"The Manuscript" from TTPD
At Swift Steps, we use lyrics and songs to reflect on our own experiences with addiction, mental health, and recovery—both mine and our members.
This week's song struck a chord with many of us, leading to some amazing discussions and insights. I want to assure you that I will never share what our members discuss because of our confidentiality promises.
However, I do gather my own thoughts before the meetings, and I’m excited to share them with you each week!
“I want to assure you that I will never share what our members discuss because of our confidentiality promises.“
This week’s song is "The Manuscript” from TTPD.
If you wanna take a listen:
The Manuscript: Reflection of My Life is a story of revisiting the past to understand the present—a journey of peeling back the layers of pain, love, loss, and resilience. Much like flipping through an old book, I’ve found myself rereading chapters of my life that I thought I’d closed long ago. These chapters are messy, complicated, and sometimes painful, but they’re also filled with lessons that shaped who I am today.
This reflection isn’t about regret or self-pity—it’s about understanding. It’s about seeing how addiction, trauma, and love wove together to bring me to this moment. Through these pages, I’ve learned that the past doesn’t define me, but it does have something to teach me. And now, it’s time to move forward, pen in hand, ready to write a new story.
“Through these pages, I’ve learned that the past doesn’t define me, but it does have something to teach me. And now, it’s time to move forward, pen in hand, ready to write a new story.”
Verse 1
"Now and then she rereads the manuscript / Of the entire torrid affair"
Sometimes, I look back on everything like flipping through a book I’ve already read but still don’t fully understand. The past feels messy, complicated, and painful to revisit, but if I don’t look back, how will I figure out how I got here?
For years, I survived one chapter at a time. Stepdads, boyfriends, and even friends who were supposed to love me hurt me. Then I met Jack, and for the first time, I saw what real love could look like. But even good relationships can’t escape the damage addiction does. My addiction became the story instead of us.
Now, I look back at everything—Jack, the people before him, and my choices after—trying to make sense of it all.
“But even good relationships can’t escape the damage addiction does. ”
Verse 2
"They compared their licenses / He said, 'I’m not a donor but I’d give you my heart if you needed it'"
Men like this were a pattern before Jack—smooth talkers with lines meant to make me feel special. I fell for it because I didn’t know what real love was. They didn’t want me; they wanted control. Jack was different. He wasn’t trying to charm me. He just loved me, plain and simple.
For the first time, I felt safe. I married him because I thought I’d finally escaped the chaos of my life. But it didn’t take long for my addiction to show up and start undoing everything.
Chorus
"She rolled her eyes and said, 'You’re a professional' / He said, 'No, just a good samaritan'"
Jack never played the hero. He loved me for me, even when I was falling apart. But addiction changes everything.
Before Jack, I was surrounded by people who acted like they were saving me—stepdads who made me feel like I owed them, boyfriends who thought they were doing me a favor by sticking around. Jack wasn’t like that, but I carried that baggage into our marriage anyway.
“But addiction changes everything.”
"He said that if the sex was half as good as the conversation was / Soon they’d be pushin’ strollers / But soon it was over"
This isn’t about Jack, but it reminds me of the fleeting connections I had after him. I sought validation in other people, chasing something I didn’t fully understand. Jack and I had built a life together, but by the end, I had an affair and lied to him about it. I thought I could hide it, but the distance between us grew, and we couldn’t even have a conversation without everything falling apart.
When it was over, I convinced myself that leaving was the only way to fix what was broken, but that’s not how healing works. I just couldn’t and didn’t want to stay anymore. Walking away felt like the only choice I had left, even though it broke both of us in different ways.
Verse 3
"In the age of him, she wished she was thirty / And made coffee every morning in a French press"
“Deep down, I was still that girl who didn’t know who she was outside of other people’s expectations.”
In the early years of my marriage, I was trying to be the person I thought I should be—mature, responsible, and put together. I cooked dinner every night, played the part, and convinced myself I’d finally arrived. But deep down, I was still that girl who didn’t know who she was outside of other people’s expectations.
Verse 4
"Afterwards she only ate kids' cereal / And couldn’t sleep unless it was in her mother’s bed"
When the marriage ended, I fell apart. Leaving Jack didn’t feel like freedom—it felt like failure. I’d spent so long pouring everything into our life together that I didn’t know who I was without it. I went back to old comforts, trying to hold myself together in the only ways I knew how. By escaping into dating apps and more empty validation from men.
I see now that leaving was necessary, but it was messy and painful. I wasn’t just grieving the marriage—I was grieving the version of myself I thought I’d be and the life I thought I was going to have.
“I wasn’t just grieving the marriage—I was grieving the version of myself I thought I’d be and the life I thought I was going to have.”
Chorus
"Then she dated boys who were her own age / With dart boards on the backs of their doors"
After Jack, I went looking for connections in all the wrong places. I was distracting myself. I thought if I could just keep moving, I wouldn’t have to face the mess I’d made of my life.
Bridge
"She thought about how he said since she was so wise beyond her years / Everything had been above board / She wasn’t sure"
“Looking back, I see how much I lost by trying to live up to what others needed me to be instead of figuring out who I was and what I needed.”
People often told me I was strong or mature for my age, as if it justified everything I endured. But being called mature didn’t protect me—it made me feel like I couldn’t show weakness. It wasn’t about me being wise; it was about people excusing what wasn’t okay. Looking back, I see how much I lost by trying to live up to what others needed me to be instead of figuring out who I was and what I needed.
Outro
"And the years passed / Like scenes of a show / The professor said to write what you know"
Looking back, it all feels like a performance—the roles I played, the person I pretended to be, the stories I told myself to keep going. Writing has helped me strip all of that away. These past seven months have been about being honest—with myself, about my choices, and about the life I want to build moving forward.
"Looking backwards / Might be the only way to move forward"
This is exactly what I’ve been doing: looking back, revisiting the hard parts, and figuring out what they mean. I can’t leave the past behind, but I can learn from it. Moving forward isn’t about erasing what happened—it’s about understanding it.
"At last she knew what the agony had been for"
The pain wasn’t pointless. It taught me what love really looks like and what I deserve. It’s why I’m here now, showing up for myself and trying to build a life that is authentic to me now. It’s why I finally feel like I can move forward.
As I close this reflection, I’m reminded that “The Manuscript” is more than just a record of what I’ve endured—it’s a testament to how far I’ve come. The pain, the missteps, the triumphs—they’re all part of a larger story that has led me to this moment.
But the story doesn’t end here. The past may have brought me to this place, but it doesn’t hold the pen anymore—I do. Now, I’m stepping into a new chapter with clarity, courage, and the understanding that every part of my journey has prepared me for what’s ahead.
To anyone else flipping through their own manuscript, I hope you find the strength to honor the chapters that brought you here while looking forward to the ones you’ll write next. This is where my Part 2 begins. What will yours look like.
“To anyone else flipping through their own manuscript, I hope you find the strength to honor the chapters that brought you here while looking forward to the ones you’ll write next. ”
Feeling connected to this reflection? Join us for our next Swift Steps meeting where we explore the emotional challenges of growth, love, and recovery. Our community is here to support you.
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