Good morning! Without further ado: I’m pleased to share that the winner of the SELF MADE reader survey raffle is Mikki O! Mikki, I’ll email you today to setup your coaching session with me 🥳
Many thanks again to all of you who filled out the survey. A decent amount of you replied that the cost of a paid subscription is higher than you’re able to pay. Though I stand by the value of the offerings 😎, I also understand I’m competing with hundreds, if not thousands, of extraordinary Substack newsletters that are charging far less than $30/month.
So, as a thank you for your time and readership, I’m offering a 30-day free trial into our SELF MADE membership:
I’d be honored if you checked us out!
Also: If money is sincerely a barrier, and you’d like to join, please reach out. I’d be happy to make something work 💫
All my love,
Dani
💥 Events 💥
LOCAL EVENT: Join us Sunday, April 23rd from 1-4pm PST in San Francisco’s Dolores Park for our second annual SELF MADE Spring Social. For more information and to register, click here. All are welcome!
VIRTUAL EVENT: April Writing Workshop is Sunday, 4/30, from 10am-12pm PST. Workshops feature two writing prompts, and a (zero-obligation) option to read aloud and receive non-critical feedback. This workshop is appropriate for all levels. For more information and to register, click here.
INTERNATIONAL (!) EVENT: Dream come true alert: SELF MADE presents With Pleasure! —a seven-day alcohol-free retreat in Tuscany happening this October 7-14. I’ve partnered with Carol Sicbaldi, founder of Carol’s Moveable Feast, with the intention that you reclaim joy and pleasure, relish in your five senses, and soak in the richness of your surroundings. To learn more and make a deposit, click here.
❓Questions? Ask. I’m here and I’d love to hear from you.

Yesterday was the three year anniversary of beginning this newsletter. Three years ago this week, San Francisco was two-and-a-half weeks into our first shelter-in-place order, that halcyon blip in early pandemic time when we thought if we just hunkered down we could “stop the spread,” we could get back to our “normal” lives, the worst of the worst in the rearview mirror already.
I’m not going to wax on about the early days of COVID and the subsequent impacts; there’s plenty of articles and essays and think-pieces floating around already and honestly I think it will be many more years before we truly understand what was lost, how it changed us all, and honestly honestly every time I try to read one of those aforementioned pieces of writing, there’s a kind of inner recoil. I’m not ready, I don’t need to be reminded of what it was like, maybe ever. I was there. I know you were too.
Instead I’m reflecting on what this space has meant for me these three years. For one, I have never been so committed to anything. Aside from a minimal amount of travel, and a three week period in 2021 when I went on hiatus and this space changed from “Slow Motion Sober” to “SELF MADE,” I haven’t missed a week. And in retrospect I see this persistence as another gift of recovery, which is to say, the gift of my own discipleship. I was lost and searching for a way out for a long time. And so to sit here today and know myself as someone who shows up—for myself, for others, for life—and not only shows up, but shows up reliably; who has connected to a sense of meaning and purpose that keeps me steady no matter how weird and hard life is; who moves through life from a foundation of devotion rather than lack, well. This is what I always longed for.
Sometimes I catch myself wishing that the road didn’t have to be so dark and circuitous. There were years where I’d lay my head down at the end of the day and pray pray pray for a straighter trajectory, literally visualizing a straight shot forward into a bright horizon. I don’t harbor those fantasies anymore, because I know now that my wandering arrived me to where I am now, and yes, I’m living a life that feels good more often than shitty, but also—after operating from a baseline of neglect for the majority of my adult life—not a day that goes by that I don’t connect to what a fucking miracle it is to get to be alive today.
Recovery gave me access to a new life. But you know what else did? Returning to—committing forever to—my writing.
Here’s some of your survey feedback:
“I’ve been recovery curious for 4 years. I love the quality of your writing and you have a keen eye for what matters. Brave writing. It inspired me to keep quitting and to keep recovering ❤️🩹”
“I love your writing style! The way you explore a topic it’s so real, raw and so relatable!”
“I love love love your writing. It is intelligent, honest and digs deep.”
“As someone with a few years of recovery under my belt I had been dealing with a big “what now?” feeling and was looking for further guidance or at least some more perspective on what long term sobriety can look like.”
“I absolutely adore the weekly posts. They are beautifully written, insightful, and very relevant to my life and situation as a person 2 years sober but still working through recovery, and what that means to me.”
“I like hearing about the joy and possibility people find in their lives in sobriety.”
Thank you, as ever, for your readership; for your friendship and kindness; for every comment, every time you click on the little “heart” button, every email response. I am unspeakably grateful.
In my practice, recovery and creativity are two currents of the same river, powerful forces that meander, fall, swirl, and collect. I have learned that these are trustworthy forces. I can give myself over to the current. I can experience surrender every day, and wake up anew every morning.
The last thing I want to say: None of this would have been possible if I hadn’t found my people. I could not have done any of this on my own—or if I did, it would have been so much harder (and this shit is hard enough!), and probably would have taken infinity more years than it did.
I can’t give you a timeline for transformation. Change—doing the work of creating a life that feels good more often than bad—takes as long as it takes, which is always, always, longer than we want it to take or think it should take or think it’s taking for that person over there. Finding your people is the release valve on the pressure cooker of changing your life (I just crossed my fingers that that metaphor didn’t have you click unsubscribe 🫣). It helps to be reminded, every single day, that you are not alone. It helps to say the hardest, darkest, most disgusting, shameful things out loud and be met with care and love and forgiveness. It helps to laugh at the fucking absurdity of <gestures wildly> this. It helps to learn from each other, to borrow and share and be generous and to receive. It helps to fall in love with these people, to see that despite their struggles, they are also the most beautiful people you’ve ever met. It helps to consider that you might also be so beautiful.
But you can’t take it from me. You have to get into the river.
Click the button for a 30-day free trial into our SELF MADE membership.
I’d be honored if you checked us out. If you have questions…you know I’m here.
SELF MADE is a rebellious recovery community that empowers you to liberate yourself from societal programming and boldly step into a life of your design. Posts are written by me, Dani Cirignano, founder, writer, Integral coach, and recovery guide based in San Francisco, CA.
I have three spots open for 1:1 coaching. Click here to learn about working with me. Or just go ahead and book an “Alignment Session” and we can chat.
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Thank you.