When I woke up today, sunlight streams gently through my curtains. It’s quiet, peaceful even. There’s a cup of coffee waiting to be brewed, a gentle moment to breathe deeply and take time to be grateful, and a calendar filled with purpose. As I sit in gratitude for another morning in recovery, I’m struck by how different my life once looked.
When I woke up in active addiction, the sun felt harsh. Its brightness mocked the darkness inside me. There was no coffee brewing or gentle good morning. Just the immediate rush of anxiety, a deep dread, knowing that today, like yesterday, would be spent chasing relief from pain that only seemed to deepen with every passing hour.
Back then, my mornings didn’t start with calm. They began in desperation and panic setting in before my feet even touched the floor. I was homeless, living out of a car, my life dictated by my need for escape through substances. My existence revolved around surviving each moment, each high, at the cost of my values, dignity, and the trust of those who loved me. Every day was an exhausting dance of lies, shame, and self-betrayal.
Today, my mornings start with reflection and intention. I pause to breathe deeply, soaking in the quiet moments. I get ready to spend the day serving adolescents and their families struggling with substance use and mental health challenges. I become the person I so desperately needed at their age. My work isn’t just a job, it’s purpose realized. It’s redemption in motion.
In active addiction, my days were filled with chaos. Relationships were transactional. Colored by manipulation and mistrust. I stole from a friend I loved deeply, betraying someone who had only ever shown me kindness. Addiction had stripped away my humanity, and I felt trapped inside a stranger’s body. Helplessly watching myself do things I never imagined I ever could.
Today, my relationships are authentic, grounded in honesty and mutual respect. My connection with my parents and siblings has healed beyond what any of us imagined. Not through perfection, but through the daily, intentional practice of boundaries, forgiveness, and patience. My fiancé, also in recovery, has shown me a love I didn’t think I could ever deserve. Our relationship is built on vulnerability and courage, constantly choosing to love openly and fearlessly.
In the depths of my addiction, the future felt impossible and unattainable. I couldn’t dream beyond my next fix. Hope was foreign; I lived in survival mode, isolated and disconnected from purpose. There were overdoses and second chances, near-deaths and fleeting glimpses of clarity. But each time, I spiraled deeper, believing recovery was something I couldn’t possibly deserve.
Now, I see my future clearly and brightly. It’s filled with milestones like my upcoming wedding, moments capturing beauty behind my camera lens, and meaningful days volunteering with foster kids. Recovery didn’t just return what addiction took. It gave me so much more. My life today is filled with laughter that comes freely, friendships rooted in genuine connection, and opportunities to give back to others walking the painful road I once traveled.
I used to fear boundaries as rejection. I believed if you loved me, you’d rescue me. But it was my parents’ choice to begin their own recovery journey. Setting boundaries and stepping back from my chaos that ultimately showed me what healthy love looks like. Their decision felt like abandonment at first, but it was the very thing that gave me space to finally face my truth. Boundaries, I learned, aren’t walls; they’re bridges to deeper connection.
Recovery taught me something profound: sobriety wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. The real work started when I chose honesty over hiding, vulnerability over lying, and presence over perfection. Healing meant confronting the deep wounds addiction had masked, the codependency disguised as kindness, the lifelong fear of abandonment.
Every day now, I get to choose recovery again. I choose honesty. I choose to hold space for both joy and grief, love and pain. I choose to keep putting one foot in front of the other, carrying resilience as my guide.
And so, the girl who once woke up each day desperate and alone now wakes up with purpose, gratitude, and an unwavering commitment to pass on the hope she found. If I, once lost in addiction’s darkest places, can find a life filled with meaning, connection and joy, then so can anyone else who dares to believe that recovery is possible.
Today, I don’t just survive. I thrive. And every step, every moment, every choice in recovery reminds me this journey is always, always worth it.
Jamie, in Recovery
