Stories of HOPE

Addiction was rapidly ripping my life away from me. In the mirror I saw a free woman able to come and go as she pleased, sharing her true feelings, and no longer being pushed around. In the real world…my health was deteriorating, I was isolating by attacking my family, and losing the ones who loved me the most at a fast pace. Cocaine and meth were a constant in my life. Up for days on end, needing a fix to wake up and get through the day. When the drive ran out the only solution was more. Day 3 was always my breaking  point before my body would shut down. On one of those day 3’s, I had my first ever seizure and stopped breathing. I woke up wet and cold with zero recollection and being told nonchalantly about what happened. No medical attention, just CPR and being thrown in a cold shower. I woke up and used again. It wasn’t until I walked out on my job, ran away from my family, had my son taken from my home, and felt suicide was the only way out that I found my rock bottom. That rock bottom led me to reluctantly enter into treatment. In all honesty, I only did it initially to placate my family. I became clean the week before rehab because I truly believed they would turn me away. My daddy drove me to Mount Regis a couple of days after they called me with an open bed. It was in that moment I knew I was not ok losing my son and I would do whatever it took to keep him with me. I didn’t get to say goodbye, I cried, and I learned that my father cried the entire way home without me. That day I received a second chance. I had the opportunity to do this for ME. I learned it was only ME who could make this decision. ME who had to take responsibility and accept I had a problem. All this time, I believed I was “functioning”, never an addict, just someone who needed to have some “fun”. My addiction lied to me. I listened to it over and over. After allowing my brain and body the space to heal, the world opened up again. Little things made me happy. I was able to come home and begin repairing the relationships I had thrown away like they were only in my way. I became close again with my brother, I put work into my marriage (spoiler…he wasn’t the problem), my family began to place trust in me again little by little…and my son…he got to hug me - not bury me. 2 years later and I am still working to fix what is broken. I was diagnosed as bipolar in addition to the anxiety and depression I battled for years to no avail. Today, I am blessed to see the sunrise, blessed to come home to people who love me and CHOSE to stay beside me in my darkest hour. They show up for me every single day. Telling my story doesn’t make me feel vulnerable any longer. I am finally LIVING. My God is still chasing me as the one sheep out of the 99. I work to stay clean each and every day with purpose. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever been through in my life and it’s hard to accept this is a lifetime disease. I fight in my recovery because my life depends on it. I will always be grateful for those I’ve met on this journey, those I’ve had to let go of, and those that fight their own demons while showing up for others. My mental health is in the best place it’s ever been and I can confidently say it is only by the grace of God and every prayer ever said for me that I am clean today!

-- Jordan