When people say addiction doesn't discriminate, they mean it. On paper, I was the last person anyone expected to struggle. I was an honor roll student and an athlete. I traveled abroad with a music program, singing in the choir. I came from an upper-middle-class family that loved me deeply. I didn’t "look" like the ideal candidate for addiction—but the disease doesn't care about your GPA or your zip code.
It started small: sneaking alcohol at 13. But that quickly escalated into partying every weekend, and eventually, popping pills every day just to function at school. By 18, the life I knew was gone. I was kicked out of my parents' house for stealing and spent the next few years living out of my car or crashing on friends' couches.
The turning point came with a tragedy. A close friend overdosed and died, and the reality hit me: I could either get clean, or I could be next.
I tried to run. I moved states to live with a sober aunt, thinking a change of scenery would fix me. But as the saying goes, you can’t run from your problems. Within six months, I was right back where I started. Fortunately, I didn't have to face it alone. With the unwavering support of my aunt and cousins, I was able to find my footing and get clean again.
It took another five years to realize that my drinking was just as much of a problem as the pills. In February 2013, I finally put the bottle down for good.
Today, my life is unrecognizable. I have been clean since June 2008 and sober since February 2013. I am married to my best friend, I serve in my local church, and I spend my days trying to bring joy to everyone I meet.
People often ask what my favorite part of sobriety is. It isn’t just the absence of substances—it’s the mended relationships. It’s the ability to finally live again, instead of just surviving. My story is a reminder to anyone still in the dark: Addiction can happen to anyone, but more importantly, anyone can recover.