20 Years In Recovery
The evening of November 4, 2014 I had three options.
Keep using heroin and live on the streets
Surrender to the unknown of more jail time and try to get clean (again)
Jump off the bridge into the Ohio River and hopefully end the madness and overwhelm that consumed me
The first option was most comfortable. The second option was smothered in shame and appeared insurmountable. The third option was scary but not a guaranteed death. I knew I didn’t want to live the life I was living but I had no idea what a different life looked like or where to begin. I surrendered that night to unknown jail time and another shot (pun intended) at getting clean. I was a puddle of shame and disappointment scooped up and into my father’s car. I was hated by people, untrusted by most and unrecognizable. My body hurt like I’d never felt before, breaking under the weight of yet another failure. I surrendered, yes, but I didn’t want to live.
Fast forward 20 years and it’s as if I’m a completely different person that never encountered that season of her life. I’m completely abstinent from all drugs and alcohol, but it didn't happen all at once. My recovery story is a mix of substances, alcohol and anorexia. While I never used heroin after that night of November 4th I did drink alcohol (socially of course, whatever that means?). Sure, my consumption was “normal” and my life was incredibly high functioning, but it was the reason behind the use that eventually drove me to stop. I had never felt like I could be me and showing up as several versions of myself, to fit the environment, required a stiff drink at the end of the day.
My recovery had a lot of twists and turns, but initially my success came from the recovery capital – AKA privileges – I had from my individual situation.
I had a home to live in with a family that wasn’t using drugs.
My family had money to support me.
They could get me into treatment(s) and foot the bills as needed.
I was in college earning a degree to start a career.
I had internal legal counsel support me,plus, a lawyer that I didn’t have to pay for to navigate the judicial system.
This is the 1% of the recovery community. If everyone had this we’d see a lot more success in recovery.
I want to take each of these and state the opposite to showcase what the average person in recovery is facing.
I had NO home to live in and most of my family was using (and selling) drugs.
I had NO money and no one in my family to help me.
I could NOT get treatment because I didn’t have insurance and/or couldn't afford it.
I had little to NO education.
I had NO legal counsel support or money for a lawyer to navigate the judicial system.
This is just a small subset of the challenges people face when starting their recovery journey. I could add in race, poverty, culture and sex, just to name a few, that also drastically change the outcomes.
There is NO one-size fits all recovery program. Recovery is individualistic. People deserve individuals that will help them through different phases of recovery and be a resource broker for recovery capital (IE find programs, treatments and organizations that provide housing, jobs, legal aid, etc.). They also deserve to have someone to support their efforts and challenge them along the way. Having someone in your corner can be pivotal to people in recovery of any form. Connection and compassion can be the difference between change.
This is why I decided to start the journey to become a Recovery Coach. In addition to my life & wellness coaching, I want to support people in any phase of recovery. From curiosity to use reduction to abstinence – it doesn't matter. Whether you are thinking about drinking less or are hiding a drug addiction and feel shame. I can help you. I’m excited to have completed my training for Recovery Coaching and to be partnering up with foundations and nonprofits for 1-1 work as well workshops in my community. Change starts with us as individuals and then blooms through connection with others.
Be kind to you. Be kind to others. The world needs more love.