast. Her podcast, born from stepping back from her beloved career due to post-stroke neurological disorders and chronic pain, is a chronicle of her recovery journey, personal growth, and challenges with mental health, alcoholism, and stroke aftermath. Her vulnerability in confronting the unseen illnesses deep within to begin new chapters in her life is a testament to the healing that emerges from willingness and gratitude.
Thank you so much for doing this with us! Before we start, our readers would love to “get to know you” a bit better. Can you tell us a bit about your childhood backstory?
Hi, I’m Rachel Miller. Thank you for the opportunity to share my experience, strength, and hope with others that may encounter unplanned new chapters in their lives. Growing up in Leesburg, Virginia, I was fortunate to have a wonderful childhood surrounded by a loving family. This backdrop for my life has been a critical element in transitioning between my life’s three chapters. My family is the core of what I call “Team Rachel,” a support system that includes doctors, fellow stroke survivors, and recovering alcoholics. What I didn’t know as a child was that there were illnesses that lived deep within me that would later surface as alcoholism and an ischemic stroke. These defined the chapters that I would transcend.
Despite having a nurturing childhood, I struggled with feelings of boredom, sadness, loneliness, and fear. I had lots of friends and found myself never quite comfortable unless I was in class learning. I loved school. Did that strong desire to learn and sit at my desk lead me to straight A’s and the short path to working at NASA? No, that’s not how my story goes. I felt protected in the classroom. Nobody could talk to me and there was a teacher that I could continuously seek approval from. That was my happy place. As a 49-year-old career-minded women, I still feel most comfortable when I’m in a learning environment.
Today I lean into discomfort rather than hide from it, and each transcendence to a new chapter has been a painful process of exercising willingness, humility, and empathy. I remain immensely grateful for my family which has grown to include my partner of 17 years, my two children, and two dogs. These are my pillars throughout each chapter of my life, offering unconditional love, strength, and support.
Enduring alcoholism, vision impairment, and daily migraines post-stroke has opened opportunities of self-discovery and connection that I would not have known otherwise. Core aspects of myself, discovered within the challenges of recovery, serve as the foundation for my growth.
Can you please give us your favorite “Life Lesson Quote”? Can you share how that was relevant to you in your life?
My favorite quote is by Brené Brown: “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.” This resonates deeply with me, as someone who has wrestled with anxiety for as long as I can remember. I used to view my anxiety as a defect, a character flaw that held me back and something I believed I needed to overcome. I thought with practice I could reduce or even eliminate vulnerability from my life and be brave whenever I needed to put on my superwoman cape.
However, my understanding of vulnerability has evolved. I’ve come to see it not as a weakness, but as a powerful tool for growth, signaling the advent of something new and potentially exciting. Getting to this point wasn’t easy — it involved lots of tears, voice shaking, and loss of appetite, all part of an intense sobriety program to shift my perspective. Like any skill, accepting vulnerability as a tool rather than a debilitation takes practice.
I was introduced to Brené Brown through a Comprehensive Addiction Treatment Services (CATS) Program in Fairfax, VA during my detox from alcohol. Everything she said struck a chord with me, but this particular quote touched me deeply. It helped me realize that feeling nervous, scared, or uncomfortable, and experiencing the physical symptoms of anxiety like hyperventilating and trembling, are not signs of weakness. These are signs that great things are on the horizon. The fact that she was talking about this topic meant I wasn’t alone in feeling this way. I’m not unique. There’s a lot to be said for knowing you aren’t unique. Through this realization some of these symptoms immediately lessened.
I had mistakenly thought that vulnerability marked the outer limits of my capabilities, but I’ve learned it actually reveals the inner depths of my capacity for greatness. It’s a reminder that the moments when we feel most vulnerable are often the moments that precede significant growth and transformation. This quote has been a guiding light for me, teaching me to lean into vulnerability because it is where true change begins.
You have been blessed with much success. In your opinion, what are the top three qualities that you possess that have helped you accomplish so much? If you can, please share a story or example for each.
When I reflect on the qualities that have been pivotal in my journey, these three stand out: willingness, humility, and gratitude. I’ve found that discomfort is essential for growth.
I used to avoid things that heightened my anxiety symptoms. I was truly afraid of feeling them. When I made the decision to get sober, I felt naked. I was forced to face uncomfortable truths about myself, even when every fiber of my being wanted to run the other way. I felt my anxiety ease after I talked to another person, whether it was my addiction therapist, sponsor, or others in my fellowship. By experiencing first-hand how communicating my truth to others invited serenity into my life, I became ready to step into the unknown and embrace the lessons that come from it. This willingness to disrupt my comfort zone has allowed me to push through barriers and transform my life in ways I never thought possible.
Humility, of which I read the definition repeatedly in sobriety, has entirely changed my professional relationships. “To understand than to be understood” is a phrase that I was introduced to and later discovered printed inside my fortune cookie. This idea reminds me that it’s not all about me. Being of service to others and practicing empathy is healing. Inviting humility in, even when I don’t want to, has reshaped my approach to life, both professionally and personally. There was a time when I sought validation, approval, and success through self-promotion. But recovery taught me the value of humility — how serving and understanding others fills my life with a sense of purpose that ego-driven achievements never could. With continued practice, humility is a quality that continues to ground me and remind me that we’re all connected, a bunch of humans learning how to be, each with our own struggles. By recovering out loud, my hope is that I can help others learn how to be a little easier than I did.
Lastly, gratitude has been my anchor. Even on my toughest days, recognizing and appreciating the good — no matter how small — shifts my perspective from what I’ve lost due to my stroke to opportunities that I’ve been gifted. For example, after my stroke, I felt overwhelmed by the things I could no longer do, due to a vision impairment and chronic daily migraines. However, by practicing gratitude despite these challenges I’ve been able to see the wealth of support and love I have from my family, friends, and even strangers. It has helped me resurface joy in unexpected ways. Gratitude gives me the willingness to enjoy new hobbies that are less triggering and more accommodating to my condition. I’ve been able to invest my ambitious energy into my Recovery Daily Podcast, giving a voice to the illnesses that live deep within me. Gratitude turns what I have into enough, and it’s been the quiet force behind my achievements as I turn the page to new chapters in my life.
These qualities — willingness, humility, and gratitude — were learned in sobriety and have transformed challenges into opportunities, making my recovery one of fulfillment.
Let’s now shift to the main part of our discussion about ‘Second Chapters’. Can you tell our readers about your career experience before your Second Chapter?
Before my second chapter began — sobriety at age 42 — my career was full of opportunities, though they were often overshadowed by my struggle. I worked as an airline tariff analyst for years until leadership recognized my potential and promoted me to a training position. I prided myself on being proficient with the material and having strong relationships with people, however, this opportunity came at a time when I was barely holding on, running on debilitating anxiety, virtually no sleep, insufficient nutrition, and daily withdrawl, all while trying to be ‘on’ and engaging all day. My body was in revolt, fighting back against the very substances I was using to combat my anxiety and depression.
I then had the chance to join a family business, taking the helm of all digital marketing efforts, overseeing significant budgets, and working from home — a blessing that allowed me to be present for my children as a single mom. But as time went on, my drinking escalated; what started as an evening habit crept into the afternoons and eventually into the mornings. I found myself drinking around the clock, making simple errors that were costly. My behavior during periodic visits to the headquarters became increasingly erratic until I began to miss entire mornings. When the company recognized my battle with alcohol, they offered me a severance package, which I accepted, allowing me to leave and, regrettably, to continue ignoring the illness that was consuming me.
After a few months, I found a new role as a digital marketing specialist. Here, I was able to define my role, carving out a new path for myself. Yet, my addiction grew worse, leading to drinking even at work. There was one person I confided in, the right person, who would offer encouragement and support when I couldn’t muster any for myself. This individual, who later became my boss and a dear friend, played a pivotal role in my journey to recovery, even though he’s never taken the credit I feel he deserves for saving my life. He spoke up. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
And how did you “reinvent yourself” in your Second Chapter?
Reinventing myself in my Second Chapter was only possible with a strong support system behind my personal determination. When I took the step to confide in someone about my disease, it felt like the ball was in play, and I was no longer alone. My company became my unwavering cheerleaders, supporting me wholeheartedly as I checked into a detox facility. I had only been in the company for seven months, and they lifted me up and gently placed me on a path of recovery. Of course, my family was the bedrock, but my company was the stream that pushed me along.
The beginning of recovery was demanding; balancing a full-time job while attending an intensive outpatient program for several hours a week over the course of ten weeks was no small feat. I remember arriving at work at 6 am one morning and my boss said that I was noticeably talking slow and he was concerned. It was the most exhausted I’d been in my life. It was the cost of saving my life.
The company’s flexibility with my schedule was crucial, allowing me the space to drive between my commitments, all in pursuit of maintaining sobriety. I’ll never forget the beautiful flowers they sent when I graduated from my program — such a gesture of support in a corporate environment is rare, and it’s something I’ll always hold dear.
This incredible support fostered a sense of loyalty in me. I became a dedicated stakeholder in the company’s success. The clarity of mind, emotional stability, and physical stamina I gained through my recovery were not just personal victories — they were catalysts for professional growth. I found myself filling gaps, pioneering ideas, and collaborating across teams, bringing a level of creativity and marketing acumen that propelled our growth forward. I was truly unstoppable.
Promotions came as a natural byproduct of my dedication and long hours. I was running, writing, engaging in public speaking, and strategizing at the level I had aspired. My efforts led me to build relationships with C-level executives, and I called upon my family business experiences to contribute in meaningful ways. I was now part of critical conversations, sharing my thoughts on how we could collectively steer the organization towards success.
It was almost surreal to reflect on where I began — walking into the company seven years prior as an active alcoholic, green in the industry, armed with a strong understanding of paid Google search. I was overwhelmed by the acronyms and innovative concepts that dominated discussions. Yet there I was, having achieved what once seemed a pipedream, engaging with executives on strategies that really mattered for our future.
It’s incredible what can happen when you have the courage to turn the page on your life, coupled with the support of those around you. My Second Chapter is every bit a story about personal reinvention that can reached when we’re lifted by others and driven by a commitment to ourselves. I’m grateful that my story didn’t end before I had a chance to turn the page — I still had the pen in my hand to rewrite the next chapter.
Then came My Third Chapter, which I never saw coming: an ischemic stroke at age 46 that left me visually impaired with chronic daily migraines and a mild neurocognitive disorder in speech and language. Life reshuffled the deck without asking me if I was ready for a new game. What I quickly realized is that the tools of my sobriety program fit the similar challenges I have been facing in stroke recovery. I once again was faced with a life-changing decision: to leave my beloved job and focus on my health or continue to decline.
Can you tell us about the specific trigger that made you decide that you were going to “take the plunge” and make your huge transition?
At the threshold of both transformative chapters in my life, it was clear that my life unmanageable. The pain led me to self-destruction. My battle with alcoholism slowly consumed me until I could no longer show up for life. The emotional pain that lived inside me anchored me in place. After my stroke I spent two years in denial refusing to accept that my deficits were going to take me out of the corporate race. Those two years left me once again unable to be present due to unmanageable pain, yet this time it was physical pain. In both instances, it was pain that nobody could see.
One night in a moment of rare self-awareness, I looked in the mirror and saw a desperate need for change. I saw my life slipping away. I lost all color in my skin, my hygiene had increasingly deteriorated, and my eyes were absent of hope. I didn’t think that I had a choice to not pick up a drink. My obsession with alcohol consumed me. My disease told me that I no longer had the freedom of choice. In the days and months that I approached sobriety, I was introduced by other sober folks to the idea that I did have a choice. The choice started with willingness to change. That willingness came out of desperation. I was slowly dying and was gifted with the willingness to seek help.
Five years later, post-stroke, I was left with a multitude of health challenges. The immediate symptoms included vision impairment, chronic daily migraines, and an inability to engage in activities I had once taken for granted. I could no longer ride in the car with my eyes open, take long walks with my dogs, ride a bike, run, kayak, watch tv, or use digital devices. My symptoms seemed to be exacerbated if my vision was exposed to movement. Since my stroke did not impact my speech, and I was seemly unscathed to others, I entered a two-year period of denial, jumping right back into life and work as if nothing significant had happened. Adhering to a recovery plan suggested by my doctors, I took long breaks from my work whenever the pain passed a threshold that inhibited my ability to look at the computer.
During those two years of denial, I refused to accept that my stroke irrevocably altered my life until I was left with no alternative. Cognitive challenges became frustratingly and, at times, dangerously apparent. So, there I was unable to look at digital devices, unable to remember I turned the sink or stove on, and unable to remember words in my conversations. My commitment to my professional growth became something that was now harming me.
As my health rapidly declined, I romanced ideas of finding relief in prescription drugs and alcohol. I recognized that my sobriety was at risk, and my life was unmanageable once again. I stopped waging war within me and became my own ally. In what felt like a moment’s decision, yet one that I’d been making for two years, I retreated from my career and began the grieving process. I was grieving all that was lost: my sight, my freedom, my job, my work friends, my professional goals, my exercise goals, the hobbies I love, etc. So much lost — how could I ever turn this life back in to a joyful one?
What did you do to discover that you had a new skillset inside of you that you haven’t been maximizing? How did you find that and how did you ultimately overcome the barriers to help manifest those powers?
Surfacing an underutilized skillset as a multimedia storyteller has been both relieving and healing. In sobriety I’ve learned how to share with authenticity, often crying my way through my shares. There’s so much healing in exchanging stories with folks experiencing similar challenges. Releasing the pain that had been trapped inside me for years made room for joy and serenity. It was like lifting the sandbags off my chest that have been weighing me down my whole life.
Following my two-year period of denial post-stroke, I was confronted with this new reality where many of my previous activities and passions, like working and running, were no longer feasible. This familiar feeling of despair compelled me to explore different avenues of self-expression and creativity.
From the day I accepted my disability, podcasting struck me as the perfect outlet, realizing that the one thing I could still do was use my voice. My podcast, Recovery Daily Podcast, became a canvas for my thoughts and recovery experiences. It was here that I started to weave my stroke recovery narratives with the tools that I learned in sobriety. The challenge was to create an immersive experience for my listeners while providing a conversational tone like the listener is sitting next to me on the couch. As my disability allowed, I pulled in various multimedia elements — from selecting the right music, to understanding the nuances of podcasting and building an audience.
Simultaneously, I’ve embarked on writing a memoir. This process is further honing my storytelling abilities, as I learn to paint pictures of my life with words, bringing my experiences and emotions to life. It’s been quite a journey so far, marrying my past recovery with my present.
My vision impairment and migraines have posed a significant challenge. But I turned to technology and adaptive techniques to aid my creative process. Screen readers and speech-to-text software became something I heavily depended on in writing and editing. I’ve become a better listener.
I spent a week creating meditations for my podcast with classical background music and calming visualizations created through storytelling. That project stemmed from a pressing need to manage my stress and anxiety amid growing uncertainty about my neurocognitive and physical health.
I’ve always had a love for writing. Discovering and nurturing my skillset as a multimedia storyteller is fueled by a desire to connect and share my experience, strength, and hope with others. You know how they say that when one door closes, another opens? Sometimes you have to jab a foot or elbow in the tiny crack and pry the door the open. This can lead to results we never anticipated, but we have to participate in life and put in the work for it to ultimately shape us.
How are things going with this new initiative? We would love to hear some specific examples or stories.
I’ve leveraged various channels to share my narrative. My Recovery Daily Podcast allows me to engage with my listeners on a personal level, discussing recovery challenges and resilience in real-time, as I go through it. I balance the gravity of these topics with a lighter side, recently podcasting about how to host a royal tea party. I have to find ways to celebrate life’s joys amid the challenges.
I’ve also contributed my voice to local media outlets like Loudoun Now and broadened my reach through podcast interviews with Stroke Stories, Recovery After Stroke, and Through the Glass Recovery. These experiences have helped me to refine my storytelling skills and connect with others on similar paths, and that is where a lot of healing is.
My insights have found a home in online communities as well, such as trackinghappiness.com and medium.com, where I’ve shared a range of written articles focused on recovery. Social media channels like Instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn have been instrumental in amplifying my voice, allowing me to reach a wider audience with my message of hope and resilience. They also enable me to receive encouragement, which has been critical on difficult days.
On my website, recoverydailypodcast.com, I maintain a blog where I detail topics from my podcast, like gratitude, forgiveness, and acceptance. A new program called “Reads and Recovery” is a book club where we read books that are related to recovery. I provide a book review at the end of the month. This has been a cool addition and allows me to merge my love for listening to audio books with my passion for recovery. Through this, I’ve been able to recommend books that resonate with my journey and inspire others on their own paths. Our last book was “The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober” by Catherine Gray.
The response to my work has been overwhelmingly positive, filling me with gratitude. There’s been a palpable interest and encouragement from people eager to hear my stories. This reception motivates me and validates the importance of using my voice. A lot of times I am able to echo the experiences of many of my peers in sobriety and stroke recovery.
Is there a particular person who you are grateful towards who helped get you to where you are? Can you share a story about that?
There is, without a shadow of a doubt, one person for whom I’m overflowing with gratitude for where I am today — my partner. For the past 17 years, he has been nothing short of an angel, a caregiver, and an unwavering pillar of support for me. We have become so connected that he often can finish my sentences, which with my current speech and language challenges, this is not just endearing, but sometimes a relief.
He possesses an innate sense of when I need help before I ask for it. I’m not the best at asking for help, but I’m getting better at it. He seems to understand the gravity of my condition, the kind of pain that I try so hard to overlook to maintain a semblance of normalcy, yet, on the inside, some days, it feels like it’s just swallowing me whole.
Without a single gripe, he takes the day off work to drive me to my doctor’s appointments. He has this incredible ability to radiate positivity, even when I can barely muster a smile, and I can only imagine the weight on his shoulders, balancing a demanding job in technology leadership on top of everything he does for me.
His patience and love are unwavering, and he has a strength and determination that is so helpful when we’re navigating medical care and seeking answers. He accompanies me on my doctors’ visits to ensure I’m getting what I need to maintain a path forward and we don’t stall in progress toward finding an answer to my disorders. Some days he’s the only reason I have hope because I’ve lost the ability to cultivate it on my own. And for that, I am eternally grateful.
Can you share the most interesting story that happened to you since you started in this new direction?
Since embarking on recovering out loud through storytelling, the most fascinating realization I’ve come across is the interconnection between sobriety and stroke recovery. It’s as if I’d been subtly preparing for my stroke recovery through my sobriety journey.
There are five fundamental principles that I’ve adopted in sobriety which have become integral to my stroke recovery:
- One Day at a Time: In sobriety, we live one day at a time. A friend in sobriety who has since passed used to remind us daily that “we only have today.” This approach has been powerful in my stroke recovery as well. It helps me focus on today’s self-care, rather than getting overwhelmed by the long road ahead.
- Acceptance: Acceptance is a cornerstone of sobriety. Acknowledging that I can’t control people, places, and things. I can’t change that my stroke happened and that I am disabled. Accepting my new limitations has been critical to my mental health. This is something I have to revisit and practice every day.
- Willingness: Sobriety taught me to turn off my “wanter” and do the next right thing whether I want to or not — when I want to say no, say yes. When I’m feeling wrapped up in self, be willing to be of service to others. Eventually it becomes a habit.
- Support Networks: Just as a support fellowship is critical to my sobriety, the support of family, friends, healthcare professionals, and other stroke survivors is paramount in stroke recovery.
- Celebrating Milestones: In sobriety, every sober day is a victory. Similarly, each small step forward in stroke recovery is a milestone worth celebrating. I haven’t seen much in the way of physical healing lately, but I’m making large strides in exercising and building strong mental health.
These principles that once guided me through sobriety now light the way in my stroke recovery. It’s an incredible realization that has given me tools I can leverage to adapt and grow, to surface joy and serenity still.
Did you ever struggle with believing in yourself? If so, how did you overcome that limiting belief about yourself? Can you share a story or example?
Absolutely, there have been countless times in my life that I’ve thought, “I’m not strong enough for this”, particularly when I decided to quit drinking. At that time, my box of Vella Chardonnay felt my best friend that saw me through everything, and I believed it was what managed my anxiety and depression. I had a warped notion that I wasn’t strong enough to face life without it. The trembling, the visible manifestation of my anxiety, I feared, would kill me if I stopped drinking. But it was the wine that was causing the tremors, not alleviating them. It wasn’t my strength; it was slowly killing me.
I couldn’t see that until I trudged through the muck of my life, cleaned out my “dark place”, and found the strength was always inside me being drowned with alcohol.
“I’m strong enough today, right this minute.” — This became my mantra. When I got sober, I started running with a friend. I was a mess — weak, cloudy-headed, malnourished, and dehydrated — but we persisted, week after week. I could only manage about 30 seconds of running at first, but soon 30 seconds became 45, and before long, the mental fog lifted, my health improved, and I discovered an energetic version of me.
Emboldened by this progress, I decided to train for a 5K. My self-prescribed regimen was that I’d alternate between a minute of walking and running, gradually increasing the running time each week by just 1-minute intervals. The day came that I was to remove my coveted 1-minute walk between the two 15-minute intervals. As I pushed past the 15-minute mark, I repeated to myself, “I’m ok right now,” with each step. It was an ah-ha moment for me. It was an epiphany that underscored the meaning of living in the moment.
My realization was that this same minute-by-minute affirmation had been instrumental in keeping me sober as well. It was a newfound clarity that whether it’s sobriety or running, life’s difficulties are best tackled one step at a time. Whenever I’m faced with the temptation to give up, I do a quick self-assessment on my well-being and just take the next step.
In my own work I usually encourage my clients to ask for support before they embark on something new. How did you create your support system before you moved to your new chapter?
When I first got sober it wasn’t entirely clear to me the role that a strong support system would play in my life. What I like to call “Team Rachel” was formed simply by continuing to suit up and show up for life; it was built on the daily decision I make to stay sober and reach out for help rather than isolating myself which is my inherent tendency.
In both new chapters of my life, I had to ask for help, which was the opposite of what I wanted to do at the depths of my suffering. I used to believe that going it alone was the only way, the brave and independent way. But I slowly realized the importance of sharing stories with each other within a community of like-minded people. My family was the first to become part of this support system, offering the unconditional love I’ve always known.
The medical professionals, the doctors and therapists, who have provided me with guidance on my holistic health, have been another critical element of my support. Of course, before I got sober, I wasn’t exactly honest with them. When I truly wanted to recover, that is when their expertise helped to understand and navigate my conditions.
Then there are the millions stroke survivors who I naively had overlooked prior to my stroke, thinking that all stroke survivors’ disabilities and deficits are obvious and visible. This is simply not true. I’ve been introduced in my brief time as a survivor to so many folks whose deficits and struggles are deep within them. Their stories of resilience and determination are inspirational and a reminder that I am not alone.
Last but absolutely not least, the recovering alcoholics — my peeps in sobriety. They’ve taught me the power of shared experiences, the strength that can be found in vulnerability, and the healing that occurs when we are of service to each other.
“Team Rachel” is my community that helps me wake up in the morning, eat healthy, and know what the next right thing is. Asking for help is the bravest thing one can do. Without ‘Team Rachel,’ my new chapters wouldn’t have been possible.
Starting a new chapter usually means getting out of your comfort zone, how did you do that? Can you share a story or example of that?
I call this turning off my “wanter” — that’s the voice inside you that tells you to do what feels good — and instead, I do the next right thing, no matter whether I want to.
When I began my sobriety journey, there were countless times I didn’t want to show up to sobriety meetings. I felt uncomfortable. I was tired. And well, I just didn’t feel like it. But I went anyway, and every time I did, I felt better when the meeting was over. The same goes for my podcast. Hitting the record button can sometimes feel like a drag, especially when I’m not in the mood to put myself out there and I’m low on energy. But I do it anyway, because doing things my way — the way that led me to drink and to pain — didn’t work time and time again.
How do I know what the “next right thing” is? Well, there’s a lot of self-talk that goes on. I ask myself, “What would I tell my kids to do in this situation?” or “What would my parents suggest?” It’s about looking outside of myself for guidance, and that’s where my support system, “Team Rachel,” comes into play.
Meditation is another tool I’ve harnessed to step out of my comfort zone calmly. I’ve never been one to slow down easily, so instead, I carve out moments in my day to just stop. In those moments, I take a couple deep breaths and listen to Tamara Levitt and Jeff Warren on Calm. It’s a practice that brings so much peace in the middle of living, and my comfort zone seems to expand around whatever I may be fearful of or nervous about.
I’ve always heard this phrasing about “getting out of your comfort zone.” As I continue to lean in to discomfort, I understand that my comfort zone is not some invisible area that is marked off with caution tape like I always envisioned. It’s a space within me that can stretch, renew, and embrace the challenges around me, if I maintain willingness. It’s this inner flexibility that allows me to get comfortable being uncomfortable and grow through it.
What are your “5 things I wish someone told me before I started” and why?
These five principles are ones that I learned in sobriety. If only someone had sat me down and said, “Rachel, embrace these, become friends with them,” maybe I’d have been prepared for what was to come. But honestly, I wouldn’t have listened. I had to learn by doing, often the hard way.
- Gratitude: Building a habit of gratitude by acknowledging three things to be grateful for each day has dramatically improved my quality of life. This daily habit has taught me how to seek and celebrate positivity, even on days that seem devoid of anything remotely joyful. It has stretched my capacity for recognizing the good, the growth, and the serenity that lives just beneath the surface in our everyday lives. Starting about the second year of sobriety I got consistent with doing this daily. There are days when writing down gratefuls feels like a chore, but this is when the practice is most critical. It’s those tough days that solidify the habit and train your brain to find the light in the darkness. After my stroke, I have found gratitude for simple things at the surface that I overlooked because I was always moving so quickly. Now that movement triggers my head pain, I stop and smell the roses more often. It’s kind of a synchronicity, don’t you think?
- Humility: Humility was initially mistaken for defeat in my eyes. I wish I had understood earlier that it’s sign of acceptance, willingness, and strength. Embracing humility has been pivotal for my emotional sobriety and professional growth. It’s taught me grace and helped me to accept my imperfections. When I start feeling jealous or envious, I now recognize it as a signal to reflect and work on myself, not others.
- Acceptance: For me, acceptance meant stripping away the layers of lies I was telling myself and the masks I was wearing. Accepting my alcoholism and later, my disability post-stroke, meant starting the grieving process for what I lost and accepting the irrevocable changes to my life. I’m still navigating through acceptance, learning to live with my disability without assigning blame or asking, “why me?” My only recourse is to close my eyes and pray for acceptance.
- Vulnerability: Fear and anxiety controlled my life for 42 years. I felt trapped by these emotions, and in sobriety found courage to lean in and embrace them. In the past, my instinct was to hide, shrink, and get smaller when I felt fear and anxiety creeping in. I wanted to escape from those uncomfortable feelings. But now, I’ve learned to do the opposite. I’ve trained myself through exposure that I am capable and brave. Courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to act in spite of it.
- Discomfort: This is the culmination of all the others. Embracing discomfort began with learning to do everyday tasks sober, which was initially a constant state of discomfort given my history. Gradually, I progressed to facing social situations, like holidays and weddings, without drinking. Now, at the first hint of discomfort, I dive in with cautious enthusiasm, seeking out challenges like public speaking and welcoming them as opportunities for growth.
I hope that by sharing these principles they may offer guidance to others so that they don’t have to learn the hard way like I have.
You are a person of great influence. If you could inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be?
If I could inspire a movement that would bring a significant amount of good to many people, it would be the “SHARE Movement.” This movement would focus on fostering deeper understanding, compassion, and support within communities worldwide.
Support, Healing, Awareness, Resilience, Empathy
This acronym encapsulates the key principles of the movement:
- Support: Encouraging and helping each other through community.
- Healing: Promoting emotional and psychological recovery through shared stories and empathy.
- Awareness: Increasing recognition of our role in each other’s lives as coexisting human beings.
- Resilience: Developing strength to overcome challenges with collective empathy and support.
- Empathy: Fostering mutual understanding as our movement’s core.
The core principle of this movement would be to encourage individuals to actively listen and empathize with each other’s experiences and perspectives, regardless of their background or beliefs. It would promote the idea that everyone has a story worth hearing and that by sharing our stories and truly listening to one another, we can break down barriers, reduce prejudices, and build stronger, more compassionate communities.
As done in sobriety fellowships, SHARE would implement community storytelling forums where people from diverse backgrounds can share their experiences and challenges in a safe, supportive environment. This would help build understanding of our shared humanity.
We are very blessed that some very prominent names in Business, VC funding, Sports, and Entertainment read this column. Is there a person in the world, or in the US with whom you would love to have a private breakfast or lunch with, and why? He or she might just see this if we tag them. 🙂
I put considerable thought into this question. While the allure of dining with a rockstar like Eddie Vedder is tempting — a suggestion that my friend enthusiastically supports if she can come along — it’s Brené Brown’s work that resonates with me on the deepest level. Her insights into vulnerability and resilience were introduced to me in detox and intensive outpatient therapy and strengthened my resolve to stay sober in the early years.
Before my disability and throughout the best years of my career, I had that favorite quote of hers mounted on my white board, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.” Emerging from a constant state of anxiety, this quote taught me that vulnerability is a tool and that I’m not unique. Vulnerability is a cue that growth is underway.
I would love to collaborate with Brené Brown to provide stroke survivors with exceptional support by combining her expertise with my personal journey towards mental health, sobriety, and stroke recovery. Through collaborative storytelling, we could educate the public and shift perspectives on vulnerability, resilience, and the mental well-being of stroke survivors.
I envision a podcast where Brené and I unpack these topics. Each episode could highlight different recovery aspects, blending Brené’s research with stories from myself and others. We could use my Recovery Daily Podcast, as a launching pad, potentially expanding to other platforms for broader reach.
Brené’s extensive network could help us arrange workshops with healthcare professionals for stroke survivors, incorporating activities like yoga, mindfulness, and creative expression. These sessions would be guided by Brené’s methodologies, fostering an environment that celebrates courage and resilience.
I would be thrilled to co-create a series of guides, toolkits, and online resources that blend practical advice with emotional and psychological support for stroke survivors. These could serve as the foundation of a global campaign to raise awareness about the mental health challenges and triumphs of stroke survivors, promoting empathy, understanding, support, and empowerment through vulnerability.
By marrying Brené Brown’s expertise with my lived experience and advocacy, this collaboration could offer a myriad of support for stroke survivors, elevating them to a new chapter in their lives.
How can our readers further follow your work online?
The Recovery Daily Podcast is a daily dose of inspiration and support for individuals in recovery from alcoholism, stroke, and mental health challenges. The podcast offers a vast library of episodes, each addressing different aspects of recovery, personal growth, and holistic health. The episodes can be accessed through my website, recoverydailypodcast.com, and are available on popular podcast platforms, including Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, Amazon Music and many more.
You can also find me on social media:
I like to encourage folks to reach out to me via the Contact form on my website or by email rachel@recoverydailypodcast.com.
Thank you so much for sharing these important insights. We wish you continued success and good health!
Rachel Miller Of Recovery Daily Podcast: Second Chapters; How I Reinvented Myself In The Second… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.