If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be writing a blog about prayer, I probably would’ve laughed—or rolled my eyes. I believed in God, sure, but I treated Him more like a last-resort hotline than a Father who wanted to walk with me every day.

Now, prayer is woven into my daily life. It’s how I start my mornings, how I calm myself when my mind starts racing, how I end my day when the weight of everything feels heavy. And going to church with my mom has become one of the biggest blessings in my life. It’s wild how much can change when you stop keeping God at arm’s length and actually let Him in.

I’m not a pastor or a Bible scholar. I’m just a guy in recovery, trying to stay sober, manage my mental health, and keep taking the next right step. Prayer has been one of the biggest tools God has used to help me do that.

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Prayer Isn’t Fancy—It’s Honest

For a long time, I thought prayer had to sound a certain way. Big words. Perfect sentences. No doubts, no questions—just clean, polished faith.

But my prayers don’t look like that.

Some days my prayer is as simple as,

“God, I’m struggling. Please help me not pick up a drink.”

Other days it’s,

“Thank You for another day sober. Thank You for my mom. Thank You for a little bit of peace in my mind today.”

Prayer isn’t a performance. It’s not about impressing God; it’s about inviting Him into what’s real.

When I finally started being honest with God—about my cravings, my anger, my shame, my exhaustion—something shifted. I stopped trying to “fix” myself first and then come to Him. I started coming as I was and letting Him work on me from the inside out.

How Prayer Helps Me in Daily Life

In the morning.
Before the day really starts, I try to pause and say, “God, please guide my steps today. Help me stay sober. Help me stay kind. Help me keep my eyes on You.” It sets my focus. Instead of waking up in panic mode, I give the day back to Him.

When my thoughts get loud.
With PTSD, depression, ADHD, and everything else going on upstairs, my mind can get chaotic fast. Prayer has become like hitting a reset button.
“Lord, I’m spinning. Help me slow down. Help me breathe.”
It doesn’t magically fix everything, but it grounds me and reminds me I don’t have to handle it alone.

When I’m tempted.
Recovery is real work. There are days where the old life calls my name. On those days, prayer is my lifeline:
“God, I want to escape. I want to numb out. I need You more than I need that drink.”
And sometimes I have to pray that more than once. Sometimes a hundred times. But each prayer is a step away from my old life and a step toward the new one.

When I’m grateful.
Prayer isn’t just for emergencies. It’s also for the small wins and quiet blessings: a good conversation, a laugh, a peaceful night of sleep, a hug from my mom. Saying “Thank You, God” has trained my heart to look for what’s good instead of only what’s broken.

Before I go to sleep.
At night, I try to hand the day back to God.
“Lord, thank You for getting me through today. Forgive me for where I fell short. Help me rest.”
There’s something comforting about knowing I can close my eyes and the world doesn’t depend on me holding it together. He’s still God, even while I sleep.

Going to Church with My Mom: A Blessing I Didn’t See Coming

One of the sweetest parts of this season of my life is sitting in church next to my mom.

We don’t always agree on everything. We’re both human. We’ve had our rough seasons. But there’s something powerful about worshiping God in the same row, singing the same songs, hearing the same sermons, and then being able to talk about them later.

Church with my mom has been a blessing because:

• It’s time together that’s about more than just small talk. We’re sharing something eternal, something that anchors both of us.
• It gives us common ground. Even when our opinions differ in other areas, we can come back to what we’re learning about God, grace, and mercy.
• It reminds me that God is working in my family, not just in me. Watching my mom worship, pray, and grow in her faith encourages my own.

Some Sundays, I show up tired, distracted, or weighed down. But I leave feeling lighter. Not because my problems disappeared, but because I’m reminded I’m not carrying them alone.

How My Life Has Changed Since Getting Closer to God

Has my life become perfect since I got closer to God? No. I still struggle. I still have bad days. I still mess up.

But here’s what has changed:

• I don’t feel as alone anymore.
  Even in my hardest moments, I know God is near. Prayer reminds me of that over and over again.
• My recovery feels stronger.
  Sobriety isn’t just about willpower for me. It’s about surrender. Giving my cravings, my pain, my past to God instead of stuffing it all down or trying to escape.
• I have more peace inside.
  Not every day. Not every minute. But more than I used to. And that peace doesn’t come from me “having it all together.” It comes from trusting that God is with me, even when I don’t.
• I see purpose in my pain.
  My story—my struggles, my addiction, my mental health battles—doesn’t feel pointless anymore. God is using it to help others, to encourage people who feel alone, and to remind them that there is still hope.
• My relationships are slowly healing.
  As God softens my heart, He’s teaching me to forgive, to apologize, to listen, and to love better—in my family, with my friends, and in my recovery community.

Prayer Isn’t Magic—But It’s Powerful

Prayer doesn’t mean I get everything I ask for. It doesn’t mean life stops being hard. What it does mean is this:

• I don’t walk through the hard things alone.
• I have Someone to talk to who never gets tired of listening.
• I can bring all my mess—every craving, every mistake, every fear—and still be loved.

If you’re reading this and you feel far from God, I get it. I’ve been there. You don’t have to know the perfect words. You don’t have to clean yourself up first. Just start with something simple, something real:

“God, I don’t even know where to start. But I’m here. Please help me.”

That’s a prayer. And that might just be the beginning of everything changing.

One day at a time. One prayer at a time. That’s how God has been rebuilding my life.

—Joshua Bridges