Part 3 — Life After Rehab: Learning to Live Again
Brad ScrivenShare
(Week 3 of 4 — The Road to 2500 Days)
Most people think that walking out of rehab is the finish line.
For me, it felt more like a beginning I wasn’t fully prepared for.
Rehab had structure, routine, guidance.
But stepping back into my home and into my life was where everything I’d learned was going to be tested.
Walking Back Into a Life I Didn’t Recognise
The first time I arrived home after rehab, an uneasy feeling washed over me. Nervousness, apprehension, something I couldn’t quite explain. It felt like crossing a threshold into a past life I wasn’t ready to face.
When I opened the door, I understood why.
The last time I had been in that house, I was “Drunk Brad.”
And the house remembered that version of me.
Then I saw it the drink I’d poured before passing out in the early hours of my last day. Still on the kitchen bench. Still sticky. Actually fused to the surface by the sugars that had dried while I was in rehab.
Time had paused exactly where I’d left it.
My body reacted instantly. I started sweating that familiar morning sweat my body used to produce while trying to flush alcohol out. Only this time, there was no alcohol in my system. It was muscle memory. Neural pathways firing. My brain and body performing a routine that didn’t apply anymore.
It was surreal.
Confronting.
And a reminder that sobriety doesn’t begin in rehab, it begins when you walk back into the environment where your old life lived.
Cleaning the Space, Clearing the Future
Almost instinctively, I started cleaning.
I removed every bottle, every glass, every item that reminded me of alcohol. I didn’t plan it. No one told me to do it. But it was a critical moment, a test I didn’t know was waiting for me.
If I hesitated, even slightly, things could have gone very differently.
Cleaning my space was symbolic.
But it was also survival.
It was me saying:
“I’m not going back. Not today.”
And that one decision became the foundation for many more.
The Silence After the Storm
When the house was finally clear, something unexpected filled the room.
Silence.
Not the usual quiet but a deeper silence I hadn’t heard in years. The kind that makes you aware of everything you used alcohol to hide from.
It made me realise how loud my drinking had been:
Loud in habit.
Loud in chaos.
Loud in the way it consumed every thought and decision.
Now everything was sharp, colours, sounds, emotions.
It was both clarity and confrontation.
Rehab gives you tools.
But real life demands application.
Huge difference.
Meeting Myself for the First Time
Life after rehab wasn’t instantly freeing.
In many ways, it was the first time I was forced to sit with the person I had been avoiding.
I had to learn how to:
- Feel emotions without numbing them
- Make decisions with a clear mind
- Sit with discomfort instead of escaping it
- Recognise triggers
- Trust myself again
There was grief in it, too.
Letting go of your old identity even a destructive one is still a form of loss.
But after the grief came curiosity.
A genuine wondering:
Who am I without alcohol?
What do I actually enjoy?
What calms me?
What energises me?
What does a real morning feel like?
Those questions became part of my healing.
Old Patterns, New Decisions
My brain didn’t immediately reset just because I wanted it to. The old pathways were still there.
Finish work?
Craving.
Feel stressed?
Craving.
Feel bored or empty?
Craving.
Walk past the same spot I used to drink?
Craving.
Not weakness — conditioning.
Years of repetition doesn’t disappear overnight.
So I adopted the only philosophy that made sense to me:
One day at a time.
One decision at a time.
One moment at a time.
I didn’t promise I would never drink again.
That was too big, too overwhelming.
But I could promise:
I won’t drink today.
That was manageable.
And that’s how new patterns formed.
Rebuilding Trust - With Myself First
One of the hardest parts of recovery was realising how many promises I had broken to myself over the years.
“This is the last drink.”
“I don’t need help.”
“I can control this.”
“I’ll stop tomorrow.”
It wasn’t other people I struggled to convince, it was me.
Sobriety became the slow, steady process of earning back my own trust.
Through small routines:
Waking up early.
Cooking properly.
Maintaining a clean environment.
Keeping commitments.
Showing up honestly.
These weren’t chores.
They were evidence.
Evidence that I was changing.
Evidence that I could rely on myself again.
The First Glimmers of Freedom
After the initial shock and the rebuilding phase, small things started to shift.
Waking without panic.
Saying no without fear.
Choosing differently without effort.
Feeling emotions without collapse.
Seeing life without the haze.
They were tiny moments but they were powerful.
Moments that told me:
“You’re getting your life back.”
Not all at once.
Not dramatically.
But piece by piece.
Setting Up Part 4 - Sobriety in a Loud World
Life at home was one challenge.
But another test was waiting for me — a much louder one:
The music scene.
Late nights.
Bars.
Crowds.
People celebrating with drinks.
And me, a musician standing in the middle of it all.
Part 4 is where I share what it was really like to stay sober in an alcohol-fuelled world, how I rebuilt my confidence on stage, and the daily mindset that carried me through the environments that once fuelled my addiction.
Part 4 - “Sobriety in a Loud World: A Musician’s Guide to Staying True”
comes next.
I you haven't seen Parts 1 or 2 you can do so via the links below: -