The Sober Sessions

The Sober Sessions Clean and sober since March 23, 2016. Every sunrise, a new chapter in this journey of overcoming addiction. I'm here to remind you, hope is never lost.

If you’ve got a pulse, you've got a shot at change. One step at a time, one victory after another. 💜

11/02/2025

Let me tell you something I’ve learned the hard way: one of the most powerful things you can do in life is stop trying to keep up. Stop comparing yourself to everyone else. Stop measuring your worth by someone else’s hustle, their lifestyle, their highlight reel.

I don’t do that. I don’t try to keep up. I’ve realized the moment you start chasing what everyone else is chasing, you lose yourself. You start living someone else’s story, not yours. You start dancing to someone else’s rhythm, not your own.

So I do my own thing. I stay in my own lane. I ride my own wave. It doesn’t matter if the world thinks I’m slow, if they don’t understand the steps I’m taking, or if it looks like I’m behind. Because here’s the truth: when you stay true to your own path, when you honor your own pace, you build something unshakable — something that no algorithm, no trend, no distraction can steal from you.

This isn’t about being isolated. It’s about being intentional. It’s about guarding your energy, your time, your focus. It’s about creating a life that’s yours, not a life that’s borrowed from someone else’s expectations. The moment you start running someone else’s race, you’re done before it even starts. But when you own your lane, when you ride your wave — that’s when real impact happens. That’s when real power is born.

So don’t worry about keeping up. Don’t chase the crowd. Do your thing. Stay in your lane. Ride your wave. And watch how unstoppable you become.

— j. anthony | |

May your success offend the s**t out of anyone who prayed on your downfall.Let’s talk about that for a second. Because p...
11/02/2025

May your success offend the s**t out of anyone who prayed on your downfall.

Let’s talk about that for a second. Because people love to clap for you when you’re struggling — when you’re humble, when you’re “figuring it out.” But the minute you start to rise? The minute you start walking in purpose, confidence, and peace? That applause turns into silence. That support turns into shade.

You ever notice that? How some people were cool with you when you were broken, but the moment you started healing — suddenly, you changed. No… you didn’t change. You just stopped living small to make them comfortable. You stopped lowering your energy to fit into rooms that couldn’t handle your light.

Success — real success — isn’t about the money, the status, or the likes. It’s about peace. It’s about waking up every day knowing you’re becoming everything they said you couldn’t be. It’s about staying true to yourself when the world expected you to fold. It’s about making it through the kind of nights that would’ve destroyed the old you — and still being able to love, to smile, to believe again.

See, your success isn’t meant to make everyone comfortable. It’s meant to shake the room. It’s meant to expose who was praying for you versus who was praying on you. Some people only loved you as long as you needed saving. The moment you didn’t, they had no use for you anymore. And that’s okay. That’s how you know you’re leveling up.

Because when God starts elevating you, He also starts revealing who was never meant to go with you. And that revelation? It stings. It’s lonely. But it’s necessary. You can’t carry old energy into a new season. You can’t drag people who secretly root against you into the blessing they were never ready to see you walk in.

So let them talk. Let them roll their eyes. Let them choke on their own bitterness while you build the life they never believed you could have.

And when you finally reach that mountaintop — when the view hits different and peace replaces pain — don’t apologize for it. Don’t downplay it. Don’t dim it. Look up, smile, and say, “God, we did it.”

Because that’s the real victory.
May your success be the loudest sermon you’ll ever preach — and may it offend the s**t out of everyone who thought you’d never make it this far.

— j. anthony | |

11/01/2025

I want you to sit with this for a second: the moment you lose focus, you lose the game. And I’m not just talking about your job, your money, or your social life. I’m talking about the game of your life — your purpose, your destiny, the very reason God put you here. Everything hinges on focus. Nothing else matters as much.

Focus is the game. Whoever focuses the longest, the deepest, the hardest — they win. Whoever protects focus like it’s sacred — they win. Everything else is noise. Distractions. Opinions. Drama. Chaos. Life will throw it at you from every angle. Friends, family, social media, haters, temptations — all of it. And if you let it chip away at your focus, you will lose more than a day, you’ll lose yourself.

Think about it: all the talent in the world, all the resources in the world, all the “opportunities” — none of it matters without focus. Focus is what separates the dreamers from the doers. It separates those who survive from those who dominate. Focus is not optional. It’s the difference between the life you’re living and the life you were created to live.

And here’s the truth most people don’t tell you: focus is a war. It’s a constant battle. Your mind will try to wander, your flesh will try to indulge, the world will try to distract. Focus demands discipline. It demands saying no to the easy, the tempting, the immediate. It demands protecting the sacred space of your mind, your energy, your vision.

Once you master focus, everything changes. Your actions align. Your priorities sharpen. Your results multiply. Focus becomes your armor, your strategy, your superpower. The chaos around you doesn’t disappear — but it doesn’t matter anymore. You move forward anyway. You win anyway.

So I ask you today: how serious are you about winning your game? How hard are you willing to fight for the clarity, the discipline, the relentless drive to keep your focus unbroken? Because when you master focus, when you guard it, when you live it… nothing, and I mean nothing, can stop you.

— j. anthony | |

I’m lowkey healing from things I don’t talk about.That line hits different when you’ve lived through some things that wo...
11/01/2025

I’m lowkey healing from things I don’t talk about.

That line hits different when you’ve lived through some things that words can’t quite capture. Because healing isn’t always loud. It isn’t always pretty. Sometimes it looks like silence. Like distance. Like disappearing for a while so you can actually face the pain you’ve been avoiding for years.

We love to talk about the glow-up, the success story, the comeback. But what about the quiet chapters? The ones where you’re sitting in your car at night after holding it together all day — just trying to breathe through the weight sitting on your chest. The ones where you tell people you’re “fine” because you don’t have the energy to explain the storm going on inside you.

That’s the kind of healing nobody posts about. The kind that doesn’t come with applause or validation. The kind where you’re forgiving people who never said sorry, making peace with moments you wish never happened, and trying to unlearn the chaos you once called normal.

Sometimes the hardest part of healing is realizing how long you’ve been in survival mode. How long you’ve been pretending strength meant silence. You can’t heal what you keep hiding — but sometimes, silence is part of healing. Because not everyone deserves access to your pain. Not everyone can hold the weight of your truth.

You learn that healing doesn’t mean you’re “fixed.” It means you’re finally being honest. Honest about the triggers, the fears, the nights you still wrestle with your thoughts. Healing means you’re no longer living in denial. You’re showing up — messy, imperfect, but real.

And here’s the truth: You don’t owe anybody an explanation for your healing process. You’re allowed to take your time. You’re allowed to not have it all figured out. You’re allowed to move in silence while you rebuild yourself.

The world tells you to “get over it.” But God whispers, grow through it. There’s a difference. One hides the wound. The other lets it scar over with strength.

So yeah… I’m lowkey healing from things I don’t talk about.
Not because I’m weak, but because I’ve finally learned the power of quiet transformation. The kind that doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone — only to become the person I was always meant to be.

— j. anthony | |

11/01/2025

Let me break something down for you — something I’ve learned the hard way, through nights of doubt, mornings of exhaustion, and years of trying to figure out why life kept hitting me the same way. If you want to survive this world and thrive in it, you have to stay heavy on your P’s.

Peace. Don’t chase drama. Don’t let noise dictate your energy. Protect the calm inside you because if you don’t, the chaos will eat you alive.

Prayer. Not the casual kind you scroll past, but the deep, raw, desperate kind. The kind where you pour out your soul and sit in silence long enough to hear the answers you’ve been running from.

Privacy. Guard yourself. Not everything is for everyone to see, and not everyone deserves access to your mind, your pain, or your progress. Sometimes the less they know, the freer you become.

Priorities. Decide what matters and cut everything else off. Your time, energy, and focus are currency — spend them wisely. Stop being pulled into every little fire. Invest in what builds you, not what drains you.

Patience. Life doesn’t move on your schedule. God doesn’t operate in rush hour. If you want results that last, you learn to wait — and to work while you wait.

Positivity. Guard your thoughts. Guard your words. Guard the energy you let into your space. Toxicity is everywhere, but your mindset — your light — is untouchable if you protect it.

Master these P’s, and you’re untouchable. You’re steady. You’re powerful. You’re not at the mercy of circumstances, opinions, or setbacks. You’re in control. You’re living on purpose.

Stay heavy on your P’s. Don’t just say it. Live it. Breathe it. Protect it. Let it define how you move through every room, every conversation, every storm.

— j. anthony | |

Judas didn’t come from the crowd.He came from the table.That one line should make you sit with your thoughts for a secon...
11/01/2025

Judas didn’t come from the crowd.
He came from the table.

That one line should make you sit with your thoughts for a second — because betrayal rarely comes from the people outside your circle. It comes from the ones you trusted enough to let sit close. The ones who knew your story, who broke bread with you, who said they had your back — until they didn’t.

See, the crowd doesn’t have the access to hurt you like that. The crowd might talk, they might judge, they might throw stones. But Judas? Judas knows where you keep the knife. Judas knows how to smile in your face while plotting your fall. And that’s why this lesson cuts so deep.

Because most of us, at some point, have been betrayed by someone we called “family.” Someone we prayed for, helped, defended, maybe even saved — only to be the one they turned on when it was convenient. That’s the kind of pain that doesn’t just bruise your trust — it cracks your faith.

But here’s what I’ve learned: God allows betrayal not to break you, but to reveal who was never built to walk with you into your next season. Some people were only meant for your table during the lesson — not your destiny.

We spend so much time trying to figure out why they did it, how they could do it, what we did wrong. But the truth is, sometimes the betrayal was the blessing. Because it cleared space. It forced growth. It reminded you to stop confusing loyalty with proximity.

Just because someone sits at your table doesn’t mean they’re meant to eat from your plate. Not everyone who claps for you wants to see you win — some just want to be close enough to catch the crumbs.

So be careful who you call “family.” Be careful who you hand access to your peace, your plans, your prayers. Some people don’t want to see you healed; they want to keep you broken so they can feel needed.

But don’t let it make you bitter. Let it make you wiser. Let it teach you discernment — the kind that listens to energy, not excuses.

Judas had to betray Jesus for the resurrection to happen. Sometimes the knife in your back is the thing that pushes you into your purpose.

So don’t cry over the table you lost. God’s already preparing a new one. And this time, not everyone gets a seat.

— j. anthony | |

11/01/2025

Just because I give you advice, it doesn’t mean I know more than you. It just means I’ve done more stupid sh*t. Let that sink in for a second.

See, we live in a world where people mistake experience for arrogance. They hear advice and think it’s someone trying to talk at them instead of to them. But truth is — most of the people offering wisdom aren’t doing it from a pedestal… they’re doing it from a place of pain. From the wreckage of their own bad decisions.

I’m not standing up here because I figured life out early. I’m here because I didn’t. Because I messed up more times than I can count. Because I learned the hard way what pride costs you — what impulsiveness costs you — what silence costs you when you’re drowning inside and too ashamed to ask for help.

When I give advice, I’m not trying to sound like a guru. I’m just trying to hand you the map I had to draw while lost. I’m trying to spare you a few of the dead ends I slammed into headfirst.

You see, wisdom doesn’t come from perfection — it comes from pain. You earn it in the trenches. In the chaos. In the nights you swore you’d never go back but did anyway. It’s the scars that make you credible, not the degrees or the titles.

I’ve done a lot of stupid sh*t. I’ve burned bridges, hurt people, chased validation, and lost everything that actually mattered in the process. And if I can stand here now, clean, healed, and focused, it’s not because I’m better — it’s because I finally learned to listen when life tried to teach me.

So when I speak, it’s not to lecture — it’s to warn. When I advise, it’s not to show off — it’s to give back. Because every time I share what I’ve learned, I’m trying to do for someone else what I wish someone had done for me: tell me the truth, even when it hurt.

So yeah — I give advice. But not because I think I’m smarter than you. I just survived more stupidity than most. And I’m still here — not to preach, but to prove that no matter how many stupid decisions you’ve made… you can still turn it around.

— j. anthony | |

All it takes is one prayer to change everything.Not ten. Not a lifetime of perfect Sunday attendance. One.One moment whe...
11/01/2025

All it takes is one prayer to change everything.

Not ten. Not a lifetime of perfect Sunday attendance. One.

One moment when you finally drop the mask and say, “God, I can’t do this anymore.” One cry from the heart that breaks through the noise and reaches Heaven. That’s where everything shifts.

We underestimate prayer because we’ve been taught to see it as ritual — something you do before bed or at the dinner table. But real prayer? Real prayer is raw. It’s ugly. It’s tears streaming down your face while you’re sitting in your car talking to God like He’s your last hope. Because in that moment, He is.

It’s not about fancy words or getting it right. It’s about surrender. It’s about that moment when your pride finally breaks and your soul takes over. That’s when Heaven listens.

And maybe it doesn’t change your situation overnight. Maybe the bills are still there. The diagnosis still stands. The person still leaves. But something changes inside you. That’s the first miracle — peace in the middle of the storm.

Because one prayer can’t always remove the pain, but it can realign your purpose. It can pull you back from the edge. It can remind you that you’re not walking through this alone.

You don’t need to have it all together to pray — that’s the whole point. God doesn’t respond to perfection; He responds to honesty. He meets you in your mess, in your confusion, in your weakness, and He breathes strength back into your lungs.

I’ve seen people on their last legs — ready to end it all — whisper a prayer that changed the entire trajectory of their lives. One prayer. One moment of surrender. One second of courage to say, “God, I need You.”

And everything — everything — started to shift.

So don’t underestimate it. Don’t overcomplicate it. You don’t need a pastor. You don’t need a pulpit. You just need a moment of truth.

Because sometimes, all it takes is one prayer to change everything.

— j. anthony | |

11/01/2025

Father, I dedicate this month to You. Every day. Every choice. Every breath.

There’s a moment in life — usually after you’ve been broken a few times — when you realize you can’t do it on your own anymore. You’ve tried. You’ve fought. You’ve forced things to work. You’ve hustled, pushed, grinded, manipulated, and exhausted yourself trying to control outcomes. And all it’s done is leave you tired… spiritually, mentally, emotionally. Empty in a way that no sleep or vacation could fix.

That’s the moment I’m talking about — the moment when surrender isn’t weakness, it’s wisdom. When you stop saying, “I got this,” and you start saying, “God, I trust You.” Because there’s power in surrender. There’s peace in letting go. There’s freedom in handing over what was never meant for you to carry alone.

See, every month, people set goals. They write down affirmations, make plans, chase numbers, and talk about “grind season.” But this time… I’m doing something different. I’m dedicating it all — every sunrise, every setback, every conversation, every breath — to something higher than myself. Because if God’s not in it, I don’t want it.

When you start dedicating your days like that, things shift. You stop chasing what’s flashy and start focusing on what’s eternal. You stop trying to force open doors and start trusting the ones that open naturally. You stop begging for signs and start recognizing His fingerprints in the smallest details.

Dedicating your month to God isn’t about religion — it’s about alignment. It’s about saying, “Use me.” Use my voice. Use my pain. Use my story. Because when your life becomes less about control and more about calling, you begin to walk differently. You speak differently. You love differently.

So, Father, this month — take it all. My plans, my pride, my fears, my expectations. I lay them down. Every decision I make, let it reflect You. Every word I speak, let it heal someone. Every breath I take, let it serve purpose.

Because at the end of the day, I don’t just want success — I want significance. I don’t just want blessings — I want alignment. I don’t just want to live — I want to live right.

Father, I dedicate this month to You. Every day. Every choice. Every breath.

— j. anthony | |

There comes a point in your life when you stop trying to take credit for things you know damn well you didn’t do on your...
11/01/2025

There comes a point in your life when you stop trying to take credit for things you know damn well you didn’t do on your own. You stop saying “I got lucky,” and start realizing — no, that was divine intervention. That was God.

It hits different when you know it was all Him.

Because you remember the nights you almost didn’t make it. You remember when your own strength gave out. When no amount of hustle, no amount of motivation, no amount of “positive mindset” could pull you out of that pit. You remember crying in silence, pretending to be okay, while everything around you was collapsing.

And then — somehow — a door opened. A call came through. A heart shifted. A way was made that shouldn’t have been possible. And you can’t explain it. You can’t logic your way through it. You just know… that was God.

It’s in those moments that your whole perspective changes. Gratitude hits deeper. Humility becomes real. You start to see that it wasn’t coincidence — it was coordination. Every detour, every delay, every heartbreak — all of it was God aligning you with something bigger than your plan.

See, when you know it was all God, you walk differently. You stop chasing validation. You stop needing people to clap for you, because you know who carried you. You stop trying to control every outcome, because you’ve seen what happens when you finally let go.

That’s not weakness. That’s trust. That’s faith.

Because faith isn’t built in the moments that make sense — it’s built in the moments that break you. It’s in the silence, the pain, the confusion, where you start to see His fingerprints all over your story.

So if you’re in a season right now where nothing adds up — stay still. Don’t rush it. Don’t panic. Because when it finally comes together, and you look back at everything you went through, you’re gonna smile through tears and whisper…

“It was all God.”

Rewrite this like a TED Talk intro. Deeper. Hard-hitting, raw and real. Lengthen. Remove the Chatgpt structure.

— j. anthony | |

Let me tell you something that most people aren’t ready to hear—not everyone who corrects you hates you. Not everyone wh...
11/01/2025

Let me tell you something that most people aren’t ready to hear—not everyone who corrects you hates you. Not everyone who challenges you is your enemy.
And not everyone who walks away from you stopped loving you.

We live in a world that’s lost its spiritual compass. Everything is surface-level. People confuse emotion for truth, validation for love, and comfort for peace. But real love—real, spiritual love—doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes it wounds your pride before it heals your soul.

Those who don’t understand spiritual matters will always misinterpret love as hate.

You ever try to tell someone the truth and they instantly get defensive? They call you judgmental, cold, or fake? That’s because when you speak from a higher place, it confronts the darkness they’ve made peace with. And when someone’s ego hasn’t been broken yet, conviction feels like an attack.

There was a time when I didn’t get that either. I used to push away anyone who told me what I didn’t want to hear. I thought they were against me—when really, they were sent to save me. But I was too blind to see it. Too full of pride to recognize that love sometimes shows up in the form of truth, not approval.

See, spiritual maturity changes how you perceive people. You stop reacting emotionally and start discerning spiritually. You begin to recognize that not every loss is punishment—it’s pruning. Not every “no” is rejection—it’s redirection. And not every confrontation is hate—it’s someone who cares enough to call you higher.

We’ve got to stop expecting real love to coddle us. Love doesn’t always hold your hand—it holds you accountable. Love doesn’t let you stay broken—it pushes you toward healing, even if that means standing alone for a while.

If you want to grow, if you want to evolve, you’ve got to learn to hear with your spirit, not your feelings. Because when your emotions lead, everything sounds like hate. But when your spirit leads, you start to recognize correction as protection.

That’s where peace begins—not in being liked, but in being led.

— j. anthony | |

There’s a point in life where you realize—your own strength isn’t enough.You’ve done everything “right.” You’ve hustled....
11/01/2025

There’s a point in life where you realize—your own strength isn’t enough.

You’ve done everything “right.” You’ve hustled. You’ve pushed. You’ve carried the weight on your back until your knees buckled. You’ve tried to control the outcome, the timing, the direction. But deep down… you know you’re running on empty.

That’s when it hits you—guidance isn’t weakness. It’s surrender.

See, the world will tell you that asking for help is soft. That prayer is just wishful thinking. That if you can’t figure it out on your own, you’re failing. But I’ll tell you what’s real failure: moving without direction. Running without purpose. Building without blueprint.

Never get tired of asking God to guide you.

Because when you stop asking, you start drifting. When you stop seeking, you start settling. And that’s when life gets loud—the noise, the pressure, the false promises. Everyone’s got an opinion, but only One has a plan.

Some of the best things that ever happened to me didn’t come from what I planned. They came from what God redirected. Doors I thought I wanted—He slammed them shut. Paths I thought were progress—He blocked them off. And at the time, I was angry. Confused. I thought He was punishing me. But looking back, He was protecting me.

Guidance isn’t about control. It’s about alignment. It’s about saying, “God, I don’t know where this road leads, but I trust You know better than I do.”

So pray again. Ask again. Seek again. Even when it feels repetitive. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’ve already asked a thousand times and nothing seems to move. Because every time you ask, you’re not begging—you’re building faith. You’re keeping your spirit humble. You’re reminding the universe that you’re not the one in charge—God is.

And when you finally get to the place He’s been guiding you toward, you’ll realize… it was worth every unanswered prayer, every reroute, every moment of silence. Because His direction was never denial—it was divine protection.

— j. anthony |

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