20 Years Free From Heroin: The Unprocessed Truth About My Recovery

A Little Disclaimer Before We Begin:

This is MY story, MY experience, and what has worked for ME. I'm sharing my personal journey, not offering advice or suggesting that anyone make changes to their own recovery or mental health treatment. What works for one person may not work for another, and that's okay. Everyone's path is different, and I fully respect that.

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get into it…

October 15, 2006, life as I knew it would never be the same. And thank fucking God, because being a heroin addict was horrible. But here I am, alive and well, and ready to share my journey.

If you read my previous journal entry, Coming Out of the Spiritual Closet, you know a little bit about my history with drug use. To recap, I started experimenting with drugs at a young age to numb and hide parts of myself I wasn't comfortable sharing. I shoved my real identity way down deep and used drugs to cope with not feeling accepted. Read that entry here.

In my early 20s, I was a full-blown heroin addict, and by October of 2006, I had been to countless detoxes and rehabs. I can't tell you what was so different about this particular go-around at rehab. When I think about it now, I feel like I knew deep down that my work here on Earth wasn't finished, and I needed to heal so I could help others.

I have always been open and honest about my struggles, and my addiction is no different.

I wanted to share a bit about my path and how, 20 years later, I am still comfortable talking about my not-so-linear journey and the unconventional choices that led me to where I am today.

I spent the early years of my recovery in AA/NA. Did the whole 12-step thing, went to meetings, had sponsors, and everything else that came with this new way of life.

After a few years, I started to realize that AA/NA was not something I was connecting with anymore. I didn't hate it, but I definitely didn't love it, and I definitely didn't feel like it was necessary for me to continue my new way of life.

So I stopped going.

I dropped my sponsor, stopped attending meetings, and started living my new life in ways that better supported me.

Now, this was frowned upon. It was considered risky and was definitely not recommended. However, I was never one to give a shit about rules or continue doing things that didn't support what I wanted for myself.

I spent the next few years finding new ways to support my life after addiction. Eating healthier, exercising, and improving my mental health. Therapy helped a lot.

During those years, I was also navigating anxiety and depression, something I had struggled with long before getting off heroin. I had been prescribed different medications over the years, including antidepressants, to help manage my mental health. While these medications were intended to help, I eventually started questioning how they were making me feel.

For YEARS, I took these meds. Prozac, Zoloft, etc.

Eventually, I found myself feeling like a numb shell. I didn't feel good, and I didn't feel bad. I felt nothing, and I hated it.

I made the decision to come off these medications, and I didn't give a flying fuck who disagreed. I was able to come off all pharmaceuticals and started managing my anxiety and depression naturally. I am so grateful for my strength and my ability to make this change.

Disclaimer: This is MY story. I do not recommend coming off medication without talking to your doctor. What worked for me may not work for someone else.

Okay, back to the story.

So, fast-forward 13 years into my new life free from heroin addiction. I had been off all my medications for a while and had learned how to manage my anxiety and depression naturally, without pharmaceuticals, heroin, or anything else outside of my own strength and determination. I no longer wanted to feel bound by any substance.

And this is where my story becomes really unconventional.

After 13 years of complete sobriety, I knew I was NEVER going back to that old life as a heroin addict.

They say in AA/NA that you are never "recovered" from an addiction. Instead, you are always recovering.

I fucking disagree.

Anyways, after 13 years, I knew deep down that I was recovered, and there was absolutely nothing that would ever make me go back to that life. I had beautiful children and this whole new life to live.

After 13 years of sobriety, I decided I was safe enough to have an occasional glass of wine or whatever I felt like having at dinner with friends. I decided I was safe enough to partake in weed to help ease some of my insomnia and chronic pain.

I knew I was recovered from my addiction.

Fast-forward to now, and guess what?

I am STILL recovered from my heroin addiction. 20 years later I live to tell about it.

Even after drinking some wine and using some devil's lettuce.

I still use weed to help manage pain from my knee arthritis, ease my anxiety, and help me sleep. And let me tell you, as a perimenopausal woman, a gummy at bedtime can be my saving grace sometimes. At this point in my life, I'd much rather partake in some devil's lettuce than go back to taking Prozac or take pain pills. That's just what works for me. I can stop and start again whenever I choose. Sometimes I go months without it, knowing it's there if I need a little relief. However, I don't rely on it. Big difference.

I haven't had a drink of alcohol in probably over a year now, simply because I don't care about it. Honestly, alcohol was never really my thing anyway.

I have been able to remain free from heroin despite making choices that go against what I was taught in AA/NA and every single detox/rehab I ever attended.

Not only that, I know dozens of people who have similar stories. They can safely partake in adult beverages or some weed and not want to shoot heroin or take an Oxy.

Disclaimer: I do not recommend that anyone in recovery take this unconventional path. This is MY path, and I am simply sharing my story.

The reason I am sharing this with you is because I feel it's important to show that there isn't just one way to go about certain things.

You can choose the path that feels right for you and say, "Fuck society and what they expect me to do."

Twenty years ago, I was a completely different person. I was lost, disconnected from myself, and trying to numb everything I didn't know how to deal with. I had no idea what my life would look like 20 years later, or if I would even be here to see it.

And here I fucking am.

Has life been perfect? Absolutely not. I've made mistakes, started over more times than I can count, and had plenty of moments where I had no idea what the hell I was doing. But I've also built a beautiful life, found passions I never knew I had, and slowly found my way back to the person I spent so many years trying to hide.

And maybe that's the biggest part of this whole journey for me. It wasn't just about getting off heroin. It was about learning who I was without it. Learning to trust myself, make my own decisions, and stop looking outside of myself for permission to live my life the way I wanted.

I don't share my story because I think my way is the right way. I share it because I know how easy it is to feel like you're doing something wrong when your path doesn't look like everyone else's.

AA/NA helped me during a time when I needed it, and I know those programs have helped countless other people. But they weren't meant to be my forever, and that's okay.

Twenty years later, I don't define myself by my addiction. It's part of my story, but it's not my identity. I'm not the same person I was in 2006, and I don't believe I have to spend the rest of my life identifying as someone who is still recovering from something I left behind two decades ago.

I'm proud of the woman I've become. Not because I've figured everything out, because trust me, I fucking haven't. But because I finally feel comfortable being myself, even when that version of me doesn't fit into anyone else's expectations.

So here's to 20 years free from heroin and drug addiction. Twenty years of living, learning, fucking up, growing, changing, and figuring things out as I go.

And most importantly, twenty years of getting to live a life I almost didn't have.

That's something worth celebrating.