I have no idea if most people in recovery from substance use disorder recall hitting bottom, but I sure do. It was 16 years ago this month I arrived at a federal prison in Pennsylvania facing a double-digit sentence, disbarment, and total loss of connection with family and friends. Life as I had known it was turned upside down and

When I asked for help at 18 during my freshman year at college, I had no interest in recovery.  I had no desire to be sober, to uncover my true potential, to discover the life that would unfold for me.  Instead, I just wanted the Merry-Go-Round to stop. I was in a constant cycle of trying to escape the consequences

“This is going to hurt”. I realized the speeding car I was travelling in was not going to make the turn. Then impact! My good high school friend Carter and I connected with a large oak tree. The car flipped. Total chaos. Now everything was quiet. I remember in these moments of silence thinking “so this is what it’s like

Life has been beautiful and sad and exciting and mundane. Starting in my early teens, I felt an intense inner sadness and a deep level of isolation. I had no desire to continue with my life. To self-medicate my pain, I turned to drugs and alcohol.Quickly, things got out of control. I began facing consequences and those closest to me

It was 4:30 a.m. on a cold January morning, I crept down the stairs of my 1927 center hall colonial praying that the creaky old house wouldn’t give away my departure. I could see the lights of the car that had just pulled up in front of the house, waiting for me. It was a scene that probably wasn’t unfamiliar

Today When I met my now husband a year into my sobriety, I remember him asking, “Can’t you just promise that you will never drink again?” It doesn’t work that way–or at least it doesn’t for me–it’s just today. And today–I get to wake up unencumbered with a headache or shame or a fogginess. No more questions: “Where did I

In 2005 I was devastated by the sudden loss of my husband, Terence. My children were only 3,6, and 9 years old. I can remember sitting on the front porch on a Saturday, watching my neighbors drive by doing their weekend activities, while my life and my children’s lives were forever changed. Not only did I lose a beloved partner,

As a Recovery Coach, my lived experience is my primary resource and strength. Even after twenty-two years of sobriety, I am still struck by the fact that my most painful experiences have become my greatest gifts–a spiritual alchemy of sorts. Although I made a vow to myself that I would never become an alcoholic like my father, my own struggle

In Honor of My Mother My mother was a beautiful woman. She had a laugh that could make even the saddest soul grin, a smile that felt like a field of sunflowers, and an ability to make anyone feel safe when in her arms. This was my real mother, the one before the drugs took over. The mother before I

In fifth grade, my favorite subject was Vocabulary. I loved getting new vocabulary lists every week, writing each word down on a 3×5 index card with its respective definition on the back so I could quiz myself (sadly, none of my family members was quite as enthusiastic about vocabulary as I, so yes, I quizzed myself).  My biggest heartbreak that year