A personal note from the founder
My Story
For a long time, I didn't think I looked like someone who had a problem with drugs or alcohol.
My relationship with substances began toward the end of high school. I was spending time with older people, going to college parties, and trying to seem older myself. What started socially eventually became something more important to me: an escape.
I put enormous expectations on myself. I wanted to succeed, be liked, do everything well, and never feel lonely. Drinking and using gave me a place where those expectations temporarily disappeared. I could relax. I didn't have to think so much. And, at least for a little while, I didn't feel alone.
Eventually, the people who had known me long before substances entered my life began noticing that I wasn't acting like the person they remembered. When my longtime best friends confronted me about that change, I agreed to go to rehab. At the time, I thought I was going so I could stop being such a mess for the people I loved.
Recovery became much bigger than that.
Getting sober didn't suddenly make everything comfortable. In fact, without substances to escape into, I became much more aware of my anxiety — especially my fear of what other people thought of me. I also had to recognize some of the ways I avoided discomfort even without substances. Hard conversations are difficult for me. Humor is often my instinct when something becomes uncomfortable, but recovery has taught me that sometimes I have to stop making the joke, sit with what I'm feeling, and have the serious conversation.
Therapy, being outside, yoga, meditation, and other mindful practices have helped me learn that uncomfortable feelings don't always need to be escaped or immediately fixed. Sometimes they need to be experienced.
Why 4:59?
We've all heard “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
The phrase is so culturally familiar that we immediately understand what it means: it’s okay to have the drink. You’ve earned it. It’s been a long day. You’re celebrating. You’re stressed. You’re sad. You’re on vacation. There always seems to be a reason.
4:59 asks what happens in the minute before.
What am I feeling?
Why do I want to escape it?
And what would happen if I chose something different?
I created 4:59 for the person I was before recovery — the person who didn’t believe she fit the “profile” of someone with a substance-use problem. I thought my circumstances were different and that nobody would understand. I saw my substance use as almost secondary: I simply wasn’t equipped to cope with life, and drugs and alcohol had become one of the ways I did.
I wish someone had told me that I wasn’t uniquely beyond understanding. Other people had experienced the shame, consequences, fear, and confusion I was experiencing. I could talk about what had happened without the world ending. There was comfort waiting for me in being understood.
And, in some ways, creating it is selfish. It’s the kind of support I wanted when I wasn’t even sure what kind of help I needed. Sometimes support seems to begin only after you’ve identified yourself as having a particular problem or reached a particular point. 4:59 begins earlier. It’s a place where someone can simply ask: Is the way I’m using substances healthy? What am I getting from them? What am I trying not to feel?
As I encourage other people to ask those questions, I have to keep asking them of myself. Telling my story requires me to process it, feel the emotions attached to it, and continue doing the work that keeps me sober.
Today, sobriety often means doing the things I don’t want to do. Having the conversation. Feeling uncomfortable. Showing up. Helping someone else. Taking responsibility. Stepping forward when a situation feels impossible.
It means living differently than I did before so I can create a better future — for myself and, hopefully, for someone else too.
That’s the space I want 4:59 to create.
If you see yourself somewhere in my story, you don’t need to have everything figured out. You don’t need the perfect label. And you don’t need to wait until things become worse before you’re allowed to question your relationship with substances or ask for support.
Sometimes it starts with one minute.
It’s not five o’clock yet.
It’s 4:59.
It’s time to feel.
Face it. Feel it. Heal it.
4:59 belongs to everyone.
This initiative is designed to grow beyond any one person’s story. It’s a platform for community, for shared experience, and for the ongoing work of learning to feel — and to heal. If you have a 4:59 story of your own, we’d love to hear it.