The Lonely Road: Sobriety, Grief, and the Questions That Change Us

In Episode 3 of the Mom & Co. Podcast, I shared the moment Sully asked me a question that shook me: “What would you do without me?” That question led me down what I call the lonely road—a journey of self-discovery, reflection, and healing.

In Episode 3, I invited Sully to join me in Cabo to revisit that question, what it meant for him, and how it shifted everything in our marriage, our family, and ourselves.

Sobriety Begins with a Mirror

Sully shared that his decision to quit drinking didn’t come from anyone else’s urging—it came from a moment of truth in front of the mirror. After a night of drinking, he woke up at 2 a.m., looked at himself, and said: “You can’t keep doing this. You’re going to die.”

That was the beginning of his transformation. Not because someone told him to change, but because he chose to.

It reminded me that true growth doesn’t happen when others hand us answers. It happens when we see ourselves clearly—and decide to take the next step.

Pain That Isn’t Processed Gets Passed On

Sully traced his drinking back to losing his mom at just 20 years old. Unprocessed grief had fueled years of unhealthy coping.

For me, his sobriety brought me back to my dad. I realized, only years later, that my father had also been a recovering alcoholic. I never saw him drink, but I felt the shame he carried when others reminded him of a past he didn’t want me to see.

These reflections showed me how grief and healing ripple through generations. If we don’t face what hurt us, it spills into the lives of the people we love.

Wrestling, Discipline, and “One More Block”

Sully talked about his high school wrestling days, and how discipline was built not in the big victories but in the lonely runs through freezing winter nights. When he wanted to quit, he would tell himself: “Just one more tree. One more block.”

That same principle carried me through my own challenges—walking alone in the dark, committing to 75 Hard, and choosing to keep showing up even when I felt small or scared.

Resilience isn’t about never wanting to quit—it’s about choosing one more step, one more block, one more day.

Grief, Healing, and Generational Understanding

Being in Cabo also brought me back to 2008, when we lost our daughter, Penelope. At the time, I thought a honeymoon or vacation could “fix” the ache. But grief isn’t something to fix—it’s something to honor.

For years, I carried guilt and shame about how I handled her loss. I tried to make sure everyone else was okay, while burying my own sadness. It wasn’t until I faced that truth that I began to heal.

That healing also led me back to my mom. At the time of my loss, her words hurt deeply. But with time, I’ve realized her reactions came from her own unprocessed grief—losing three sons during the Cambodian genocide. Understanding her pain gave me compassion I didn’t have before.

Healing myself allowed me to see my parents more fully—and to break the cycles of silence and shame that weighed us down.

Love That Risks Letting Go

When Sully asked me, “What would you do without me?” he wasn’t offering an answer—he was offering me a mirror. He was willing to risk that if I found myself, I might no longer need him.

That, I’ve learned, is love at its purest: wanting the other person to grow, even if it means growing apart.

Walking the Lonely Road Together

The lonely road began as a path of solitude, but it brought me closer to Sully, my children, and even my parents. It taught me that discipline, healing, and love are not about perfection—they are about persistence, reflection, and choosing each other every single day.

When we stop running from grief, when we let hard questions land, and when we take one more step forward, we find freedom on the other side.

Reflection Prompt 🌿

Think about this question:
What’s your “one more block” right now?

Maybe it’s one honest conversation.
Maybe it’s finishing a task you’ve been avoiding.
Maybe it’s allowing yourself to grieve something you’ve carried alone.

Wherever you are, your lonely road might be the very place you discover your strength.