If you'd told me a year ago that I'd be writing something like this, I would have laughed. Not because the idea was absurd — somewhere deep down, I think I always hoped this was possible — but because I couldn't imagine being the kind of person who actually got there.
My relationship with drinking and the lifestyle that came with it was long and complicated. It wasn't always destructive — or at least, it didn't always look destructive from the outside. I could function. I could show up. I could keep things together well enough that the cracks weren't always visible.
But I knew. I always knew something wasn't right.
"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." — Ephesians 2:10
The road from partying to purpose wasn't a single dramatic moment. It was a series of smaller moments that accumulated into something I couldn't ignore anymore. A conversation that landed differently than expected. A quiet morning that felt more peaceful than any night out ever had. A growing sense that I was made for something more than what I was settling for.
Purpose doesn't mean having everything figured out. I don't. But it means moving in a direction — toward something instead of away from something. Toward the life God designed instead of away from the pain I was numbing.
The party was never going to give me what I was looking for there. Purpose was waiting somewhere else entirely. And the road to find it started with a single, terrifying, life-changing step of honesty.
If you're still at the party but something in you is restless — that restlessness is a gift. Don't ignore it.