As I just celebrated six months of sobriety, I wanted to pause and reflect on this journey using a framework that’s helped me process both the wins and the struggles: Rose, Thorn, and Bud. For those unfamiliar, it’s simple:

• Rose: The highlights and victories
• Thorn: The challenges and pain points
• Bud: The opportunities and possibilities ahead

I’ve never felt more alone than when I was in active addiction. But recovery doesn’t happen alone, and for that I am deeply thankful. Even though I still have work to do, I’ve climbed mountains since getting sober—both literally and figuratively. I’ve done things I couldn’t have done alone, and especially not while my life was consumed by alcohol.

The roses: what’s blooming

Clarity returned

After that trip to Stanley Hot Springs, something clicked. I remembered who I really was. I had clarity, and I wanted more of it. That wilderness adventure became a turning point—a moment when I realized I belong in wild places and that my sense of adventure wasn’t lost, just buried under years of substance use.

A sober partnership

Shortly after Stanley, Lawrence and I started dating exclusively. Having a sober partner who gets it has been incredible. Together we celebrated my first sober holiday season since I was a teenager. I used to use alcohol to cope with and get through the stress and celebrations of the holidays, but I didn’t need that anymore. No more hangovers, no more drunk regrets. Just presence.

Being the mom I want to be

One of my biggest motivations for staying sober is being a better mom. How could I do that while drinking? What kind of example was I setting for my kids? Some days I struggled and wanted to drink, but I stayed sober. It’s so nice to remember every moment together with my kids and family now.

Summiting Scotchman’s Peak

In September 2025, Lawrence and I decided to tackle Scotchman’s Peak—a notoriously difficult 8.3-mile hike with 3,700 feet of elevation gain. My friend Meagan was joining us, and we were all excited. It was a bucket list item, and definitely not for the faint of heart.

The morning started as complete chaos. I woke at 5 AM eager to start, but my childcare plans fell apart last minute. Thanks to a friend who came to the rescue, I figured out a backup plan, but it set us back almost two hours. Lawrence and I were both stressed and grumpy as we headed out.

We stopped in Sandpoint at Winter Ridge for breakfast and trail snacks, bringing our dog Freddy along. While we were inside, Freddy managed to escape from the back of Lawrence’s Subaru to the backseat, nearly crushing his camera bag. I thought, “Could this morning get any more stressful?!” Everything seemed to be going wrong.

Still, we pushed on to Clark Fork, losing cell service as expected. We finally made it to the trailhead nearly two hours late. Our friends had already started up without us—which I was glad about. Before we started, Lawrence and I made a pact to leave the stressful morning behind and just enjoy the hike.

I’d hiked this trail once before while I wasn’t sober, so I was eager for a new perspective. We hustled up, hoping to catch my friends at the top. About three-quarters of the way up, I suddenly felt sick—lightheaded, blurry vision, like I might pass out. I told Lawrence I didn’t think I could make it further.

We stopped, I had water and dark chocolate, and almost immediately felt better. We continued, and shortly after, we ran into our friends coming down from the summit! We chatted briefly, then pushed to the top.

The summit. This is why we came. Incredible, breathtaking views and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. It was all worth it—the chaotic morning, the stress, everything became insignificant in that moment.

The lesson: Don’t stop short of your destination. Sometimes distractions get in the way, but the more we push through, the stronger we become—both mentally and physically.

A fresh start

Two months into sobriety, my roommates and I got notice that we had to move out of our rental. With help from loved ones and by the grace of God, I found a place of our own. A place for the boys and me to have our own space again. This felt like the fresh start we needed.

Spiritual growth

Through this journey, I’ve relied heavily on my higher power. Jesus has carried me through, and my relationship with Him has begun to grow. I no longer carry the guilt and burden of my mistakes and past. It’s such a relief to have that weight lifted off my shoulders.

Rediscovering running (and breathing)

I’ve fallen in love with running again, thanks to Lawrence, who’s an avid runner. When I first began running, I really didn’t enjoy it. But like sobriety, I’ve learned to embrace it all—even running stairs, which led me to quit smoking. Now I can breathe better, which makes me a better runner. Sure, I have days where I don’t “feel” like running, but I do it anyway. I’m always better for it, and I’ve never regretted doing so.

Finding my support system

I’ve found AA meetings to be extremely helpful. Recently, I even found a sponsor to help me work the steps. This journey is not meant to be walked alone, and having that community support has been invaluable. I’ve also started therapy again, and the power of that cannot be overstated.

Volunteering and giving back

I’ve had opportunities to volunteer with the Spokane Fatherhood Initiative, and serving others has been incredibly rewarding. It’s shown me that my struggles can become strengths that help others.

Rediscovering writing

I’ve remembered how much I truly enjoy writing. It’s like reuniting with a long-lost friend. Even after all these years, the love of writing never left—it was just buried deep inside my heart. It has taken the clarity of sobriety to rediscover it.

The thorns: what still hurts

Let me be clear: things have not been perfect since getting sober. But I’m able to handle issues in a much healthier and more productive way now.

The cravings still come

There are still times when I want to drink or smoke. The urges don’t just disappear because you’ve made a decision to get sober. This is where my support system—AA meetings, my sponsor, my inner circle—becomes critical.

Financial strain

Having to move was extremely difficult and really stretched my finances. Even though it was a fresh start, the financial pressure has been real. Add to that being a realtor in a tough market, and the stress can be overwhelming at times.

Single mom challenges

Juggling single mom life, my real estate career, and co-parenting my boys is an ongoing challenge. Their dad and I don’t always see things the same way. One of my boys has special needs, and sharing custody has been extremely trying. However, I’ve been able to deal with these things with the support of my inner circle instead of using.

Learning to sit with feelings

I’m learning to be comfortable in my own skin and sometimes just sit with my feelings instead of trying to hide from them by using substances. This is harder than it sounds. For years, I used alcohol to numb discomfort. Now I have to actually feel everything, and that’s not always pleasant.

The buds: what’s growing

Running Bloomsday

I’m planning to run Bloomsday with Lawrence this year. It’s something I never thought I would do. But I have a new sense of confidence and self-worth now. I’m realizing what I really want and deserve in life.

Continued growth and service

I’m looking forward to continued growth and more opportunities to serve others. I’m excited about expanding my volunteer work with the Spokane Fatherhood Initiative and finding other ways to give back to the recovery community.

New opportunities

The clarity of sobriety has opened doors I didn’t even know existed. I’m excited to see where this journey takes me—in business, in personal relationships, and in discovering new parts of myself. I know there are new opportunities waiting. I will do this one day at a time.

Writing more

Now that I’ve rediscovered my love of writing, I want to do more of it. Sharing my story might help someone else find their way, and that makes every word worth it.

Present parenting

With more clarity in my life, I’ve been able to identify my blessings and areas of improvement. Being more present with my kids is at the top of that list. I want to be the best version of myself for them, and sobriety is giving me that chance.

Living one day at a time

Every day, I wake up and find something to be grateful for. This really helps set the tone for my day. I try not to stress about tomorrow because we may only have today. This has put things in perspective for me. My recovery journey motto is simple: one day at a time.

Having Lawrence in my life has been refreshing. When we met, I was already considering a sober lifestyle. I was tired of being sick and tired. Law gave me the push and encouragement I needed to get and stay sober. I am forever grateful for his presence and influence in my life. I love you, Lawrence!

Law and I have been on several adventures over the last six months—Stanley Hot Springs, Scotchman’s Peak, the San Juan Islands—each bringing us closer together and helping me remember how strong I really am.

My hope with this reflection is to encourage and inspire others. Recovery isn’t linear, it isn’t perfect, and it’s definitely not easy. But it’s worth it. Six months in, I’m grateful for every rose I’ve experienced, every thorn I’ve overcome, and every bud of possibility that’s beginning to bloom.

If you’re considering sobriety or you’re early in your journey, know this: you don’t have to do it alone. Find your people, embrace your roses, learn from your thorns, and keep your eyes on those buds. They’re there, even when you can’t see them yet.

One day at a time.

About the Author: Erika Solberg

Erika Solberg is a licensed real estate agent with The Agency Coeur d’Alene, serving North Idaho and Eastern Washington since 2019. She began her recovery journey in July 2025 and spends her time outside of work exploring the Northwest’s wilderness with her boys, training for races, and volunteering with the Spokane Fatherhood Initiative. Erika believes that finding your dream home and finding your authentic self both require courage, persistence, and accepting help along the way.

<p>The post Six months sober: my rose, thorn, and bud reflection first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>

We arrived at the trailhead around 5pm with our backpacks filled to the brim for two nights of backpacking and camping at Stanley Hot Springs. My pack weighed 35-40 pounds. The hike into Stanley was going to be roughly 6 miles and mostly uphill.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into, yet I was eager for the adventure and a chance to spend quality time with Lawrence. Looking up at those towering trees and breathing in the clean mountain air, I felt this rush of excitement. I work out regularly and consider myself in good shape, so I was confident my body could handle whatever this trail threw at me.

The Climb Begins

We began our trek up the trail at approximately 5:30pm. Almost immediately, I started to regret my uncomfortable pack and how heavy it was. I questioned whether I really needed all that stuff. Still, I carried on with some encouragement from Lawrence and the promise of hot springs waiting for us.

The views opening up behind us were incredible though. Every time we stopped to catch our breath, I’d turn around and stare at the valleys spreading out below us. “This is amazing,” I kept telling Lawrence. Despite the heavy pack and the burning in my legs, I couldn’t get over how beautiful this place was.

I was sweaty and hot, and we had to take several breaks along the way. I had no idea it was going to be so challenging, but honestly, I was kind of loving it too. This trail really took it out of me, but there was something about pushing my body like this that felt incredible.

Finally, at about 5 miles in, I began to feel like I couldn’t continue hiking. My pack was hurting my neck and back—it was just too heavy. My feet and knees felt like they were going to give out. Yet we carried on because Lawrence was convinced we were almost there.

The Wrong Turn

With chocolate and water in hand, we continued. At about the 5-mile mark, we passed a fork in the road. At this point, we should only have about one mile left to the hot springs. I felt a sense of relief and thought, “Okay, I can do this. We’re almost there.”

Even though we had no map or GPS to guide us, Lawrence had been here before, so surely he knew the way. We were completely off the grid with no phone service.

We took a left at the fork. The trail continued uphill through forest and rock slides. We trudged through the mud with excitement, ready to finally get to the springs and camp for the next couple of days. It was starting to get dark, and we should have come to a river crossing that signals you’re almost at the springs.

Finally, we arrived at a place up high but still near water. Lawrence looked at me and said, “We have hiked seven and a half miles. I think I fucked up and we took a wrong turn.”

My heart sank, but honestly? Part of me started laughing. “Are you serious right now?” I said. “Seven and a half miles? Lawrence, we just hiked seven and a half miles!”

The sun was setting. It was getting darker and colder. “What are we going to do?” I asked. I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I was also kind of amazed at what my body had just accomplished. I wanted to cry, but I was also proud of how far we’d come.

The Man on the Mule

Lawrence suggested we take a break, make some food, and come up with a plan. As he cooked noodles, he said I could leave my pack there and we could backtrack to find the hot springs. He was considering running back for it after I was safely in camp. At this point, it was hard to walk, let alone with a 40-pound pack on my back.

This wasn’t what we had planned at all. It was approximately 8:30 p.m., and we should have been relaxing in the hot springs by now. As we discussed our options while eating noodles, a man riding a mule—with another in tow—came down the trail.

I couldn’t help but laugh again. “Of course, there’s a guy on a mule!” I said to Lawrence. “Because this day needed to get even more interesting!”

Lawrence asked him if he knew where the springs were from there. “Yes, you missed your turn at that first fork in the road,” he said, then continued his way with his mules.

That turn we missed was the fork in the road. We took a left when we should have taken a right. The wrong turn was miles back down the trail. At this point, I was struggling to keep my composure. I suggested to Lawrence we should set up camp nearby for the night and try again in the morning. I didn’t see how I was going to make it back that far.

The Push Forward

Lawrence looked at me and said, “Your brain is trying to convince you that your body is shutting down. You are strong and capable. Don’t let your mind convince you otherwise. We are not staying here. We need to get to the hot springs tonight.”

I still felt like I might pass out from exhaustion. Lawrence said, “You’re amazing. You already hiked seven and a half miles uphill with that ridiculous pack on. You can do this.”

He was right. I had just done something I’d never done before. My body was tired, but it wasn’t broken. Knowing I’d already hiked that far made me feel pretty badass.

“I fucked up, so I’m going to carry your pack the rest of the way,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief. “You’re crazy. How are you going to do that?”

Lawrence picked up my pack along with his own and started moving down the trail. I carried one canvas bag with some food in it and suddenly felt like I could fly. Without that weight on my back, I had so much more energy than I’d thought possible.

Before I knew it, Lawrence seemed to be practically running down the trail. Before long, I began to feel sweaty and nauseous. I called for him to stop for a moment. I threw down my grocery bag, knelt, and began to vomit and cry at the same time.

But you know what? Even in that moment, I felt strong. This wasn’t failure—this was what it looked like to push past every limit I thought I had.

The Final Push

After what must have been 10 p.m., we made it back to the fork in the road—the wrong turn that had taken us three miles off course. At this point, we knew we were almost there, so we hustled down the hill to the river crossing as quickly as possible.

We both managed to soak our boots in the creek, and I almost lost our bag of food. When I caught it at the last second, I held it up like a trophy. “Still got it!” I shouted, and Lawrence’s laughter echoed through the canyon.

We persevered. Once we crossed the creek in our now sopping wet boots, completely out of breath, we charged up the hill—the last hill before the springs. It was still about half a mile up, though it seemed longer.

But then, suddenly, we were there. It was dark and almost 11 p.m. Even with headlamps on, it was hard to see. I must say I had never felt more exhausted in my life, but I’d also never felt more accomplished. We quickly set up our tent and hopped in the hot springs.

What I Discovered

The sense of relief that came over me is hard to put into words. I was both relieved and amazed that Lawrence had somehow managed to carry both of our packs for more than three miles. There was a sense of awe and admiration for this man. I was so thankful that we made it to our destination. I was also grateful that Lawrence didn’t let me give up or stay lost in the forest.

But more than that, I realized something important about myself. I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was. Not just physically—though hiking over 12 miles with a heavy pack proved I could handle way more than I gave myself credit for. But mentally too. When everything went wrong, I didn’t fall apart. I found humor in the chaos. I kept going even when I wanted to quit.

Sometimes, we have to push past the discomfort and pain to get to our destination. It’s okay to have help getting there. You’ll be amazed at what you can do once you push beyond your comfort zone. Had it not been for Lawrence’s strength and words of encouragement, I probably wouldn’t have made it to the springs that night.

And I also wouldn’t have discovered that I belong in wild places, that my body is capable of incredible things, and that I can find joy even in the most challenging moments. When we got lost, I laughed. When faced with more miles than expected, I marveled at the beautiful wilderness around us. When my body reached its limits, I found out it had more to give.

You just never know the positive impact your words and example can have on someone. I realized that I’m stronger than I thought. When I felt like giving up, I kept going, one step at a time. Three weeks into my recovery journey, that night at Stanley taught me I was ready for whatever came next.

About the Author

Erika Solberg is a licensed real estate agent serving North Idaho since 2019. Originally from Southern California, Erika moved to Idaho in 2011 and fell in love with the Northwest’s natural beauty. With over 8 years of experience in the real estate industry, she specializes as both a buyer’s and seller’s agent throughout communities including Coeur d’Alene, Post Falls, Hayden, Sandpoint, Rathdrum, and Spirit Lake.

When she’s not helping families find their perfect Idaho home, you can find Erika exploring the state’s incredible wilderness areas with her kids and family. She began her recovery journey in July 2025 and is passionate about sharing stories of growth, resilience, and authentic connection. Erika believes that both finding your dream home and finding your authentic self require courage, perseverance, and the willingness to see beauty even in unexpected detours.

Erika brings the same determination to real estate that she brings to her personal adventures—never giving up, always finding the joy in the journey, and supporting others through their most important transitions.

Connect with Erika for your North Idaho real estate needs through The Agency Coeur d’Alene.

<p>The post Finding Strength Beyond My Limits: A Journey Beyond and to Stanley Hot Springs first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>

The timeless wisdom of “Desiderata” resonates deeply with those of us on the recovery journey, particularly in times of profound change and challenge. Just as I wrote yesterday about transforming fear into freedom and finding serenity amid political uncertainty, Max Ehrmann’s 1927 prose poem offers a gentle reminder that peace and strength can be found even in life’s most turbulent moments.

A close friend first shared this piece with me in 2017, during the darkest period of my life. While incarcerated, I committed the poem to memory, reciting it quietly each morning in my cell. Yet despite knowing the words by heart, I failed to capture their essence—to truly live them—upon my release. It would take another six years before I could fully embrace and genuinely live the ideals contained within. Each day, I still strive to embody these principles, and in times of distress, I find myself returning to these words for guidance.

Like the “Day Zero” mindset I discussed in my post, “Desiderata” speaks to the daily renewal of spirit and purpose. Written by Max Ehrmann, a lawyer and philosopher from Terre Haute, Indiana, this meditation on living gracefully amid life’s complexities mirrors many core recovery principles – acceptance, surrender, and the quiet cultivation of character through conscious choices.

The poem’s opening line, “Go placidly amid the noise and haste,” particularly echoes our recovery journey’s call to maintain emotional sobriety and inner peace, even when the world around us seems chaotic. Just as I’ve found that nearly a decade of recovery has transformed my response to political events from fear to acceptance, “Desiderata” offers timeless guidance for navigating life’s challenges with dignity and grace.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

— Max Ehrmann, 1927

<p>The post Desiderata by Max Ehrmann: “Go placidly amid the noise and haste” first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>

In life, people are often measured by their worst moments, especially when those moments are for all to see online. In order to truly understand someone, we need to look beyond a single, shadowed moment to see the arc of their journey. Lawrence Long’s story is a powerful example of this arc. He isn’t defined by a dark time in his past but by the self-reflection, growth, and service that followed.

A Journey of Transformation

Since Lawrence began taking steps to rebuild his life, I’ve had the privilege of witnessing his dedication firsthand. He’s not only moved beyond the struggles of his past but has built a future grounded in sobriety, introspection, service, and meaningful relationships. His commitment to change goes beyond becoming a better father; it’s about becoming a better man.

Lawrence has proven that even in our darkest moments, we have the power to choose strength and commitment. His journey of self-awareness and growth is a powerful example to others who may feel defined by a misstep. He’s shown that real strength is in how we rebuild.

-Jennifer Loree Byrd

He’s invested years in developing emotional resilience and self-awareness, working to understand the patterns that led him down destructive paths. This deeper work, supported by friends, professionals, and community, has transformed him into someone who faces challenges with purpose and strength.

A Loving and Present Father

With nearly 30 years of experience working with children as a coach, teacher, and ropes course facilitator, I’ve seen countless parent-child dynamics, and witnessing Lawrence rebuild his relationship with Julian and Major was uplifting. When his sons visited my home in 2020, his love for them was tangible. They reconnected over art, outdoor adventures, silliness, and quiet conversations that deepened their bond after the years apart.

Despite the challenges of reestablishing a relationship over a short time, Lawrence’s commitment to his sons has only strengthened. Unfortunately, Ms. Long has chosen to keep the boys separated from him since 2020. I only hope he has that chance to reconnect with them again and be an integral part of their lives in their adolescent years.

Protection and Progress

As a mother myself, I deeply understand the instinct to protect one’s child. We make countless decisions with their health and well-being as our guide. In Ms. Long’s case, her choice to cut communication was, I believe, driven by a genuine concern for her sons’ safety, based on Lawrence’s past struggles.

However, while she acted out of caution, I’ve had the privilege of observing Lawrence’s journey firsthand and witnessing the steady, meaningful changes he’s made. Unlike Ms. Long, who knew only the man he once was, I’ve seen his growth in real time. I set boundaries but remained present, watching as Lawrence approached each misstep as an opportunity to learn, showing courage and resilience through the process.

Where some might anticipate the worst, I have come to see a man who has grown into a positive, steady force in his community. 

A Broader Dedication  to Fatherhood

Despite his inability to parent at this time, he’s extended this commitment to fatherhood as part of a team with the Spokane Fatherhood Initiative, where they mentor and train other men in healthy parenting strategies.

Through this role, Lawrence has helped raise funds, developed infrastructure, co-facilitated classes, and built a new class that helps fathers develop healthier relationships in mind, body, and spirit. This has given him opportunities to lead by example and be vulnerable by sharing his own journey.

A Positive Influence and Role Model

Lawrence’s impact reaches beyond his sons and SpoFI—he also became a vital influence in my son Trey’s life. As an adopted child himself, Lawrence understood the nuances of loss and identity and used his experiences to mentor Trey. Lawrence made a deliberate choice to be a stable, supportive figure in his life, teaching him the importance of self-reflection and maturity. Through his actions, he showed Trey that one’s true character is shaped not by isolated mistakes but by the choices we make to move forward.

More Than a Mistake: A Man Committed to Change

Lawrence’s journey isn’t about erasing a mistake or denying a dark time; it’s about proving that a single ugly period in one’s life doesn’t define a person. For those who only saw Lawrence at a difficult time, it’s easy to let that chapter define him. But those who know him now see that difficult period as a single sentence within the arc of his journey.

Lawrence has proven that even in our darkest moments, we have the power to choose strength and commitment. His journey of self-awareness and growth is a powerful example to others who may feel defined by a misstep. 

He’s shown that real strength is in how we rebuild.

About the Author: This personal account was written by a long-time educator and child development professional with nearly 30 years of experience working with families in the Spokane area. Jen Loree Byrd and Lawrence were partners and remain good friends.

Lawrence Long continues his work with the Spokane Fatherhood Initiative and Reclaim Project Recovery, helping other fathers build healthy relationships with their children through education, mentoring, and support programs.

<p>The post Beyond a Dark Time – Embracing the Growth of Lawrence Long, a Man Who Chose Change first appeared on nEveresting Recovery.</p>