We often take for granted life’s subtle moments. When we slow down and sit with the stillness of an instant, the beauty of a sunrise, the laughter of a loved one, we can appreciate what is often overlooked. This mentality was crucial in my recovery from drug addiction and helped me to process and rediscover my love not only for myself, but for living too.
After I left behind my life of addiction and the toxic community that I had been imbedded with for so long, I turned to religion. Not unlike my mother and her road to faith, I was looking for a new community, one rooted in healing and support as opposed to the one that enabled the worst in me. For a time, I went to live and recover at a kind of spiritual boot camp. In my darkest moments, I saw myself with a kind of clarity I had never known before. It was through that desperation that I recognized I needed help in the form of a new structure to my life and with it, the ability to truly and honestly face myself.
In the beginning of this new life, I was truly lost. I struggled with my newfound sobriety, but I could no longer enjoy being high. I was stuck in between these two versions of myself, neither comfortable with the person I was nor fully ready to embrace the person I was becoming. It was an intolerable experience, my two truths warring with one another inside of me, shaking me to my very core. Yet in this period, it was only when I accepted the stillness of life, of staying in this moment of personal limbo, that I was able to eventually preserve.
A particular passage from the bible resonated with me during this period reads: “Be still, and know I am God” (Psalm 46:10). A simple phrase, yet so profound. I found comfort in these words, in trusting in the process of recovery and stillness, where previously I was governed by a fast-paced cycle of quick highs and cheap thrills, of distractions and shallow pleasures. But here, among like minded individuals and with the grace of God, I could find my way back to the person I was and the person I could become.
True recovery takes time and an abundance of patience, as I learned. I spent three years living in the stillness of recovery. Eventually I was able to live life again, to want more for myself, to set goals and chase ambitions and dreams like I never had before. It was like being granted a fresh pair of eyes to see the world through, new lens full of hope and possibility. I saw not only the beauty of life but the value of my own life as well, of the kind of mother I wanted to be for my son, Sam, the kind that he deserved.
I felt that I had been granted permission to forgive myself for my past. I felt redeemed in the eyes of God, as though the heavy burdens I carried for so long had finally lifted and I was free to move through this world like I had never moved before. Starting life over in my 30s was no simple task, and in fact was a bit daunting, but I had a new driving force, one focused on being a better person and helping others to do the same for themselves. I went back to school, pursuing my education in a way that would benefit others. Instead of taking lives, I would be
trying to save them, to set them on a path of healing and to ease their transition into recovery. Through my own struggles, I had learned to embrace the stillness, and in that personal moment of meditation and deep honesty, I had discovered my purpose in life, one that set me on the path that I proudly walk today.