Chapter 1: A Cozy Family Dinner

T and Colleen welcome us into their charming home, painted in warm shades of yellow. Colleen has a knack for creating a nurturing environment, something our mother could never provide for us. It's a contrast of lives, separated by more than a decade, and perhaps T will excel in partnership more than I did.

Despite the laughter filling the room, I sense that Sunshine, with her kind demeanor, feels off—there's a weariness about her that the others don’t seem to notice.

After we enjoy a hearty pot roast and vegetables, T instinctively starts cleaning up, and I pitch in. As I turn on the faucet for hot water, I express my gratitude. “Thanks for having us,” I say, genuinely feeling it.

“You seem well,” T observes, his tone hinting at hope. It’s a statement rather than a question, suggesting he truly believes in my progress.

“Thirty days clean feels good,” I reply.

“Has it been tough?” he asks.

Reflecting on the challenges of letting go and feeling invisible in a crowded room, I respond, “Sometimes.” From the other room, Sunshine’s soft voice breaks through as she chats with Colleen about baby cribs. “Sunshine helps,” I add.

“Loving people is what life is all about,” he says while drying a dish. “Let yourself be happy this time.”

His words trigger a bitter feeling in my gut, reminding me that our family's struggles often rest on my shoulders. It's a burden I rarely discuss.

I nod, trying to brush off the heaviness. However, the temptation to retreat into my old habits beckons, whispering that “just this once” could be harmless.

I shake off the urge, washing dishes while pretending everything is normal.

It’s been forty-seven and a half days since I last felt invisible. Yet, I crave excitement, battling the relentless monotony of daily life. I can't help but wonder if others feel this way too.

Sunshine and I sit in her cozy apartment, where she’s sorting through her collections of notes and trinkets. She doesn’t explain her intentions; she simply asks for items, and I hand them over, focusing on her movements rather than my own thoughts.

The idea of budget-friendly Christmas gifts crosses my mind, but I’m indifferent. I’m just trying to concentrate on her, to distract myself.

My brother's voice echoes in my head: “She’s good for you. Don’t let her slip away.”

I glance at her—her strawberry hair, freckles, and that charming crooked smile. I remember the night before our first bank heist when we shared our first kiss. My friends thought I was exploring college life; little did they know I was in love with both her and the thrill of our lifestyle. When she left, I succumbed to what was expected of me.

Suddenly, the urge to vanish returns, tempting me with the idea of silencing all my emotions with a single breath.

Though Sunshine is unaware of my internal struggle, she seems to feel it as she pauses from wrapping a small gift. Before she can speak, I impulsively lean in and kiss her. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I cradle her face, feeling present for just a moment.

But then, she pulls back, a frown forming on her freckled face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“We shouldn’t do this. Not yet,” she replies.

Embarrassed, I brush it off. “It was a mistake. I acted on impulse.”

“Slow down,” she urges.

I resist the notion. “I understand recovery. It’s not about replacing one addiction with another.”

“Remember that day after the meeting when you asked what magic I was giving up?” she reminds me.

“You said life.”

“I’m facing terminal cancer, and it’s going to take more than just my sight. You need to think carefully about where this is heading.”

I retreat, wrapping my arms around my legs as if they could shield me.

“On some level, you knew Cassie. You had to have,” she says, gesturing to her belongings. “What did you think this was?”

I glance between Sunshine and Bell, her service dog, who seems to understand.

“Cassie,” I whisper.

Sunshine’s words feel distant, and I struggle to comprehend the weight of her reality. She will be gone, and I’m left here, stuck in the same cycle. No, I can’t let that happen.

I stand up, echoing the words she once said to me: “I need to go buy smokes.” I exit the apartment before she can respond, feeling myself fade away, completely.

Chapter 2: A Journey of Reflection

Throughout this emotional rollercoaster, many moments can lead us to reconsider our choices.

The first video titled “We Kind of Fell Off the Wagon” explores the challenges of maintaining sobriety and the impact of relationships on addiction recovery.

The second video, “KETO Restart After the Falling OFF the Wagon (7 Steps),” provides practical steps for regaining control after setbacks in lifestyle changes.