“Lessons are best learned by going through it and seeking strength from within to overcome it.”

My journey has provided me with an endless amount of learning experiences. Every moment I spent battling the darkness, I knew deep down I was missing something. Forgiveness has played a major role in my recovery. Only recently, did I finally realize that the major barrier between recovery was self-forgiveness. I have spent every waking moment surpassing my past self but didn’t experience much development. I matured and came to terms with what I went through, but my mindset remained the same. If you don’t forgive yourself for the mistakes, you’ve made when you didn’t know better, then you’ll continue to doubt every opportunity that grants you growth.

I was born in Roanoke, VA on May 8, 1997.

I lost my twin brother during birth. I eventually developed survivor’s guilt at a young age. I was unable to comprehend why I was the one that survived and not him, I found it unfair. After a lot of work, I was able to turn that mindset into making the most of everything life had to offer for the both of us. I turned confusion into determination, I was going to make him proud.

Childhood years were filled with endless obstacles, full of neglect and abandonment. My sister and I were witnesses to the many abusive moments between my parents, and the endless cycle of addiction. I remember playing in the front yard when my dad was arrested. I remember wondering why I couldn’t go with him because a kid should never have to go without their dad. I remember locking myself in my room to hide from the destruction, losing myself in my imagination, because make believe made life seem tolerable.

From 13 to 17 I learned about self-harm. It was when I finally became aware of what addiction truly was. A razor became my secret best friend, it promised me that it would always take away the pain of teenage experiences and the pressure I endured throughout school.

At 17, my curiosity for alcohol emerged. I went to a friend’s house unaware of the trauma that I would soon encounter. See, when you’re young, you’re oblivious to the cruel intentions of humans. I didn’t think anything of it when my friend chose to invite her boyfriend and his older, mature friend along. I believed that the night would be full of silly mistakes that I would eventually laugh at when I was older. But I was wrong. Not knowing my drinking limit, I became drunk easily. And the next thing I knew, my virginity was being stolen by a stranger without my consent.

A few months later, I made the decision to try and make the best of my senior year and attend a party. I was challenged to a shot taking contest with 3 guys. See, at the time I didn’t find it bizarre that they weren’t making any attempt to beat me. I was just focused on winning. After the warm rush of booze hit my soul, both sides of my arms were being gripped by multiple hands. I was being physically picked up and carried into a bedroom. I remember hearing the door become forcefully locked, and being surrounded by more than one guy, I knew I was powerless. I tried to picture myself in my happy place while the unthinkable happened. I was sexually abused twice in the same year.

From 18 to 20, I dropped out of college and started working for a restaurant. I was soon offered cocaine for the first time. This drug had a powerful hold on me, I was doing everything I could to get my hands on it. I lost too much money because of it. I stopped eating, I drastically lost a lot of weight, I became someone I didn’t even recognize. It was the reason why I started having panic attacks, but I was so invested in the relationship that I remained loyal. The only thing that was allowed to come between us was alcohol. The two of them got along very well. They were secretly plotting on the best way to gain control over my self-esteem. These two substances had the upper hand for most of my young adult years. I tried experimenting with stronger drugs, but these two had their grip on me too tightly. I didn’t have much help with overcoming my addiction to cocaine, because I didn’t have many positive influences in my life. It just took a lot of self-control and willpower to come to the realization that this drug didn’t love me, it loved what I would do to get it. I had to look internally and remind myself that this was fake love.

When I was 20, my dad and my sister moved out and my mom thought moving her boyfriend in was a good idea. Keep in mind, he was the one supplying her drugs during my childhood years. I watched the powerful grasp of addiction alter my mom’s world. We were evicted from my childhood home.

My parents didn’t have the support they needed to overcome their own demons, and they were doing the best they could with what they had. I learned to treat them with compassion not accountability. We may have not had much, but they still went to the ends to make sure we were taken care of, despite the difficulties.

From 20 to 22, I moved in with my boyfriend at the time. We were in an off and on relationship, he was an emotionally abusive person. He was an enabler and a manipulator who eventually made my addictions and mental health worse. My mental state was spiraling out of control. At this point, I’ve been in and out of inpatient hospitals but wasn’t ready to make any adjustments only because my mind had a more effective idea at silencing the agony. Committing suicide soon became my motivational goal. I remember the difference between weighing the options of dying and then ultimately accepting that it was the only choice I had to break free from the immense burdens that were dragging me down. I then joined a pro-suicide forum for guidance. I became obsessed with considering my options for a peaceful way out.

At 22, I woke up to what seemed like a perfectly normal day. The sun was shining, it was a warm summer morning, I was off work, my two dogs were full of joy, I had the house to myself, and I decided to watch a movie. My breakfast involved a whole bottle of vodka, and a side of cocaine. After I finished, I headed to the bathroom with my makeshift noose, containing a workout band and an extension cord. I then attempted suicide. The authorities arrived and I was checked into an inpatient hospital for the 4th time.

At 23, I moved in with my dad. Alcohol was the only interest I had left in the world. My second home was the bar. I constantly skipped work to drown my sorrows. I became careless and reckless; I drove home obliterated each time. Realizing I had alcohol poisoning one day was a shameful occurrence for me, only because I spent Thanksgiving in the ER and not with my sister.

I checked myself into inpatient one last time, with an entirely different perspective. I was officially prepared for the do over I so desperately needed.

From 24 to 25, I finally got my own apartment and that’s when the healing really began. Only until my social anxiety restricted me from paying my landlord, so I thought I could rely on my dad to take my rent to him. Months later, I got an eviction notice on my door. I found out my dad was stealing my rent money. I’ve been fairly lenient on trust, but after this incident, I keep my trust guarded. Whether it’s family members or close friends, protecting myself became my main priority.

From 25 to the present, I was officially diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and major depressive disorder. I have a secure living condition. I pay my own expenses, and I support myself through every obstacle that gets thrown my way. I haven’t had cocaine or any other substance since May 8, 2020, and as of recent, I haven’t had alcohol since May 1, 2024. It is commonly suggested that one's sobriety date should encompass the cessation of all mind-altering substances; however, I have consistently viewed these substances as distinct from one another. Nevertheless, regardless of when you cease using either substance, should a relapse take place, it is important to remember that you do not forfeit the days you have remained sober. Do not allow yourself to feel overwhelmed or defeated. The time you have spent sober will always belong to you, and experiencing a relapse can serve as an opportunity to acquire further insights on how to improve your approach to maintaining sobriety once again.

I am doing a lot better at managing my mental health. I am finally learning healthy coping methods and I’m taking each day one by one. I am no longer allowing my past to define me. Once I decluttered my mind of the toxicity, then the pieces started to fall into place. Looking back at my journey, what was interrupting my recovery process was being in denial of receiving help. I allowed my trauma to accumulate, without dealing with it, but once I hit rock bottom, I knew that the days ahead held great potential to become better. I was addicted to being broken because I preferred to be in the problem rather than move towards a solution. I stayed confined to the familiarity of remaining in a state of discouragement because it was what I was used to. Change is terrifying but change also holds the key to obtaining resiliency. I taught myself to transform into my own role model. I look up to the person I am today. Recovery became possible the second I discovered the belief from within, and not through relying on other’s perception of me.