https://missiondrivengoods.com/pages/twenty-percent

Twenty Percent, Kansas City, MO (2026)

02/28/2026

During my addiction, I didn’t just drink. I chose alcohol over people who loved me. Over and over again.

I chose it over late-night conversations that could have fixed things.
I chose it over showing up emotionally.
I chose it over trust.
I chose it over intimacy.
I chose it over honesty.

At the time, I told myself stories.

“They’re too demanding.”
“They don’t understand me.”
“I just need to take the edge off.”

But the truth? Alcohol was the third person in every relationship I had. And it always won.

I missed birthdays because I was hungover.
I started arguments because I was irritable or half-drunk.
I made promises I fully meant… and then broke them the next night.
I watched incredible partners slowly become exhausted trying to love someone who was emotionally unavailable and chemically dependent.

Some of the best relationships I ever had didn’t end because we weren’t compatible.
They ended because I wasn’t present. I wasn’t safe. I wasn’t consistent.

I was loyal to alcohol in a way I couldn’t be loyal to a human being.

And that’s a hard sentence to write.

Addiction doesn’t just damage your liver. It corrodes connection. It turns love into collateral damage. It makes you defend the very thing that’s destroying the people who care about you most.

I used to think I had “bad luck” in relationships.

Now I know the common denominator was me.

The painful part isn’t just that I lost good people. It’s knowing that some of them loved a version of me that only existed in flashes between binges. They saw potential. They saw goodness. They saw a future.

I kept choosing a bottle over that future.

Sobriety has forced me to sit with that truth without numbing it. And that’s not easy. There’s regret there. There’s grief. There’s humility.

But there’s also growth.

Today, I understand that love requires presence. It requires consistency. It requires emotional availability. It requires doing the uncomfortable work instead of escaping it.

I can’t go back and fix the relationships I damaged.

But I can honor them by becoming the kind of man who won’t repeat that pattern.

If you’re in addiction right now and wondering why your relationships keep crumbling, it might not be because you’re unlovable.

It might be because alcohol is sitting at the head of the table.

And if you’re someone who loved a person in addiction and felt second place to a substance… I’m sorry. Truly.

Recovery doesn’t erase the past. But it does give us the chance to stop creating new wreckage.

And sometimes that’s where real love finally has room to breathe.

02/28/2026

There were so many times I said I wanted to be sober.

I meant it… but only halfway.

I wanted the relief without the rebuilding.
I wanted the peace without the process.
I wanted my relationships healed, my mind calm, my body healthy… but I didn’t want to fully surrender to what it was going to take.

If I’m being honest, I was trying to control my recovery the same way I tried to control my drinking. I’d pick and choose what I was willing to do. I’d do just enough to quiet the chaos, but not enough to actually change my life.

And every time it fell apart, I’d blame the program. The meetings. The people. The system.

But the common denominator was me.

This last time felt different. Not because I was stronger. Not because I was less scared. It felt different because I was finally tired of living the way I was living. I was exhausted from pretending I had it handled. I was worn down from waking up disappointed in myself.

So I made a decision I had never truly made before.

I went all in.

I said yes to detox when my pride told me I shouldn’t need it.
I said yes to 30-day treatment even though it meant stepping away from my life.
I said yes to therapy.
I said yes to intensive outpatient.
I said yes to AA.
I said yes to suggestions from doctors and people who had what I wanted.

For the first time, I stopped arguing with the help.

I stopped trying to design my own shortcut. I let people guide me. I let myself be uncomfortable. I let myself be honest.

And that’s when the real change began.

Sobriety didn’t become easier overnight. But it became real. It became grounded. It became something I was building instead of something I was wishing for.

I finally understood that recovery isn’t something you dabble in. It’s something you invest in with your whole heart.

If you’re stuck in that space between wanting change and resisting the work, I see you. I was you. And there is nothing weak about asking for help. In fact, it might be the bravest thing you ever do.

If you ever need guidance, have questions, or just need someone who understands what this feels like… please reach out. You don’t have to figure it out alone.

02/27/2026

For a long time, I told myself I had crippling anxiety. 💔

My chest would tighten.
My hands would shake.
My heart would race like it was trying to outrun something I couldn’t even see.

I thought, “This is just who I am. I’m anxious. I’m wired wrong.”

What I didn’t realize was that I wasn’t anxious…

I was in withdrawal.

I was riding the roller coaster of alcohol leaving my system over and over again. Every morning felt like a crisis. Every afternoon felt edgy. Every night I drank just enough to quiet it down… only to restart the cycle the next day.

I thought alcohol was helping my anxiety.
In reality, it was creating it.

When I finally got sober, something unexpected happened. The “constant anxiety” I thought was my personality started to fade. It didn’t disappear overnight. I still have real feelings. I still get stressed. I still have human moments.

But that relentless, panicked, vibrating-under-my-skin feeling?

That was withdrawal.

No one told me alcohol can mimic mental illness. No one explained that the thing I was using to cope might actually be the match lighting the fire.

Getting sober didn’t just clear my head. It gave me clarity. It gave me truth. It gave me a chance to actually deal with real emotions instead of constantly putting out chemical fires.

If you’re stuck in that loop right now, thinking you’re broken or permanently anxious, I just want you to know this:

Sometimes it’s not who you are.
Sometimes it’s what you’re putting in your body.

And there is another way to live. ❤️

Two years ago I was exhausted, defensive, and convinced this was just my life. Today I wake up steady. Not perfect. But steady.

And steady is a gift I never knew I was allowed to have.

02/26/2026

“I hurt a lot of people during my addiction, so it’s only right that I help as many people as I can while in recovery.”

That’s not just a quote to me. That’s my life.

When I was in my addiction, I wasn’t a villain. I wasn’t evil. But I was selfish. I was sick. I broke trust. I disappointed people who loved me. I missed moments I can’t get back. I created worry in the hearts of people who should have only felt peace when they thought about me.

And that truth used to crush me.

But recovery did something unexpected. It didn’t just take away the obsession to drink. It handed me responsibility. It gave me a new assignment.

I can’t rewrite my past.
I can’t erase the damage.
But I can show up differently today.

Every dog I advocate for.
Every person I encourage in early sobriety.
Every message I answer at midnight.
Every uncomfortable conversation where I tell the truth instead of hiding.

That’s my amends in action.

Recovery, for me, isn’t about pretending the wreckage didn’t happen. It’s about building something beautiful on top of it. It’s about taking the pain I caused and turning it into purpose.

AA has been the foundation for that. It gave me tools, structure, and people who didn’t give up on me even when I probably would have given up on myself. It’s not perfect. I’m not perfect. But it saved my life.

Today I don’t wake up asking, “What can I get away with?”

I wake up asking, “Who can I help?”

And that shift has changed everything.

If you’re carrying guilt from your past, hear me: you don’t have to stay buried under it. You can use it. You can transform it. You can let it fuel something bigger than you.

We don’t repay the past by staying ashamed.
We repay it by living differently. ❤️

02/25/2026

There was a time in my life when I carried everything.

Old resentment.
Embarrassing mistakes.
The need to prove myself.
The fear that I would fail again.
The voice in my head that whispered, “You’re not enough.”

I thought holding on made me stronger. Like if I gripped it tight enough, I could control it. What I didn’t realize is that all that weight was keeping me stuck.

Recovery has taught me something simple but life changing: peace isn’t about fixing everything. It’s about loosening your grip.

I’ve had to learn to let go of the scorecard.
Let go of replaying old chapters.
Let go of trying to be flawless.
Let go of the anxiety that tries to predict a future that hasn’t even happened yet.

And maybe the hardest one…
Let go of doubting myself.

If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably been carrying more than you need to. Maybe today is the day you set one thing down. Just one.

You don’t have to release it all at once. Just start with something small. Your heart will feel the difference.

What’s one thing you’re ready to stop carrying? 💛

02/24/2026

I said the Serenity Prayer for years without really hearing it.

But when I got sober, it stopped being words on a wall and became a lifeline.

“God, grant me the serenity…”
There was a time I tried to control everything. People. Outcomes. Perception. Pain. And when I couldn’t, I spiraled. Sobriety taught me that peace doesn’t come from control. It comes from surrender.

“…the courage to change the things I can…”
Getting sober was the hardest and bravest thing I’ve ever done. No one forced me. No one could do it for me. I had to choose it. Every single day. That courage didn’t just change my drinking. It changed my life.

“…and the wisdom to know the difference.”
That line still humbles me. I can’t fix everyone. I can’t save every dog. I can’t carry the weight of the whole world. But I can show up. I can serve. I can love big. I can stay sober.

Finding purpose through animal rescue saved my life. The dogs gave me something to fight for when I didn’t want to fight for myself. And this prayer… it reminds me daily where my responsibility starts and where it ends.

Today, the Serenity Prayer isn’t something I recite.
It’s how I live.

If you’re struggling, hold on. The peace you’re looking for might start with letting go. 🤍

02/23/2026

For a long time, I confused familiarity with safety.

I stayed in routines that were slowly breaking me because they were predictable. I stayed in relationships, habits, and even in my addiction because they were known. And when something is known, it can feel comfortable… even when it’s hurting you.

There’s something powerful about familiarity. It whispers, “At least you know what to expect.”
But sometimes what you can expect is more pain. More shrinking. More settling.

When I was deep in my addiction, alcohol was familiar. It was my routine. My coping mechanism. My escape. Walking away from it felt terrifying because I didn’t know who I’d be without it. Even though I knew I deserved peace. I knew I deserved clarity. I knew I deserved more than surviving each day.

Comfort kept me stuck far longer than I’d like to admit.

The truth is, growth almost never feels familiar at first. It feels awkward. Lonely. Uncertain. It asks you to trust yourself before you have proof that things will get better.

But on the other side of that discomfort?
Freedom. Purpose. Real connection. A life that actually feels like yours.

If you’re in a season where something feels “comfortable” but deep down you know you deserve better… listen to that voice. It’s not selfish. It’s not dramatic. It’s self-respect waking up.

You are allowed to outgrow situations.
You are allowed to choose peace over familiarity.
You are allowed to build a life that matches your worth.

I’m living proof that when you step away from what’s comfortable but damaging, you don’t lose yourself.

You finally find yourself. 💛

02/22/2026

There was a version of me who was drowning quietly. Smiling in public. Numbing in private. Telling everyone “I’m fine” while slowly falling apart inside.

Back then, I needed someone who would look me in the eyes and say:
• You’re not weak.
• You’re not broken.
• You’re not alone.
• And this doesn’t have to be your ending.

I needed someone to talk about sobriety without shame.
I needed someone to talk about depression without whispering.
I needed someone to prove that asking for help isn’t failure… it’s courage.

So today, that’s who I try to be.

If you’re in the thick of it right now… the cravings, the anxiety, the exhaustion, the heaviness you can’t explain… I see you. I was you.

Recovery didn’t just give me my life back.
It gave me purpose.
It gave me clarity.
It gave me the ability to show up for others the way I wish someone had shown up for me.

That’s what 20% is about.
It’s for the ones fighting.
It’s for the ones starting over.
It’s for the ones who refuse to quit.

If you’re struggling today, stay. Reach out. Talk to someone. Comment. Message me. You don’t have to do this alone.

Be the person you needed.
And if you can’t yet… borrow my belief until you can. 💛

02/21/2026

Gratitude is my daily practice.
Sobriety is my daily gift.

When I read those words, they hit me in the chest.

There was a time when my days were built around survival. Around numbing. Around just trying to get through the noise in my own head. Gratitude was not a practice back then. It was something I thought other people were lucky enough to feel.

Then I got sober.

And slowly, quietly, life started to come back into color.

Sobriety didn’t just remove alcohol from my life. It gave me mornings I remember. Conversations I’m present for. Tears I actually feel. Joy that isn’t artificial. Purpose that isn’t forced.

It gave me the courage to step into animal rescue with my whole heart. It gave me the clarity to build businesses that give back. It gave me Leo. It gave me all of you.

Gratitude today isn’t some fluffy idea. It’s discipline. It’s choosing to focus on what I have instead of what I lack. It’s thanking God for another day when I wake up. It’s appreciating the chaos, the hard conversations, the second chances.

Sobriety is a gift I unwrap every single morning. Some days it feels light and easy. Some days it feels heavy and earned. But every single day, it’s mine.

If you’re in the middle of your own fight, please hear this: life on the other side is real. Peace is possible. Purpose is possible. You are not too far gone.

Today, I’m grateful.
Today, I’m sober.
And that is more than enough. ❤️

02/18/2026

There was a time in my life when I was just surviving.

Not thriving.
Not building.
Not leading.
Just… existing.

And when you’re in that space long enough, the days start to blur. You wake up, go through the motions, go to bed, repeat. No fire. No direction. No real reason to keep pushing forward.

What changed everything for me was finding purpose.

And I found mine in animal rescue.

When I started showing up for dogs who had been abandoned, abused, forgotten, overlooked… something shifted. These animals didn’t care about my past. They didn’t care about my mistakes. They didn’t care how lost I felt.

They just needed someone.

And in needing me… they saved me.

Purpose gave structure to my chaos.
It turned my pain into fuel.
It gave me a reason to get out of bed that had nothing to do with me.

Instead of asking, “Why am I like this?” I started asking, “How can I help this dog?”
Instead of focusing on what I had lost, I focused on what I could give.

And that changed my life.

Purpose didn’t magically fix everything. I still had hard days. I still had to do the work. But having something bigger than myself to fight for made quitting feel impossible.

When you hold a dog who has every reason not to trust humans… and they lean into you anyway… it does something to your heart.

Animal rescue didn’t just become something I do.
It became who I am.

If you’re feeling stuck or drifting right now, I promise you this: purpose is powerful medicine. It doesn’t have to be rescue. It doesn’t have to be animals. But find something bigger than you. Find someone or something that needs you.

Because sometimes the very thing you’re trying to save… ends up saving you.

Rescue cat/dog people understand. 🐾

02/17/2026

When I walked into Valley Hope of Atchison, I wasn’t walking in with confidence. I was walking in tired. Tired of the cycle. Tired of pretending. Tired of being part of the 80%. 💔

Day 1:
Fear. Ego. Withdrawal. I remember sitting in orientation thinking, “I do not belong here.” At the same time, I knew I absolutely did. My body was there, but my pride was still trying to negotiate a way out.

Week 1:

Detox and humility. The fog started to lift. I listened more than I talked. For the first time, I heard people tell my story out loud. Different names. Same wreckage.

Week 2:

Resistance turned into reflection. The walls I built for years started cracking. I began to see patterns. Excuses. Justifications. I started understanding that alcohol was not my problem. It was my solution to everything I didn’t want to feel.

Day #14
My family called to share the heartbreaking news that my father had passed away, unexpectedly. I came home immediately to be with my family. I made sure that I maintained my momentum, so I started at the Valley Hope OP location the next morning.

Week 3: Valley Hope Overland Park

Ownership. I stopped blaming circumstances and started looking at myself. I wrote letters I never sent. I had conversations that were uncomfortable but necessary. I realized sobriety was not about quitting drinking. It was about rebuilding a life.

Final Days:

Clarity. Gratitude. Resolve. I heard the statistic again. 80% relapse. 20% stay sober.
This time it didn’t sound like a warning. It sounded like a challenge.

Leaving treatment was scarier than entering it. Inpatient is a greenhouse. Real life is weather. But I left with tools, community, accountability, and something I had not had in a long time… hope.

Valley Hope did not save me.
They showed me how to save myself.

That was the beginning of choosing to become part of the 20%.

If you’re struggling right now, you are not broken. You are not weak. You are not alone. Treatment is not the end of your story. It can be the first honest chapter.

Please message me with any questions.

Forever grateful for the staff at Valley Hope ❤️

02/16/2026

This hit home for me tonight.

Sobriety is not easy. Especially in the early days when your body is detoxing and your mind is loud and your emotions feel like they’ve been turned up to full volume.

But it’s also not what people think.

It’s not just for “alcoholics.”
It’s not the end of your social life.
It’s not a sign of weakness.
It’s not boring.
It’s not something you have to explain or apologize for.

For a long time, I believed some of those lies. I thought choosing sobriety meant I was admitting defeat. I thought it meant life would get smaller.

The opposite happened.

My world got clearer.
My relationships got deeper.
My purpose got sharper.

Sobriety isn’t a limitation. It’s a superpower. It’s waking up without regret. It’s remembering conversations. It’s being fully present. It’s building a life you don’t need to escape from.

And it’s not just for people who “need” it. It’s for people who want more. More clarity. More peace. More control. More authenticity.

It’s not a destination. It’s a daily decision.

If you’re in the early stages, keep going. If you’re thinking about it, explore it. If you’re years in, I see you.

Becoming part of the 20% didn’t shrink my life. It saved it. 🖤

Twenty Percent

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