This Is the Story I Wasn’t Supposed to Survive
Hi! My name is Nick Hauser…
…and this is the story I wasn’t supposed to survive.
I was born on May 6, 1982, in Fort Wayne, Indiana. On paper, I was just a kid from a small town – Churubusco and later Wolf Lake & Arcola. I loved baseball. I made the all-star team every year. My mom was at every game, cheering me on like I was in the major leagues.
But there was always an empty spot in the bleachers where my dad should’ve been.
Growing Up Around Addiction
My father was an alcoholic, and alcohol became the background noise of my childhood. Nights were filled with the sounds of beer cans cracking open, poker chips clacking together, marijuana smoke hanging in the air. And while the adults got drunk and high, I crawled on the floor picking up dropped money and fetching beers—opening them first so I could sneak a drink.
I was a kid…getting paid to get buzzed.
And no one even noticed.
When the Damage Took Root
When I was twelve, my parents divorced. But the damage had already taken root. I watched my dad get drunk and take out his anger on my mom. I stayed with him anyway, because I didn’t want to switch schools. He grew marijuana, and I started stealing it—thinking it made me grown, thinking it gave me control. But really, the addiction was already controlling me.
A Home Filled With Fear
When I moved back in with my mom, things didn’t get better. Her new boyfriend was another alcoholic, smoking weed, snorting cocaine—violent, unpredictable, dangerous. He stole from me. He abused my mom. He turned our home into a place of fear.
Until one night, I opened my bedroom door and saw him hitting her.
I ran at him with everything I had—every bit of anger, fear, and helplessness inside me. I swung, and swung, and swung… And he grabbed me, overpowered me, and threw me down like I was nothing.
That was the night my mom and I finally left.
Leaving — But Taking the Trauma With Us
We left everything behind…except the trauma.
We moved to Arcola, and I went to Carroll Middle School, angry at the world. I rebelled harder—selling weed, using cocaine, fighting, getting suspended. I ended up at Wood Youth Center and wore it like a badge of honor.
Addiction Takes Over
By junior year, I was expelled. By 18, I was already living on my own. And I dove headfirst into a life of addiction—marijuana, cocaine, alcohol—whatever numbness I could get.
Then came the arrests. Public intoxication at 18. Possession of marijuana at 20. And at 22…my life became a police chase.
I was smoking crack with two friends when we ran out of lighters. A simple gas station stop turned into sirens, alleys, dark back roads, speeding with my headlights off, ditching drugs into cornfields, and cops swarming like a scene from a movie.
But this wasn’t a movie.
This was my life falling apart.
I spent months in jail, violated probation, went back, got out, got arrested again. It was a revolving door. A treadmill straight to destruction.
Prison, Relapse, and the Cycle
Then 2007 happened.
I was 25 years old when a friend called me for cocaine. I didn’t know he was wired. I didn’t know I was walking straight into a setup. When I got in the car and felt that wire under his shirt, something inside me snapped. I ripped it off him, he bailed out of the car, and I fled—knowing I was headed for years in prison.
I was charged with dealing cocaine, possession, and robbery. I took a plea: 12 years. I served 3½. Violated parole. Went back. Then the cycle continued—2015, 2018. OWIs. Meth. Firearms charges. More prison time.
I would get released, meet up with old friends, and within a week be high again. Selling again. Running again. Destroying myself again.
Until March 9, 2020.
That date is tattooed on my soul and my head.
Because on that day… for the first time in my entire life… I admitted the truth:
“I’m using meth. And I can’t stop.”
Choosing Help
I called my parole officer expecting to be thrown back in prison. Instead, he offered me something I had never been offered before:
A way out.
He gave me the chance to go to rehab, and I took it. I checked myself into the Salvation Army Adult Rehabilitation Center and stayed—not for six months like required, but for nine months—because for the first time, I wanted to live.
After nine months of rebuilding the pieces of who I was, they hired me. They believed in me before I believed in myself.
Finding Purpose at Avenues Recovery
Two years later, in November 2022, I joined Avenues Recovery Center. I’ve been a Behavioral Health Technician, Group Facilitator, and now Intake & Alumni Coordinator. I get to meet people on their worst day—and walk with them into something better.
Today, I am standing here with nearly five years sober.
Sober since March 9, 2020.
And because of recovery…
I have full custody of my children.
I’ve rebuilt my family.
I bought a home.
I found a relationship with my Higher Power.
And I get to serve others who are living the same hell I survived.
A Final Word
I shouldn’t be alive. I shouldn’t be free. I shouldn’t be here to write about all of this.
But I am.
Because one day, I asked for help.
And one day, I finally believed I was worth saving.
My name is Nick Hauser.
I am a grateful recovering addict.
And this…is my testimony.
Thank you.
