My life of addiction didn’t start until I was 22. At the time, I was a stay-at-home mom, married but miserable. I left my husband without really knowing what I was looking for. That’s when I reconnected with an old high school boyfriend — and was quickly introduced to substances that would change everything.
My first high was on crack cocaine. I knew instantly that what my adopted parents had warned me about would become my reality. From there it escalated: pain pills, alcohol, heroin, meth. If it changed how I felt, I wanted it — and there wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do to stay high.
At 28, a neighbor introduced me to the syringe. Only weeks after my birth father had died from addiction, I became an IV user of the same drug, in the same way I swore I never would.
For the next 4–5 years, I was gone. I didn’t even call to check on my kids. My life revolved around using, no matter the cost.
In 2015, I was serving a three-year prison sentence. During that time, I swore I’d never touch drugs again. And I didn’t — at least for about a year after release.
But when I chose to use again, it started another five years of heavy addiction. I was in and out of jail, overdosed multiple times, and kept breaking the hearts of the people I loved.
One of my lowest moments came three days before the birth of my first grandbaby. Instead of being there for my daughter, I overdosed and ended up back in jail. Once again, I couldn’t choose her over the drugs.
Eventually, my daughter allowed me to live with her again. For the first time since she was a child, we were under the same roof — along with her perfect baby girl. I promised my granddaughter she would never see me high.
Two weeks later, with her in the room, I stuck a needle in my arm. For three weeks, I tried to pretend I wasn’t using. But my daughter knew. My sister, now in recovery herself, knew too.
They intervened. They waited until the exact day I had a warrant and had me arrested at a hotel. At the time, I hated them as much as I hated myself. Looking back, I see it as the greatest gift.
The system worked for me this time. I was offered long-term treatment — and I accepted. On July 1, 2023, after 3½ months in jail, I was released. Four judges, four court orders, two states — I knew this was my chance.
I got a job within a month. I found a sponsor, started working the steps, and began setting goals. Slowly, I reached those goals. I took suggestions. I chose to do the next right thing.
Today, I am part of a team whose mission is to help the next alcoholic or addict recover. It’s something I never imagined for myself.
But I never forget: I am only one away.
For those reasons, I choose myself first — every single day.
I have been clean and sober since March 16, 2023.
Kristine’s story is a powerful reminder that it is never too late to change. If you or a loved one is struggling with addiction, reach out to Avenues Recovery today to start your journey.