Crystal was raising a child while quietly losing herself. When she realized she couldn’t remember her daughter’s life anymore, she knew everything had to change…
Hi! My name is Crystal, and this is my recovery story.
The Weight of Survival
I was a single mother of a three-year-old, and I hated myself. I hated any form of a higher power that would hand me the life I had. My childhood ended abruptly; my mother got sick when I was six and passed away when I was twelve. I grew up in foster homes—not the supportive kind, but the kind that make the news for all the wrong reasons.
By 13, my addiction was in full force. I went to school with alcohol in every drink, fueled by a deep rage from years of physical, mental, and sexual abuse. At 18, I walked away from the foster system and never looked back. I finished high school, though I barely remember it. To survive, I did things I wasn’t proud of. I was homeless, bouncing between jobs and dangerous people, just trying to stay afloat.
The Cycle of Shame
At 23, in the height of my use, I got pregnant. I managed to quit until she was born, but the cycle returned quickly. I tried to hide it—I only drank when she was sleeping—but I started making her bedtime earlier and earlier just so I could start sooner. By the age of two, I had taught my daughter how to use a microwave so she could be self-sufficient. Those were not my best moments.
The breaking point came when she was three. I realized I had no idea how she got to bed, what we did for her birthday, or even if she had eaten. I was faced with a devastating choice: either I end my life, or I change it. I couldn't let my daughter grow up in foster care like I did.
On the outside, I appeared "functional," but inside, the wounds were deep. I had physical and emotional scars and utilized self-harm to cope. I wouldn't let anyone get close to me. But at 26 years old, I finally walked into an A.A. meeting with my daughter in tow. All I remember they told me was: “Just keep coming.”
The Gritty Reality of Recovery
I wish I could have detoxed in a professional facility. If I had known then what I know now about the safety and support of a clinical environment, it would have been my first choice. But at the time, I was terrified of losing my child, my apartment, or my job.
I detoxed while working 60 hours a week as a manager. I pushed through on coffee, energy drinks, and daily meetings. Slowly, I started to let my guard down. Through the 12 steps and working with a Licensed Alcohol and Drug Counselor (LADC), I finally began to process my trauma. I discovered yoga and dance as creative outlets, and for the first time, I actually started to like life.
No More Trash Bags
Sobriety has given me gifts I never thought possible. I am no longer moving my belongings in trash bags. I bought a house that no longer feels temporary—it’s a home that no one can take away from me. Most importantly, I love myself today. That is huge, because I used to be the person I hated most.
My daughter is now a grown woman on her own successful path. I have a partner who loves me, faults and all, and a "made" family of bonus kids and grandbabies. Professionally, I’ve gone from surviving to leading. After earning my Associate's degree, I am finishing my Bachelor’s in Human Services and just passed my LADC exam.
My Mission at Avenues
Today, I work at Avenues Recovery as a Client Engagement Specialist. I love being the person who meets you at the door—a face of comfort in an unfamiliar, scary place. I know exactly what it feels like to be on the other side of that door.
I plan to continue my education with a Master’s in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. My goal is to help people navigate not just addiction, but all the aspects of life that feel broken. After 16 years of sobriety, I still serve on the same A.A. board I joined over a decade ago. I remain willing to learn and grow.
I don’t have any "before" pictures from those dark years, but I have plenty of "after" ones. Today, I’m not just surviving—I am a full participant in my own beautiful life.
