Hello, my name is Lori, and I am a person in recovery.
I began using substances to experience the euphoric feeling that I enjoyed in my early 20s. The substances I had been using for pleasure quickly became necessary for me to get through a day. I had no particular preferred substance; I enjoyed whatever was put in front of me. I had a beautiful childhood, filled with love, support, and care. My father was a Marine, and my siblings and I were born on base, with a military upbringing foundation. He was also a person with alcohol use disorder. My parents separated when I was only 4 and my grandparents filled the empty space that my father left. My grandfather was a WWII veteran, so the military upbringing continued.
I was raised to put in complete effort and devotion to the things I chose to do, to work hard and to be the best at whatever those things were, and to never quit something I had started. I was to be a winner and as close to perfect as I could be in all things.
As a single mom raising four children, my mother worked three jobs, leaving the four of us to watch over each other with my grandfather popping in periodically. I preferred to be in the company of my grandparents, so I spent most of my time with them.
Although most people think of the “black sheep” as the person who differs in a rebellious fashion, this was not the case for me. My two brothers and sister were the rebellious ones, and I was the child who conformed to society’s standards. I watched my siblings’ punishments and consequences and did not follow their lead, instead receiving rewards and praise for my behavior. The four of us were a well-oiled machine- what one couldn’t do, the other could; together, we were able to overcome any obstacle. My husband and I raised our children in the same fashion, and my little family became a force to be reckoned with.
I made a career out of bartending, opening one establishment, working a mid-shift in another, and closing a third. Each establishment offered a shift drink and regulars just waiting to drink with the bartender. It didn’t take long for me to start lying about having to work just to be able to drink or for my co-workers to call me in on my days off so I could have a night out. I told myself I deserved these moments.
It also didn’t take me long to convince myself I needed substances to just get through each shift. I began the day with substances to give me energy, maintained myself through the day with substances that numbed, and ended the day with substances to calm me down. The people closest to me participated in this behavior, and our lives became a decade-long party. We told ourselves that it must not be a problem because we juggled employment, family, and obligations along with our substance use.
Before long, though, my recreational habits turned into problem habits that I was sure I was managing just fine. I just needed to make it through the season, and then I could slow down and stop — but the season never ended.
I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2016, which ended my employment and had me sinking even deeper into substance use and mental health deterioration. My husband’s use also became constant at that time. The more we struggled in life, the more we used; the more we used, the harder life got.
My 20-year marriage was an abusive struggle, which began in the second year and escalated to unmanageable during the last four years. I filed for divorce and left our home several times, but never followed through; I was stuck. My husband leaving me was the best gift he had ever given me, though I didn’t see it that way at the time.
I completely fell apart; my well-oiled machine was broken and my entire family divided. For the next two years, I engaged in riskier and riskier behavior, not caring if I lived or died; hoping to die, but not able to bring myself to commit suicide, and wishing for a fatal accident. I will never forget how my youngest son stayed with me, by my side, trying so hard to bring me back to myself.
During those two years, my brother overdosed non-fatally and I was given his two children, my mother passed away, the Covid quarantine was put in place, my best friend hung himself in a jail cell, the home I had just agreed to purchase was condemned, and the state took my youngest son from me due to truancy and placed him in his father’s home, giving his father complete control over me once again. Not knowing how to deal with any of it, I ran away for a few months.
Because I didn’t know how to live anymore, I returned home after depleting all of my resources and available charity. I ended up being arrested for drug possession and thrown in jail from my first criminal offense. I vowed to clean up my act if I got out of that situation.
Two months after my release, I was right back into heavy substance use, and by the grace of God, I was arrested again and sent back to jail. During this jail stay, I lost all of my material possessions and my apartment, yet started to find myself again. Having no place to go upon release and being denied my request for rehab because the authorities did not feel I had a problem — since I had denied having one up until that point — I was sent to a homeless shelter an hour from the place I called home, in the city where I currently reside.
I knew nobody. I had no belongings and nowhere to run. When a person has nothing to lose and a desire to stop losing, that’s when miracles can happen.
While I was incarcerated the second time, the women I shared a block with brought me back to life. I was no longer alone. The tools I needed to build my recovery began in that jail as well, and I did what was suggested and found a 12-step meeting as soon as I was released. I went to that meeting and was surrounded with the first unconditional love, caring, and compassion that I had been given in decades. These became the new feelings I wanted to chase. Although this was not the first time I tried to clean myself up, it was the first real attempt I made.
I didn’t even know about the 12-step programs in our area until I went to jail. I was convinced that if I admitted I had a problem, then my life would only get worse; however, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Having been denied substance use treatment by the prison and told they didn’t believe I really had a problem fueled my desire to help instill changes on how substance use and substance use treatment are approached.
I voluntarily entered into substance use treatment at Alcohol and Drug Abuse services once I was released from jail and attended 12-step meetings. It was obvious that my life had become unmanageable and that I had no idea how to make it manageable again, so I listened to those who had been able to change their lives and followed their suggestions. I approached this last attempt at recovery seriously and as I had been taught to do: with complete effort and devotion, and with success as the only option. I found the things I had been searching for: genuine connections, bonds, and love — the only things that mattered to me.
Today I work for the company that helped me make these changes, Alcohol and Drug Abuse Services. My peers saw in me something that I knew was there but didn’t know how to nurture, and they recommended I go for it and become a Certified Recovery Specialist.
I treat my clients the way I needed to be treated. When being in the hospital to meet with a client, support them, and help point them in the right direction means that a client continues services, and they are able to express this to me, I know that what I’m doing matters and is making a difference.
One client was unable to connect with the inpatient facility she was placed in, and I helped her relocate to a different facility. After she left that facility, she moved across the state, where she resides in a sober living home for women. She is gainfully employed, and her goal is to return home to her children. We still connect, not for services, but for continued support.
There is no one-size-fits-all way to approach every client; each one is different. If we listen to what our clients are saying, we learn that they’re telling us how to help them help themselves. The recovery services field is a patient career path, ever-changing and respectful, where the experiences of the recovery support staff are valued.
I hope to be an advocate, mainly a public speaker advocate, for all types of female recovery, as I have experienced. I wish to be a voice of inspiration and motivation while educating those without lived experience. My goal is to work with substance use disorder clients and their families to build a life together in recovery — as I was given.
