16/01/2026
2016… buckle up, it’s about to be a bumpy ride 🫣
At the end of 2015, I had just moved back home from Wyoming. I went out West to meet my dad’s side of the family and to try to get my life together. 2015 was one of the darkest years of my life. I lost two of my best friends within months of each other and survived my first overdose. After only three months, I came home, thinking I could get clean on my own.
New Year’s Eve 2016, I rolled my car three times and totaled it. I ended up with pneumonia and severe body pain, which I used as an excuse to relapse. Around the same time, I received a large insurance settlement… and a 21-year-old addict with access to money is a dangerous combination. That spiral landed me in my first treatment center, Phoenix House in Keene. I met incredible people there, learned so much about myself, and then continued on to a women’s sober house in Portland, Maine. I found sisterhood, connection, and women I still hold close today. But I wasn’t ready yet. I treated it like a break instead of the deep healing I needed.
I was kicked out of my first house, went to a second, relapsed, and used needles for the first time. I failed a drug test and was kicked out again. I ended up in an apartment with my boyfriend at the time, infested with bed bugs, but I didn’t care… it was a roof over my head and a place to get high. What followed was almost three months of IV use, drug trafficking, multiple overdoses, and a trip to Tewksbury detox.
The week of Thanksgiving, I finally went home and broke down to my mom. I told her I thought I was mentally insane, that I couldn’t stop using even though every part of me wanted to. I showed her my arms. I’ll never forget the look on her face. We made a plan to detox me at home and get me the Vivitrol shot as soon as possible. That night, if you had hooked me up to a lie detector and asked if I wanted to be done for good, I would’ve passed.
But addiction is cunning. 💔
Thanksgiving Eve, I woke up dope sick, paced the house all day, and tried not to call my dealer. Around 3pm, I caved. He came. We used. I overdosed for the last time… and I died. I was gone for 11 minutes. Multiple rounds of Narcan didn’t work. They were about to pronounce me dead when they drilled into my bone marrow and pushed more medication. Miraculously, it worked. I woke up with no brain or nerve damage. The doctors called it a medical miracle. That was the first time in my life I felt a God-presence within me. That was the moment I chose to live.
Detoxing at home was brutal. My mom watched me suffer. She ran baths, held me while I screamed, begged to leave, begged to die. She never left my side. She just loved me through it. Five days later, I got my Vivitrol shot. And for the first time, I truly started doing the work… meetings, a sponsor, a job, healing, honesty. I knew in my body, in my soul, that I was done this time. I can’t explain it.
November 29, 2016 is my recovery date.
I turned 22 surrounded by my best friends.
I had my first sober Christmas in years.
And I walked into 2017 with no idea that my entire life was about to change for the better… love, family, purpose, and a future I never thought I’d live to see.
Now, almost 10 years later, I live the most beautiful, simple life.
And I say “this life is a gift” so often because it truly is. I don’t take a single second for granted. 🥹🙏🏻
