My story with addiction didn't start in a dark alley or at a wild party. It started in a garage at 12 years old with a drink of alcohol shared with my adopted dad. What was meant to be innocent—a moment of connection and "having a good time"—became the first step into an eight-and-a-half-year chase for something I could never catch.

My adolescence became a battlefield. Abandonment, destructive choices, and a constant need to escape consumed me.  I had periods of sobriety, but the obsession never truly left.

Everything changed when I stopped trying to get sober for everyone else and finally chose recovery for myself at 20 years old. That decision changed more than my habits—it changed my life. Recovery stopped being something I was forced to do and became something I wanted to protect.

Today, I have seven and a half years of sobriety. More importantly, I have peace. I have purpose. I have a life that is simple, but incredibly full; a life I once sold myself short on.

Addiction took me places I never imagined I'd go. It stole things from me I didn't even realize I valued until they were gone. But recovery gave me something addiction never could: self-worth, discipline, gratitude, and hope. I've learned that the smallest moments—a quiet morning, genuine laughter, fishing during sunset and simply being present—have made the biggest impact on my journey. My purpose now is bigger than my past. I want to be the advocate that someone was for me in early recovery. I want to be a voice for those who feel unheard and an example that recovery isn't just possible—it's sustainable. Healing made me realize I was never broken, just bent. Getting clean and sober was me straightening myself out so I could show up for myself and others.

I'll never forget the girl I used to be. She endured more than she ever should have, but she never stopped fighting. And because of her, I get to be the woman I am today.

If you're struggling, know this: recovery is real. One decision, one day, one step at a time can lead to a life you never thought was possible. I know—because I'm living it.