I’ve contemplated posting this for quite a while now, shame and embarrassment held me back, made me second guess myself over and over again. But here’s the thing…

This is the reality of addiction. 
This is what drug abuse can do. 
You think it will never happen to you.

It will.

It will steal everything you love. Everything you value. Everything you hold dear. Everything you cherish. It will send you to jail. It will send you to the darkest places in your mind. Eventually, it will steal your life. It almost stole mine.

In December of 2011, I overdosed on a deadly mixture of fentanyl and cocaine. I laid on the couch, cold and lifeless, for hours before I was found. My body was cool to the touch, my lips, hands, and feet were blue. Eventually the ambulance arrived. I was unresponsive, but by the grace of God, I had a faint pulse. The EMTs fought to bring me back and rushed me to the hospital where a team of amazing doctors and nurses worked on me for hours. I was intubated and put on a ventilator. I couldn’t breathe on my own, machines did it for me. I remained in a coma for 4 days. The doctors ran tests and my prognosis wasn’t promising. My heart was failing. My liver and kidneys had shut down. My right pupil was completely blown. They didn’t think I would ever wake up, that I would remain in a vegetative state. They told my family that if by some miracle I did wake up, not to expect the person that they once knew. That my brain was without oxygen for such a long period of time, that I would have severe brain damage, that I would be mentally handicapped. That I wouldn’t be able to care for myself, that I would need to be fed, wear diapers, have someone dress, undress, and bathe me. My family took shifts staying at the hospital, having someone with me at all times. They talked to me and told me how much they loved me. I’ve been told all of this by them, I have no recollection of any of it. They cried. A lot. They prayed for me. Prayed healing over my mind and body.

By the grace of God, I woke up. Not only did I wake up, but I had no permanent damage. All of my organs returned to normal function. I spent an additional week in the hospital and was eventually released with no lasting repercussions. For all intents and purposes, I was physically fine.

None of this stopped me from continuing down my path of destruction.

Within a few days, I was back at it. Doing the same things as before. I battled with addiction for another 7 years because I was still so broken. I’d get clean for anywhere from several months to over a year and then be back to the old games. No one understood and I really didn’t either. I went to rehab a few times but I never stuck with it. I’d always leave and jump right back into where I left off. For nearly a decade I overdosed more times that I can count. I’ve been hospitalized, given Narcan and sent back home. I’ve had “friends,” fellow addicts, beat me back to life. I’ve been thrown into a bathtub with ice and cold water pouring on me and left there, hoping I’d come out of it. I’ve had a total stranger perform CPR on me to keep me breathing and my heart beating until someone arrived with Narcan.

I didn’t understand why I kept doing this to myself.

In November 2017, I found myself homeless in North Carolina, hundreds of miles from anyone I knew or loved. Although my family continued to pray for me, they had given up on me. They distanced themselves to protect their hearts from my destruction. They didn’t want to be close to me because that would make it so much harder for them when I inevitably died from the demon of addiction who had his claws dug so deep that I felt like I would never break free.

One day I was sitting on a curb in a Walmart parking lot and I just broke down. I cried and cried and shouted out to God, God that I knew about but really didn’t know. I told him that if he wanted me to live, if he had a purpose for me, that he needed to show me what to do because I was resigned, I was ready to give up, and I knew that I wasn’t going to be alive much longer. I was all out of fight. I was broken. I had nothing left. God showed me City Reach. He flooded my timeline with posts from people who attended the church, who helped with the homes, every single post I saw was from someone affiliated with them. In that moment I knew, I knew I had to go back. I had to confront all of the things I was running from, all of the chaos I had created and abandoned, all of the people I’d lied to, stole from, that I’d hurt over and over again. It terrified me. But I just kept hearing “TRUST” over and over again in my head. It didn’t make sense because no one trusted me, then it clicked. He wanted me to trust Him. So I did. I called the hope home, I called my Mom and she bought me a ticket. The next morning at 11:00, I boarded a greyhound bus and made my way back to Cumberland, MD. I entered the program and felt nothing but unconditional love. They knew what I’d done, who I was, what I’d been through and you know what, and they did not care one bit about my past. They loved me in spite of myself. They loved me even though I hated myself. They loved me right where I was through it all. I cried for 3 months, broken and a mess. Then I began to do what God told me to do. I trusted Him and even though I didn’t feel worthy, I was showered with love and acceptance. I began to trust God and all of the people He had surrounded me with. He restored relationships that I never thought could be. Not only did he restore them, they’re better than they ever were before. I can’t put into words how thankful I am. I faced so many inner demons throughout my time there, I found the root of my destruction. I learned to love myself. All because I trusted God.

I’ve left out so many things that I’ve been through, that God protected me through because looking back I see His hands in every moment. In every dangerous, life-threatening situation I put myself in. He truly saved me time and time again and this post would be 10 miles long if I wrote them all.

I completed the program and graduated from it in August 2018.

I am proud to say that I have 18 months clean and it’s all thanks to God, His grace, His mercy, and most importantly His LOVE.

I chose life, a life with God.

I wrote this for those still struggling, still caught in the grips of addiction, for those who feel hopeless. All you need to do is reach out, a phone call. A message. A text. One simple act that can change your life.

Recovery is possible. Sobriety is possible. You are worthy. You are loved. There is hope.

It needs to be understood that it can happen to anyone. Anywhere. From any race, religion, or culture. Addiction does NOT discriminate.

By Laken