Redefining Self-Care in Sobriety: Finding Peace in Nature
- Kellie Adams

- Aug 24
- 2 min read

In the past, when I first considered "self-care," it usually resembled pampering myself—pedicures, chocolate, and long baths with a glass (box) of wine on the edge of the tub. Luckily, I didn't drown. Back then, I believed that was the most fantastic way to relax. But once I got sober, my conception of self-care changed completely.
Sobriety motivated me to explore deeply. It wasn't enough to numb my senses with bubbles and wine—I longed for genuine serenity, the kind that kept me grounded. Over time, I discovered it in the most unassuming of places: outside.
From Indulgence to Intention
Today, I still enjoy those small luxuries, but they're not what nourishes me anymore. They've become infrequent indulgences (never the wine), not the footing of my well-being. For me, self-care isn't about indulging myself—it's about reconnection. And nothing does that for me like being in nature, especially near water.
Why Water Matters
There's something about water that resets me. The rhythm of waves, the rush of a river, the stillness of a lake—it's all naturally medicinal. Immersing myself in those sights, sounds, and scents soothes my senses in a way no salon ever could. Water has become my refuge, my sanctuary, and one of the most invigorating tools in my recovery.
Water has been part of my narrative for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I'd float face down on an inner tube in Suttons Bay, Michigan, scrutinizing the sandy bottom for Petoskey Stones I'd later polish (yes, total rock nerd). In the evenings, my dad and I would walk the beach to the marina, then head to the historic Bay Theater on charming St. Joseph Street for a bag of popcorn. Every night, I fell asleep to the sound of waves flowing in and receding from the shore. Those rhythms are imprinted on me, and even now, they remind me of peace, home, and belonging.
What Self-Care in Sobriety Really Looks Like
For me, self-care is no longer about escaping. It's about intention. It's slowing down enough to be immersed in my surroundings, to breathe sincerely, and to find connection to my higher power. Sometimes that's a tranquil walk, sometimes it's sitting by the water, and sometimes it's just allowing myself to be still in silence. Recovery has taught me that true self-care isn't a frill—it's a lifeline.
Final Take: Chasing Waterfalls Over Numbness
Sobriety has transformed my understanding of self-care. While pedicures and chocolate do bring joy, true peacefulness is far more fulfilling. Whenever I need to reset, I will always seek the pacifying embrace of water.


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