Before It Had a Name
Nothing was wrong yet.
That’s the easiest lie to remember.
It was just a shift—
sleep a little lighter,
thoughts a little louder,
a need for something
I couldn’t quite name.
I still showed up.
Still laughed
at the right moments.
Still said I’m fine
like it meant something.
There were signs,
but they didn’t look like warnings.
Just habits forming—
staying out longer,
talking a bit too fast,
saying things
I wouldn’t usually say
and calling it confidence.
I told myself
this is just a phase.
Everyone has something.
This is manageable.
That word—
manageable—
I held onto it
like proof
I was still in control.
But control doesn’t leave all at once.
It loosens quietly,
thread by thread,
until you don’t notice
what’s missing.
Looking back,
it wasn’t sudden.
It was permission.
Small ones,
stacking up
until there was nothing left
to stop me.
And even then,
if you’d asked—
I would’ve said
nothing was wrong.
Sally Denning is an Exeter University graduate writing from lived experience of addiction and recovery. My work is grounded in honesty, accountability, and the realities of change. @salbolovescoffee