"Hopeful to try something new, excited about possibilities, new resolve to quit."
Hey y'all,
This is the first in a series of newsletters where I'm going to walk you through what I call the 12-Week Upward Spiral of chemsex recovery—a map I created after years of working with gay men in chemsex recovery and, honestly, after living through it myself.
These phases are not backed by science; they are simply my anecdotal observations.
If you've read my original 12-Week Upward Spiral newsletter, you know the terrain. But that was the overview. Now we're going ground-level. One phase at a time. Deep enough that when you're standing in the middle of it, you'll know exactly where you are and exactly what to do.
We're starting where every recovery begins: the Honeymoon Phase.
This is the phase that will seduce you into thinking you've already won. It's the phase that feels the best and sets the most dangerous trap. And if nobody tells you what's actually happening in those first three weeks, you'll walk right into it.
The Beautiful Lie of Week One
Let's start with the truth: those first three weeks often feel amazing.
You've made the decision. Finally.
And the relief of that decision alone creates a high that rivals anything chemical.
You're done sneaking around.
You're done being traumatized by the sound of birds singing in the morning ("ParTy's over! ParTy's Over!").
You're done deleting apps and redownloading them forty-eight hours later.
You're done negotiating with yourself about whether "just one more time" is really the end.
The decision is made. And suddenly, the world looks like it's been washed clean.
You're reading recovery content. Listening to podcasts. Maybe you've found a therapist or a coach who actually understands chemsex—not some straight clinician who makes you explain what PnP means while trying not to judge you.
You're journaling for the first time since middle school.
You're texting your accountability partner at reasonable hours.
Everything feels new. Exciting. Possible.
This is the phase where you buy a gym membership, deep-clean your apartment, delete Grindr for the 47th time (but this time it's different), and maybe post something vague on Instagram about "new beginnings."
And I want you to hear me clearly: all of this is real. The hope is real. The excitement is real. The resolve is real.
But it's not permanent.
And confusing "real" with "permanent" is the first mistake that will take you down.
