"It's All About the Delivery"

Has anyone ever given you a golf tip?

You know the moment. You're on the range or standing over a shot and someone who is, let's be honest, a little better and a little more polished at this game than you are, walks over and says something like, "Hey, on your takeaway, have you tried keeping your lead arm a little straighter and initiating the rotation from your hips instead of your hands?" And you're standing there like, sure, let me just rewire my entire muscular system real quick.

Or maybe they catch you chipping and say, "Have you thought about opening the face a touch and letting the bounce do the work? You're kind of scooping at it." Thanks. I've been scooping at it for 30 years. I've grown attached to the scoop. The scoop and I have a relationship.

Or my personal favorite, the putting advice. "You know, if you adjusted your putter face angle by about 1.5 degrees at address, accounted for the stimp reading on these greens, and made sure your stroke arc matches the toe hang of your putter, you'd probably make more of those five footers." Cool. I was just trying to get it close to the hole, but now I need an engineering degree.

Here's the thing though. Whether or not I actually listen to any of that isn't really about the tip itself. The tip might be brilliant. The insight might be exactly what I need. But if it's delivered like a lecture from someone who wants to show me how much they know? I'm tuning out before they finish the sentence. It's all about the delivery. When someone shares what they've learned from the game, not from a place of "look how great I am" but from a genuine place of wanting what's best for you? That changes everything. You lean in. You listen. You try it.

Last night I had the humbling opportunity to be the evening speaker at Hazelden.

Let me say that again, because I'm still processing it. I spoke at Hazelden. The place that saved my life. The place where I sat in those same seats not that long ago, wondering if I was too far gone, wondering if any of it was going to work, wondering if there was a version of me on the other side of all of this that I could actually be proud of.

And there I was. Standing in front of a room full of people who are right where I was. Sharing my story. Not because I've got it all figured out. I absolutely do not. But because our stories, they're the same. The details might be a little different. The substance might be different. The circumstances that brought us there might look different on paper. But in recovery, all of us are in a space where we're taking a step to become the version of ourselves that we were created to be.

As I shared my story, I saw tears. A lot of them. And honestly, it almost stopped me in my tracks. Not because I was saying anything particularly polished or profound. I think it had nothing to do with how good of a communicator I am. I think it was about being the most vulnerable and honest version of myself I could be. Trusting them with where I've been. Not holding back the ugly parts. Not packaging it up nice and neat. Just telling the truth and hoping it might bring them a little ray of hope that it's going to be ok.

And that's the tie in. Just like golf tips, sharing your story in recovery isn't about showing people how far you've come so you can take a bow. It's about giving back. It's about sharing your experience, strength, and hope from a place where you genuinely want what's best for the person sitting across from you. When the delivery comes from that place, people lean in. They listen. They let it land.

Sharing the steps I take every day, following the path of recovery one day at a time, that was equally a gift to me as it hopefully was to them. Maybe even more.

Here's a snippet of the blessing I left them with:

“You are going to have days where nothing goes right. Where the conversation you needed to have goes sideways. Where you sit in the parking lot a little longer than you planned because walking inside felt like too much. You're going to have days where you say "everything's fine" when it clearly isn't fine inside of you. You're going to have days where you wonder if any of this is actually working.

Keep going.

Because on the other side of this, there is a version of you that loves the person in the mirror. There are relationships waiting to be rebuilt. There is laughter you haven't laughed yet. There are people you haven't met yet who are going to look you in the eyes and say "I'm with you."

You don't have to have it all figured out. Nobody here does. You just have to keep showing up. One day at a time. One step at a time.

Not perfect, but good.”

One Story. One Swing. One Gathering at a Time.