In my early days of recovery, people would say things like, “Take the cotton out of your ears and put it in your mouth.” I had no clue what the heck they were talking about at the time. Now I know they were basically telling me to shut up and listen. I did what they suggested, but in those early days, I’m not sure I was ready to listen. I could hear them loud and clear, but I wasn’t actually listening. It’s like when my wife asks me to pick up the dog poop in the backyard. I throw out a quick “I hear you” and go right back to watching Instagram stories, fully intending to get to it eventually. Five hours later, there she is, standing at the door, giving me that look—like, “You suck.” Turns out hearing isn’t the same as listening. Who knew?
And honestly, this isn’t exactly new behavior for me. When my kids were little, I was still active in my addiction. Back then, I was great at pretend sleeping, so my wife would have to get up and handle them. I’d hear the baby cry, but instead of listening to what that cry meant, I’d go full Academy Award mode—perfectly timed snores, deep breathing, the works. I figured I wouldn’t have to act on the sound if I didn’t acknowledge the sound. Genius, right? Wrong. On the other hand, my wife was less impressed with my method acting.
It took getting deeper into recovery to understand there’s a huge difference between hearing noise and listening to what’s being said. At meetings, I heard a lot of stories, advice, slogans like “one day at a time” or “progress, not perfection.” But those things didn’t stick until I started listening—really listening.
Hearing is easy. It’s passive. It’s the sound that grazes your eardrums and slides out the other side while you play Fortnite or decide which game to watch. Listening, though, requires effort. It means being present, setting your own thoughts aside, and letting the other person’s words really land. Whether it’s a fellow in recovery sharing something heavy or my wife reminding me to pick up dog poop before the backyard becomes a minefield, it’s about more than just hearing—it’s about showing up.
When I started working as a peer advocate, I realized how crucial this skill is. Half of the training is about listening, for God’s sake. When someone opens up to me about addiction, trauma, or the struggle to stay sober, they don’t necessarily want advice. Most of the time, they just want to be heard. There’s something transformative about knowing someone is really listening—not trying to fix or judge, just being present with you.
One of the most significant shifts in my recovery came when I was at a 12-step meeting, and a woman shared, “My husband died last night, and I’m not going to drink today.” If I had just heard her, I might’ve thought, “Wow, that’s rough,” and moved on. But I listened. I let the weight of her words hit me, rearranging something inside me. It wasn’t just a statement—it was a promise. No matter what. And that listening? It sticks.
I wish I could say I’ve become an expert listener, but my wife would tell you otherwise. Just last week, she reminded me—twice—to pick up the dog poop (yes, it’s a real issue in our house). I
heard her loud and clear. Did I listen? Not exactly. Cue me out in the dark with a paper towel and a bag, half-blind, wondering why I didn’t just do it earlier.
The difference now is that I catch myself. I’m working on it. Whether it’s with my wife, my kids, or someone I’m helping in recovery, I’m learning to stop, be present, and really listen. Because listening isn’t just about the words—it’s about honoring the person saying them. And sometimes, it means getting up in the middle of the night instead of playing possum, or grabbing the paper towels before things get… messy. No matter what.
Jason Mayo
THRIVE Everywhere | Peer Advocate