If you’ve spent any time in recovery rooms, you’ve probably heard the phrase:
“You gotta change your people, places, and things.”
When I first heard that, I rolled my eyes.
Sure, I thought. I’ll just throw my whole life in the trash and start from scratch. No big deal.
But the longer I’ve stayed sober, the more I’ve realized:
we don’t change people, places, and things because we’re better than them.
We change them because we’re finally trying to stay alive.
This isn’t about punishment.
It’s about survival.
And more than that—it’s about freedom.
What “People, Places, and Things” Really Mean Means
In addiction, our life slowly builds itself around one thing: the drink, the pill, the hit, the behavior.
Our people often revolve around who we use with or who co-signs our chaos.
Our places revolve around where we get it, hide it, or recover from it.
Our things are the habits, routines, and objects that silently pull us back to that old life.
Changing those isn’t a slogan.
It’s a serious strategy.
It means asking honestly:
Who pulls me toward relapse? Where do I always end up in trouble? What keeps my brain stuck in the old loop?
And then being brave enough to start doing something different, one step at a time.
People: Loving From a Distance (If You Have To)
Let’s start with the hardest one.
There are people we truly love who are not safe for our recovery right now.
That doesn’t mean they’re evil. It doesn’t mean you don’t care. It just means this:
“Every time I’m around you, I want to use again. And I’m not willing to die for your approval anymore.”
In early recovery especially, this can mean:
Cutting off contacts who always have something on them Letting go of the “party friends” who disappear when you’re sober Stepping back from family members who constantly trigger you or minimize your struggle Blocking numbers that blow up your phone at 2 a.m. with “just one more” invitations
You might feel guilty.
You might feel selfish.
You might hear, “Oh, you think you’re better than us now?”
But here’s the truth:
You’re not saying, “I’m better than you.”
You’re saying, “I’m finally trying to be better for me.”
Healthy people will eventually respect that. Unhealthy people will be offended by it. That tells you everything you need to know.
Places: Your Feet Can’t Go Where Your Sobriety Can’t Survive
Certain places are basically landmines for someone in recovery.
You know your own:
That bar where “just one drink” turned into three days That bedroom where you always got high That friend’s house where there’s always a bottle on the table That side of town where every corner has a memory attached
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is not show up.
In recovery, your “safe places” might need to change to:
Meetings Church Support groups Coffee shops instead of bars Parks, trails, or just your own clean living room
If you walk into a place and your body instantly tightens, your cravings start screaming, and your brain starts bargaining?
That’s not weakness.
That’s your warning system saying, “We’ve almost died here before.”
Listen to it.
Things: The Small Stuff That Isn’t Small At All
“Things” can sound vague, but in recovery, they matter.
Things can be:
Old playlists that make you miss your using days That one hoodie you always wore drunk or high Phone numbers, text threads, and Snapchat streaks Social media pages that keep your old life alive TV shows, movies, or triggers you always used to watch while using Even certain smells, routines, or times of day (like 5 p.m. “I deserve a drink” hour)
You don’t have to live scared of everything.
But in early recovery especially, it helps to clear out anything that pulls your brain back into fantasy:
“Maybe it wasn’t that bad.”
“I kind of miss it.”
“I can probably handle it now.”
No.
If it almost killed you, your brain will lie to you about it later. That’s what addiction does.
So yes, delete numbers.
Yes, block contacts.
Yes, throw away the stash spots, the hidden bottles, the pipe, the foil, the whatever.
You are not throwing away your “freedom.”
You are throwing away your chains.
But What About Loneliness?
Here’s the part people don’t talk about enough:
When you change your people, places, and things…
there’s a stretch of road that feels really, really empty.
You might feel:
Bored Lonely Left out Confused about who you even are now Grieving the life you barely survived
That’s normal. That’s not proof you’re doing it wrong.
That’s proof you’re in between lives: the old one that almost killed you and the new one that hasn’t fully formed yet.
This is where support becomes everything:
Meetings (AA, NA, Celebrate Recovery, SMART, whatever works) Therapy Church or faith community if that helps you Sober friends who get it Texting someone in recovery instead of the old dealer or drinking buddy
You’re not meant to build a new life alone. Recovery is a team sport.
How to Start Changing People, Places, and Things (Without Overwhelming Yourself)
You don’t have to burn your whole life down in one day.
Try this:
1. Make a trigger list
On paper or in your phone, write:
3–5 people that make you want to use 3–5 places that are dangerous for you 3–5 things (objects, habits, songs, shows, etc.) that pull you backward
Be honest. This list isn’t for anyone else. It’s for your survival.
2. Pick one from each list
Ask yourself:
Who can I distance from starting this week? What place can I avoid or replace with a safer spot? What thing can I delete, block, throw away, or change today?
Small changes add up. Recovery is built one decision at a time.
3. Replace, don’t just remove
If you cut people, find new support.
If you avoid places, find safe ones.
If you get rid of things, create new routines.
Examples:
Instead of the bar → coffee with a friend after a meeting Instead of late-night scrolling → journal, prayer, or a nighttime routine Instead of texting the old crew → text your sponsor, a sober friend, or hit a meeting
The goal isn’t to live in a bubble.
The goal is to build a life that doesn’t constantly pull you back into destruction.
You’re Not “Starting Over” — You’re Starting Right
It’s okay to miss parts of your old life.
It’s okay to miss people who were bad for you.
It’s okay to cry, to grieve, to feel weird about building something new.
But don’t confuse grief with a sign you should go back.
You already know what’s back there.
Chaos. Regret. Shame. Hangovers. Withdrawals. Close calls.
The look in your family’s eyes when they didn’t know if you’d make it.
Changing people, places, and things is not about pretending that never happened.
It’s about saying:
“I’ve come too far to die where I almost killed myself.”
If nobody’s told you lately:
You’re not weak for needing boundaries. You’re not dramatic for protecting your peace. You’re not selfish for choosing sobriety over toxic loyalty.
You are allowed to build a life where you can breathe, heal, laugh again, and actually remember it.
One day, the people, places, and things in your life will look different—and you’ll realize:
“This is why I let go. Not to lose everything… but to finally have something real.”
You are not alone in this.
— Josh Bridges
YOU {R} NOT ALONE YOU HAVE A VOICE! 