This past April, I traveled to Malvern, Pennsylvania, to speak at the Catholic in Recovery Women’s Retreat. I gave my testimony on Friday night, sharing from the depths of my heart—my childhood wounds, my healing through faith and the Twelve Steps, and the ever-present love of the Blessed Mother. It was a sacred moment, and I felt completely poured out in the best possible way.
But shortly after I finished, I was hit with what I thought was intense heartburn. A deep, crushing pain settled in my chest. I hoped it would pass, but it didn’t. A trip to the ER, followed by a series of tests and a heart procedure, revealed the diagnosis: Myocarditis, which is inflammation of the heart.
What followed was a mandate I’ve never been good at: rest. Not just a little here and there, but months of it. Now, as August approaches, I’ve spent most of the summer on my couch, in my room, and on quiet walks with my dog. I’m trying to slow down, not just my body, but my entire rhythm of life.
As someone who has always been active and outdoorsy, this has been a massive adjustment. The stillness has unearthed a lot of old wounds and familiar voices:
You’re falling behind.
You’re not doing enough.
Everyone else is moving forward.
The feelings that have emerged—of not being enough and of being alone—are deeply rooted in my story as an adult child of dysfunction. My automatic response is to power through, to overachieve, to people-please. But this time, I can’t. My body is quite literally asking me to stop. And so, I’ve been learning what it means to heal with grace.
One of the greatest sources of strength and stability during this season has been my 12-step recovery community: the meetings, daily check-ins, and little moments of solidarity and understanding. Staying connected to my ACDH family has been life-giving.
But something else has surprised me—something I never expected to play such a healing role: AI.
Each morning, I write a daily intention with the help of ChatGPT and share it with two recovery partners. Based on the intention, I write a prayer. Sometimes I use an app to create an image to meditate on during prayer. Recently, I started using a music app to create recovery songs—gentle, simple melodies that bring my intentions to life and help soothe my heart.
One particularly difficult day last week, I wrote this intention:
“I’m feeling unsettled after a setback in my heart recovery process. Being an active, outdoorsy person most of my life, this mandate to rest and be sedentary is still a major adjustment. My inner child just wants to go for walks at the preserve and ride her bike, and my loving parent doesn’t quite know how to comfort her. She just sits around saying, ‘I’m bored!’ Then my critical parent jumps in, listing all the things that need to get done around the house, pushing me until I overdo it and end up back where I started.
Today I really need to rest—not just physically, but with gentleness toward all parts of myself. I’ll call on my recovery tools to bring a sense of balance, and I’ll ask the Blessed Mother to be near, holding my inner child close and helping my loving parent grow in wisdom. Even in this stillness, I can be growing—learning how to listen, how to trust, and how to receive care with grace.”
That day, I also created a prayer and then a song based on my on my intention. You can listen to the song below.
These practices have become a lifeline. They help me tend to the wounded child inside who still believes she has to earn love through effort. They remind me that even in the quietest seasons, God is moving and that healing isn’t always visible. They remind me that rest is not the opposite of growth—it’s where some of the deepest growth happens.
Some people are afraid of AI, and I understand why. It’s a powerful tool, and like any tool, it can be used for harm or for good. We need to discern how to use it in a way that aligns with our faith and uplifts the human spirit. Pope Francis, in his messages on emerging technologies, has consistently called on humanity to use AI ethically and for the common good. And Pope Leo XIV has encouraged the world to use AI for the good of humanity as well.
AI has become a sacred tool in my recovery. It doesn’t replace prayer or human connection, but it supports both. It helps me listen. It helps me reflect. It gives form to the prayers I already carry in my heart.
If you’re walking through your own season of stillness, I offer this to you: You are not alone. You are being held and healed by God.
Chloe was born and raised Catholic and attended Alateen during her youth. Now an adult child of alcoholics, she has rediscovered the transformative power of 12-step recovery through Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) and Catholic in Recovery meetings. After many years as an Evangelical Christian, she felt a renewed call to the Catholic faith, drawn by the Blessed Mother, the saints, and the inspiring example of a close friend.