I lived to use and used to live. Every day was the same struggle of hell – I’d wake up, sad to be alive, praying not to use. Then I’d find myself in the same cycle of addiction – all the other things that make up the ways and means to get more. By the end of each night, I wanted to die. On July 3, 2015, I used as much as I could alone, hoping it would end me. Instead I woke up on the 4th of July and something changed, something inside me was done.
My recovery process began as I went (and continue to go) to meetings. I’ve found a life worth not only living, but striving in. I went from a homeless junkie who couldn’t stay clean for his kid to a father with joint custody, a loving relationship, and a life well beyond my wildest dreams.
Despite my desire to remain anonymous, I’m sharing my story because for a long time I thought my life was nothing but shame. But today I realize that there are others just like me who need to hear stories of success in recovery, not just stories of overdoses and funerals, crying families and broken homes.
Through recovery life has opened up before me like a limitless horizon; my lost dreams have awoken, and today I have a life greater than anything I could have ever imagined.