Voices of Recovery

I didn’t plan to lose everything. No one does.

My addiction didn’t start loudly. It started quietly, as a way to cope. A way to numb pain I didn’t know how to name yet. What began as “just getting through the day” slowly became the center of my life. I told myself I was in control. I told myself I could stop anytime. But addiction has a way of shrinking your world until the only thing that matters is the next fix.

Before I knew it, my choices were no longer my own.

The arrest felt like the end. Sitting in a cell, stripped of my freedom, my identity, and my pride, I finally had to face what I had been avoiding for years. Addiction didn’t just take my time or my money, it took my relationships, my self-respect, and my belief that I was capable of more. Incarceration was isolating, humbling, and terrifying. But it was also the first moment I was forced to be still.

And in that stillness, something cracked open.

I realized that my worst moments did not have to define my entire life. I began to listen to counselors, to peers, to stories that sounded a lot like mine. For the first time, I allowed myself to believe that change was possible, even if I didn’t yet know how to get there.

Reentry wasn’t easy. Walking back into the world with a record and a history of addiction came with stigma, rejection, and setbacks. Doors closed. People doubted me. Some days, I doubted myself. Recovery wasn’t a straight line. It was messy, uncomfortable, and required me to unlearn old patterns and build new ones from the ground up.

But I kept showing up.

I learned how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. I learned how to ask for help. I learned that accountability isn’t punishment. It’s freedom. Slowly, I rebuilt trust. With others. With my family. With myself.

Today, my comeback isn’t about pretending the past didn’t happen. It’s about using it. My experiences with addiction and incarceration gave me a perspective I wouldn’t trade. They taught me empathy, resilience, and the power of second chances. I now work to support others who feel trapped in the same cycle I once did, reminding them that their story isn’t over.

Because recovery is real. Redemption is real. And a comeback is always possible. No matter how far you’ve fallen.

I am proof that your past can be the foundation for your purpose.