Surrender to what is. Let go of what was. Have faith in what will be.
I’ll never forget my last day in active addiction. I found myself outside of a motel, sitting inside a truck that didn’t belong to me. I had been living in that truck for quite some time. I was waiting on a random guy while he was robbing a convenience store down the street. That night, I made a call to my family and told them I was going to take my life. I didn’t want to live one more minute in the darkness I had created for myself. I didn’t see any way out, and I had given up on fighting this disease of addiction.
My life in addiction had become so dark that I didn’t know if I’d ever see light again.
I had no insurance, not a dollar to my name and no friends or family left. All I had was a flip phone from my drug dealer and a couple of suitcases full of clothes. I was waiting for a call from a rehab in West Palm Beach that was willing to offer help for addiction. The phone rang, and the man on the other end said, “You can come here, but if you get high the deal is off.” At that moment, I felt hope for the first time. All I wanted was sobriety. I was finally going to be free. He sent a driver to pick me up, and from that day on, I never looked back.
My life didn’t get better by chance. It got better by change.
I was fearful and doubtful at times, but most importantly I was hopeful. And with hope, I could do anything. For the first time in my life, I was working and learning to support myself. With the help of a halfway house, I was on my way. I got a sponsor, worked the 12 steps and, most importantly, I found a higher power that has guided me every step of the way. I would have never been able to walk through addiction and the trials and tribulations I have endured in recovery without a supportive family and friends.
It is through my darkest moments that light shines through.
The greatest gift I received throughout my journey is my daughter, Adriana. Her father died of a drug overdose three days after we found out I was pregnant. The pain I experienced throughout that was like nothing I had ever felt before. I had no choice but to keep going — not only for myself but now for my daughter. If it weren’t for the foundation I built through my recovery, I would not have stayed sober. Adriana James Jones was born November 2, 2014. She shares a birthday with her father.
Since early pregnancy, I started working for a halfway house. Though, I can hardly call it work. Every day I guide women and share my experiences with them in hopes to make a real impact. I began as a night manager and worked my way up to director level. I’m able to not only talk, but show that recovery is possible. No matter what life throws at me, there is nothing I cannot get through sober.