Kristyn

I knew I had a drug problem when I sold all my mother’s jewelry. I was watching television late one night when a commercial came on for a pawn shop. It felt like a light bulb went off when I heard the phrase, “CASH FOR GOLD”. I remember thinking *That is how I will get high tomorrow*. At this point, I was using every day, and was starting to experience some serious consequences. However, it was not until I found myself sobbing at a pawn shop that I knew I was in serious trouble. Now let us back track, I grew up in a small town in Upstate New York. I was a shy little girl with a big imagination. I remember spending hours exploring the woods with my Labrador retriever, Hershey, and crafting with construction paper in the toy room. I had big dreams of becoming an artist. I pictured myself working in a studio, covered in paint, working on a masterpiece. “Who do you want to be?” was never a question for me, I was certain I was destined for greatness and I was ready to grow up and get started. Sadly, my daydreaming and innocence came to a screeching halt one day in September. I remember sitting in the bay window of the toy room. I had to climb on a chair to sit in it, and I was crying, calling for my mother. My father started to approach me down the long hallway. He said nothing and just walked towards me. Once he was close, he said, “she’s gone.” and walked away. That was the day I understood what it all meant, and that day I shattered. My mother lost her battle with Breast Cancer when I was six years old. I must have repressed memories of her because I only have two. The first one is of her laying on the living room couch under a crotched blanket; and the second is when I asked her if I could keep a little nurse statue, I found in a kitchen drawer. Growing up, I kept a shrine of all her things. I treated them as if they were relics that held her soul. I desperately wanted a glimpse of who my mother was, and I felt like those items gave me a glimmer of her. So, when I sold her rings and her necklaces, I felt like I had lost her all over again. Fast forward, I used and used and used. My twenties are a complete blur with scattered painful memories. As an adult, I wore the badge of a motherless childhood and used it to justify my use for most of my life. Using drugs became my only outlet and I convinced myself that I would always be this broken. However, that is not the case. Today, I am a grateful recovering addict, and I have not found a reason to use since January 9th, 2017. I surrender to the fact that I have no control once I put a substance in my body, and that I will never be able to use successfully again. After going to treatment for over a year I found my tribe in 12-step meetings. I learned how to ask for help and how to help when asked. I learned how to keep it in the day and to not use no matter what. Today, I am a Certified Recovery Peer Advocate for Second Chance Opportunities which is a Recovery Community Center located in Albany. Today, I am an aunt, a daughter, a sister, and an artist. I am trustworthy, loyal, compassionate, empathetic, creative, funny, and loving. I am moving towards the person I was always meant to be, and I know I am becoming a woman my mother would be proud of.