“This disease does not discriminate. I had a wonderful childhood, filled with love and warmth. I remember my mother taking a sip of non-alcoholic White Zinfandel and joking that she felt a buzz. I would laugh and say, ‘Mommy, there is no alcohol in it!’ Little did I know then that my life would one day be a battle with substances far stronger than wine.
Looking back now, I see that my early behavior hinted at struggles I would face later. I always craved attention, feeding off the approval of others, never realizing that true confidence had to come from within. Initially, I measured my worth by what people said about my appearance. This led to my first battle: an eating disorder. I would purge in secret, hiding the evidence in my closet, while maintaining the illusion of perfection. I loved eating in front of others, enjoying the compliments about how much I could eat while still looking flawless, all while secretly exercising for hours and vomiting later in private.
Athletics were another part of my identity. Tennis became my refuge and my pride. I was ranked number one in North Eastern Ohio in my age groups from 12-and-under through 18-and-under, and I went on to play for Ohio State. Yet my life was a blur of drugs and self-absorption. I can’t even recall the name of my Ohio State coach or how long I truly played—drugs had stolen my focus.
At 17, while working at a coffee house, I was invited to a party across the street. I had heard of heroin, cocaine, marijuana, and alcohol, but crack was foreign to me. On a table were white rocks. Curious, I asked, ‘What is that?’ When offered a $30 hit, I tried it—and instantly became addicted. Within months, my life spiraled into abuse and survival. The man who introduced me would blow smoke into my body, conditioning me to associate sexual abuse with access to drugs. Innocent and naive, I learned quickly how the streets worked. My body bore the consequences: swollen lips, endless exploitation, nights of fear, and survival became my only goal.
I remember one terrifying experience vividly: after a three-day bender at a place known as ‘Big Mama’s house,’ I was accused of theft. Four men abducted me, sexually assaulted me, and left me bleeding in the middle of winter, barefoot, with a five-dollar hit of crack lying beside me. That moment marked the early, dark depths of my addiction.
California only intensified my struggles. I lived three lives there: married, single, and addicted. Even with periods of sobriety, my addiction found new ways to destroy me. A single hit of crack, a relapse sparked by a boyfriend, led me down years of chaos—shooting up in abandoned buildings, being pushed from moving vehicles, and facing death threats from dealers. My survival was nothing short of miraculous.
I met my second husband during my fifteenth rehab stay, a relationship forged amidst chaos. Married for eight years, separated within months, I endured mental abuse that still haunts me. At one point, my ex tried to manipulate my mental health against me, claiming I needed hospitalization for multiple personality disorder. Through it all, I held on to fragments of sobriety, often faking drug tests, yet longing to be free.
Two turning points ignited my desire for lasting sobriety: the threat of losing my children to another state, and a desperate call to the man who would become my husband. From a crack house, I reached out, admitting that I might die without help. He came. That call planted the seed for recovery. Witnessing his simple, disciplined life—making coffee, cleaning, caring—made me crave stability and normalcy. It took almost a year, but gradually, I began reclaiming my life.
I started fighting not just for myself but for my children. Facing multiple drug-related charges across four counties, I embraced honesty and accountability. Supervised visitations evolved into unsupervised moments, and eventually, full custody. I learned that sobriety alone wasn’t enough; honesty, self-love, and consistency were vital. Therapy became a family journey, teaching me that calmness and patience could guide my children toward stability.
I’ve been through 19 rehabs, sold everything meaningful for a hit, and teetered on the edge of life and death. On July 11, 2017, I took a leap of faith, asking God for help with every fiber of my being. Since then, my life has transformed. I am remarried, reunited with my family, and living my childhood dream. After reconnecting with my former tennis coach unexpectedly, I pursued the sport again. Today, I compete on the ITF pro tennis tour, proving that a life reset at 40 is possible.
Recovery is not a solitary journey. Rediscovering the joys of sleeping peacefully, feeling emotions fully, and embracing love as a sober woman has been like being reborn. I’ve learned that honesty—with myself and others—is the foundation for true happiness. Sobriety, self-love, and courage allow me to nurture my children, pursue my passions, and embrace life fully.
The journey isn’t easy. I’ve faced unimaginable pain, but I’ve discovered that embracing discomfort is the key to transformation. The only limits are the ones I place on myself. Today, I love myself fully, and with that love, I can give back abundantly. I am living proof that it’s never too late to reclaim your life, pursue your dreams, and find your spark—even after the darkest chapters.”
