The First Time Around
For a long time, I thought I had beaten the odds. I had gone to treatment, I had done the work, and I had achieved the one thing that mattered most: I got my children back. I was living the life I thought I was supposed to have. But addiction is a patient predator. It waits for a crack in the foundation, and when it found mine, it didn't just take my sobriety—it took everything I had fought to reclaim.
The Second Fall
I didn't "relapse." I freely gave over my children for this disease. I had fought so hard to be their mother, only to give them away once more. This time felt different than the first; this time, it felt like I had sold my soul.
I spiraled into a darkness that words can barely capture. I was lost, broken, and eventually, homeless. I had reached a state of total spiritual bankruptcy where I had no hope and no will to live. Most terrifyingly, I had no fear of dying. I was just waiting for the end.
The Nine-Month Breaking Point
The "end" didn't come for me, but it came for those around me. In a staggering nine-month timeframe, I lost three people I cared deeply for to this same disease. Their deaths were a mirror I couldn't stop looking at. Somewhere in that grief, combined with something a person had said to me that stuck in my mind, I realized I was done. I couldn't go on, but I couldn't die.
The "Kicking and Screaming" Phase
I went back to treatment, but I didn’t go gracefully. I went kicking and screaming. I was the person no one wanted to be around. I attempted to leave several times and I was profoundly miserable. I made sure everyone around me knew it, too. My logic was simple: If I was miserable, you were going to be miserable right along with me.
I was a person riddled with fear and shame, lashing out because I didn't know how to heal.
The Choice to Forgive
The staff and the people around me didn't give up. They suggested I try two things that felt impossible: learn to forgive myself and find a belief in a power greater than myself. At first, I resisted. But somewhere along the way, the walls came down. I did exactly what they suggested. I stopped fighting the help and started fighting the disease.
A Full House
Today, I am 3 1/2years sober. It took hard work and a level of dedication I didn't know I possessed, but I gained back all the things I so freely gave away. Today, two of my children live with me. I am a constant, loving presence in the lives of my other two children. I am even engaged to be married.
My Higher Power is no longer a concept; it’s a presence that stays with me through the good days and the hard ones. I remain grateful. I remain sober.
