Published October 27, 2025 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD

When it comes to addiction, recovery isn’t a destination—it’s a direction. It isn’t something you achieve—it’s something you maintain. The sobering reality is that there’s no finish line where you cross your arms, look around, and say, “I made it”. Because the truth is, there is no such thing as being fully “healed” when it comes to addiction. Healing, in the truest sense, isn’t about being fixed—it’s about learning to live with the parts of ourselves that once felt unmanageable.

For anyone who’s lived through addiction—whether it’s alcohol/substances, gambling, or the compulsive pull of collecting and/or overspending—recovery is a lifelong commitment. It’s not about perfection. It’s about staying aware, staying humble, and continuing to choose recovery even when things feel calm.

The people who appear the safest from relapse are often the ones who need to be reminded the most. Sometimes it’s the ones who have spent the most time in recovery, have the most confidence and the strongest track record—who end up slipping the hardest. The moment they take their foot off the metaphorical recovery pedal, thinking they’ve got it handled, the disease inevitibly creeps back in. All it takes is one weak moment, one bad day, one trigger we thought we were past—for the cycle to reset. It’s a painful truth, but one worth repeating: no one is immune from relapse.

Even those who appear to be the strongest can stumble the moment they forget what made them strong in the first place. Staying grounded is what keeps the road ahead clear.

People coping with addiction learn to survive by any means necessary. We are inherently experts at illusion. We become skilled at bending truth, hiding pain, and justifying the very patterns destroying us. We can rationalize anything—convincing ourselves that this time will be different, that we’ve earned control back, that one harmless purchase or one small rip won’t hurt. But that’s precisely how it starts. Addiction thrives on complacency and self-deception. The lies we tell ourselves are its fuel back to chaos. And unless we stay grounded—through community, accountability, and honesty—we risk falling back into patterns we once swore we’d never revisit.

So, unless we keep putting in the work—being honest, humble, and consistent—it’s only a matter of time before those doors reopen. Even when the addictive behaviors fade, their roots remain—ready to grow back the second we stop tending to them. That’s why the work never ends. The moment we start believing we’re “cured”, we drift closer to the version of ourselves we fought so hard to escape.

Step 1 in the Collectors MD Recovery Guide captures the first act of courage on the road to recovery: We admitted that our spending or collecting had taken control of our lives in ways we couldn’t ignore. That’s quite often the hardest step because it requires brutal honesty and humility. It means acknowledging that we can’t think our way out of the problem and cracks the illusion of control wide open. But once we do—once we truly surrender and admit defeat—something shifts and denial begins to lose its power. The fog lifts. The fight feels lighter. That first act of truth becomes the foundation for everything that follows. For the first time, we stop pretending—and that’s where real peace begins to take shape.

Admitting we have a problem isn’t a one-time event—it’s a daily practice. Every day after that isn’t about mastery—it’s about maintenance. Checking in. Staying honest. Spotting the first cracks before they widen. Addiction may always be a part of our wiring, but recovery is what rewires how we live.

Recovery doesn’t guarantee perfection and safety—but rather peace and clarity. It doesn’t erase the past—it teaches us how to live with it. And that peace only lasts as long as our commitment does. The work doesn’t stop when the urges fade or the chaos simmers down. The work is what keeps it quiet. And while the work never ends, neither does the possibility of freedom.

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You don’t recover once—you recover every day. The work never ends, but neither does the peace that comes from committing yourself to it.

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Published October 26, 2025 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD

Addiction has a way of showing up like the ex who always knows when you’re finally doing better. The one you swore you were done with. The one who wrecked your peace, drained your energy, and left you swearing “never again”. And yet, somehow, when they reach out—just a text, a memory, a moment—you feel that old pull. The brain floods with nostalgia, rewriting history in real time. You forget the chaos and remember only the spark. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I can handle it now.

That’s the same lie addiction tells. Whether it’s gambling, alcohol, substances—or the hobby itself—it knows how to sound familiar, comforting, even romantic. You’ve finally found your footing, then suddenly a “new drop” flashes across your feed, an old breaker you swore off goes live, or a friend sends a link saying, “Bro, you gotta see this”. And just like that, the urge starts whispering: What’s the harm in one night? One rip? One break?

Temptation always finds a way to reach out—sometimes it looks like a text, sometimes like a new drop. The test is whether you answer.

But the truth is, going back never leads to closure—it leads to relapse. Rekindling an old flame with addiction doesn’t bring healing. It reopens the wound. That short-lived high comes with the same fallout: regret, shame, isolation, and the slow erosion of self-trust. You tell yourself it’s just this once, but deep down, you know where it leads.

The hardest part of recovery isn’t walking away—it’s staying away. It’s resisting when your mind romanticizes what nearly destroyed you. It’s realizing that nostalgia is not truth; it’s memory disguised as comfort. Just like a toxic ex, addiction doesn’t miss you—it misses control.

Each time you ignore that text, that DM, that urge—you take back a piece of your power. You remind yourself that peace isn’t found in rekindling the fire, it’s found in letting it die for good.

So when the past calls—don’t answer. Let it go to voicemail. Let the silence speak louder than your craving.

#CollectorsMD
Not every spark deserves to be reignited—sometimes healing means never going back, no matter how familiar the fire feels.

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Published October 25, 2025 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD

For many compulsive collectors trying to rewire their brains and rebuild healthier spending habits, the hardest part is often the in-between—that uncomfortable stretch between awareness and real change. The moment after you’ve promised yourself you’ll stop, or at least slow down, yet somehow find yourself back in the same cycle again.

You tell yourself, this time will be different. That you’ve learned. That you’re stronger. But then something triggers you and reels you right back in—a new release, a late-night scroll, a friend’s message about “a crazy pull”. Before you even realize what’s happening, you’re back in a Whatnot stream, thumb hovering over the bid button, the chat flying, the timer ticking down. It’s over in seconds—the rush hits, your balance drops, and that same sinking feeling sets in.

It’s the same mix of regret and disbelief. That pit in your stomach that says, “I know better. Why did I do it again?” You can see the pattern clearly now, but seeing it doesn’t stop it. You start to live in constant internal tension—trying to rebuild trust with yourself while knowing there’s always a ticking time bomb nearby, ready to detonate at any moment. One more promo email. One more “exclusive drop”. One more sudden-death auction. One more dopamine hit disguised as opportunity.

It’s a battle we all face at some point—learning how to sit with the urge instead of surrendering to it. Until we can make peace with our impulses, the devil on our shoulder will keep steering us down Hobby Highway—tempted by every flashing sign, every new release, every chance to scratch that itch. Every twist feels familiar, every curve predictable, yet we keep our foot on the gas. The challenge isn’t just fighting the urge—it’s learning how to pull over, catch your breath, and remember you’re still the one holding the keys.

The hobby doesn’t make it easy. Every week, there’s another “can’t-miss, must-buy” release, another “best rookie class ever”, another manufactured rush designed to keep you hooked. Even beyond sports cards—from Topps Chrome Disney to Marvel, Spongebob, and Labubu—the relentless wave of “hot new product” feels endless. What used to be a space for joy, discovery, and nostalgia now feels like a 24/7 digital casino—always open, always available, and no matter how far you try to step away, the lights keep pulling you back in.

For some, finding Collectors MD marks the first moment of real clarity—a chance to finally recognize the pattern, take accountability, and begin to heal. But even then, the pull doesn’t disappear overnight. The casino-like platforms know your weaknesses. The algorithms know your patterns. It’s not failure to slip; it’s proof that recovery from compulsion isn’t linear.

What matters isn’t perfection—it’s awareness. It’s catching yourself a little sooner each time, pausing before you click, forgiving yourself after the fall, and listening to what that moment is really trying to tell you.

Recovery in this hobby isn’t about quitting—it’s about quieting. The noise, the urgency, the illusion of “just one more”. It’s about learning to sit with the unease instead of escaping it. The grip of the cycle weakens the moment you stop trying to feed it—and start trying to understand.

#CollectorsMD
Healing doesn’t begin when the cycle ends—it begins when you finally see it clearly for what it is.

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know when to fold em.

Published October 23, 2025 | By Alyx E, Founder of Collectors MD

In recovery—especially when trying to practice complete abstinence—urges can feel like tidal waves, especially when everyone around you is talking about the latest product release, showing off their latest hits, or hyping how hot the hobby is. That constant energy—the buzz, the noise, the excitement—can make it feel impossible to stay grounded. You see the wave forming long before it hits, and part of you already knows what’s coming.

An urge usually starts small—a thought, a feeling, a trigger. Maybe it’s seeing a post about a record sale, a big pull, or a familiar product that once brought you that rush of elation. It might be stress, boredom, or nostalgia that cracks the door open. But once that door’s open, the tide starts to rise. The urge intensifies—sometimes gradually, sometimes suddenly—and logic starts to lose its footing. You feel it in your chest, in your hands, in the back of your mind whispering: just one more rip, one more bid, one more box.

Then comes the peak—the breaking point. It’s that sharp, desperate moment where the craving feels unbearable. You might tell yourself the only way out is to give in, that the wave won’t pass unless you ride it all the way down into the same cycle you’ve been trying to escape. But the truth—the one thing addiction never wants you to remember—is that no wave lasts forever. It will crash, it will fall, and it will fade, no matter how powerful it feels in the moment.

The cycle of an urge mirrors the movement of an ocean wave—trigger, rise, peak, fall. The goal isn’t to stop it—because that may be impossible—but to learn how to stay on the board until it breaks.

That’s what urge surfing is all about. You’re not trying to stop the wave or fight it—you’re learning to ride it out. Breathe through it. Let yourself feel the rise without surrendering to it. Observe what’s happening inside you like a storm you know will eventually clear. The goal isn’t to erase the urge—it’s to change your relationship with it. To recognize that every craving is temporary, and every time you ride one out, you strengthen your ability to stay afloat.

Still, some urges hit harder than others. Some feel like they’ll pull you under no matter what you do. When the current feels that strong—when the urge consumes your thoughts, hijacks your peace, and convinces you that you can’t resist—it’s time to reach for structure and support.

If the manufacturers, platforms, and breakers won’t create real oversight or guardrails, then you build your own.

• Use app-blocking tools like Gamban to eliminate temptation at the source.

• Lean on accountability partners, sponsors, or professionals who can step in when your resolve wavers.

• Join support groups like Collectors MD, Unboxed, or Gamblers Anonymous to connect with people who understand the rhythm of these waves.

• Explore self-exclusion if available on certain platforms.

• Have someone you trust help manage your finances—not as punishment, but as protection.

These safeguards aren’t limitations. They’re lifelines—anchors that keep you steady when the surf gets rough. Because if the devil on your shoulder has ripped the steering wheel away, it’s your job to take it back by any means necessary.

Urge surfing isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. It’s about understanding that the urge itself isn’t the problem—it’s what you do with it that matters. Every time you stay on the board instead of wiping out, you prove something powerful: that you’re capable of enduring discomfort without letting it define you.

Every wave will rise. Every wave will crash. And every time you ride one out, you get a little stronger, a little steadier, a little more at peace.

#CollectorsMD
Every wave will rise and fall—but your peace is found in how you ride it.

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