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Addiction can affect anyone, regardless of race, gender identity, age, geographic location, sexual orientation or income. Recovery is possible through the support of community, and when loved ones recognize and end the shame and judgment of substance use disorders. Watch and read Colorado stories about individuals who broke down the barriers to treatment and overcame stigma to find recovery for themselves or loved ones. I started to party in my early 20s. I tried to escape the party lifestyle by moving away. Unfortunately, I had a boyfriend who introduced me to meth. I experienced homelessness and incarceration, eventually spending 30 days in jail. A judge mandated my release as long as I went to live with my parents. But, they were supportive and willing to learn. This support was critical despite a few returns to use. My mom even wrote letters to the judge begging them to send me to treatment. The judge actually ended up ordering me to go back home and live with my parents. From there, I found a peer coach who gave me the strength to believe in myself. Once I saw what life could be like, I never found any desire to use substances again. Today, I have nearly four years in recovery, which has given me the ability to help others as a peer recovery coach and gain full custody of my son again. I get to be alive, I get to be free. I try to share my experiences and hope by advocating for those who cannot advocate for themselves. The best advice I can give to those struggling with addiction is to love yourself and not let shame keep you from the help you deserve. My relationship with substance use began at an early age. I grew up in a household where alcohol was always present, and I tried alcohol for the first time at age five. Although I was using substances, I was able to keep my life together for a while. I was also in the midst of a codependent and unhealthy relationship while also struggling with anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. At the time, I had a friend in recovery who was in a sober living situation. She just so happened to call on me on one of my darkest days. She said I was deserving and worthy to live this life. And that I should ask for help. That moment was such a big relief for me. It inspired me to choose life. From there, I was able to get in touch with a step program, where my journey to recovery from alcohol and polysubstance use started. The recovery community played a really strong role in my story. I experienced a lot of loss in a very short amount of time. It was tempting to numb myself, but the recovery community was able to support and empower me through the grief. Recovery has taught me how to love myself and others with substance use disorder and how to create healthy boundaries while offering hope. One of my goals in recovery is to offer my time to others in need, provide hope, and encourage change. For those who are still struggling with active addiction, embrace the light and push out the darkness of addiction. I struggled with substance use in my teenage years. My use began as a tool for me to fit in, to feel like I belonged to a community. In time, it became a coping mechanism, often looking to alcohol when things were difficult, which caused a lot of negative impacts in my life. I found myself at age 26 going through the cycle of losing everything, and finally it came to the day where my partner set a boundary in our lives that I needed to get help, or I would be out of his life and out of a home. This free resource provided me access to therapy, where I was encouraged to attend recovery support meetings. Initially, I hesitated to attend a meeting in my small town because I was scared of being judged, but my partner accompanied me, and the overwhelming support and love I received from the group was amazing. All of my fear went away when I walked into the room. Everyone was genuinely happy to meet me. After engaging in a traditional program of recovery for several months, I was inspired to explore the broader realm of recovery. I discovered a wonderful community that encouraged me to define recovery for myself and forge a path fit for me. Around this time, the loss of a close friend to an overdose deepened my commitment to the recovery community, both for my own healing and to support others. Discussing loss and working to shift the stigma and language around addiction became crucial components of my recovery journey. My partner was an incredible support system—he gave up alcohol before I did, supported me when I had a return to use, and was very patient with me. Today, I remain deeply involved in the community as a leader in a Recovery Community Organization. One of my favorite things about my recovery is the accountability I developed in the process. I love being a person that my family, friends, and neighbors can count on. I follow through when I commit to being there for someone. I am honest with myself and the people around me. Most importantly, I am accountable to myself, knowing my capabilities and limits, yet pushing my comfort zone to continually grow as an individual and a community member. I come from a full-scope family medicine background, including everything from labor and delivery to pain to substance use. I thought I could make the biggest impact at the intersection of substance use, mental health, and marginalized communities. There are serious issues with how addiction and treatment are viewed in society and by the medical community. Second, the same structural and systemic inequalities that exist in every other part of society are amplified in addiction and mental health treatment. Treatment can feel non-inclusive for communities experiencing vulnerabilities. I want to break down these systemic barriers, creating easily accessible treatment services that make everyone feel seen and heard. Without question, this is the work that gets me out of bed in the morning, that drives me to spend my days educating, advocating, and building towards change. Andrea works in the food industry, and her step-mother, Angela, works at a counseling center, connecting those struggling with people who are familiar with the recovery process. Both are in recovery. Her substance use made motherhood and custody of her two children difficult. Eventually, Andrea found out she was expecting her third child. The news sparked a desire for change, and she began her journey of recovery. Andrea stopped her substance use and worked long hours all while carrying her child. Even though Angela is 20 years older than Andrea, Angela explained that they could relate on many levels. They would have long conversations, and Angela being in recovery herself provided a base for their communication. Angela considers her openness to be one of the most important things she was able to provide. Angela sends Andrea supportive gestures like inspirational books around the holidays. Andrea remarks how helpful it is to read some quotes of inspiration when she needs it. Angela added the importance of connection and considers it to be something everyone needs forever. Angela and Andrea continue to support each other. Andrea advises those struggling to always reach out to someone—having a partner or someone to talk to allows her to feel hope and talk about her emotions. My family had a history of substance use disorder. Growing up around it was stressful and emotional. My parents divorced when I was 15, and I struggled with feelings of abandonment. I did a lot of partying in high school, eventually dropping out and I started drinking more and more. I ended up having two beautiful boys in my twenties. When we moved to Colorado, I met my future husband. He had two children of his own. Together, we created one big family. At the time, I was still drinking heavily, but I was still functioning. I had no interest, no genuine interest of my own. In , I finally had my last drink. I joined support groups and did the work to find recovery. It showed me how to help my family and also how to help myself. The communication skills you learn help the entire family. CRAFT has brought so much to my life, like communicating with loved ones without accusations, being kind to someone in the recovery process, setting boundaries, and caring for myself without taking on the consequences of others. CRAFT is open to all friends and families who care for someone who is struggling with a substance use disorder. If you have substance use disorder in your family, there are ways to address it and become the family you need, and want, to be. I think that what the world needs is just openness and vulnerability. When I was a kid, I looked different from everyone else. They made fun of me, and I spent a lot of time alone. When I got to high school, I wanted to fit in, so I started smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol, and eventually using drugs. Over time, in my 20s, 30s, and 40s, I struggled deeply with addiction to crack cocaine. I experienced homelessness and loneliness, and spent time in and out of the judicial system. A few things helped my recovery journey. But more than that, it was my spirituality that rescued me. My relationship with God saved me. He was there for me whenever I was in my lowest moments, struggling with addiction, or feeling like I might give in to temptation. I felt as though He made changes in my life and provided guidance behind the scenes to help me find recovery. I use my spirituality and lived experiences to share empathy and kindness with those in need. We go to movies, to the park, and have sleepovers. When I speak to those still struggling, I try to cover those essential bases. I ask them if they need a job and help them find work. I faced a lot of adversity from a very young age. My family moved a lot, I encountered racism, and several family members sexually abused me. By the time I was 21, I had four children. Abusive relationships led to drug usage, leading to criminal activity and incarceration. This cycle of addiction and incarceration, which lasted ten years, eventually cost me custody of my children. During my last imprisonment, I decided enough was enough. On top of my own will to change, I had some inspiration from a pretty unexpected source: Michelle, a corrections officer at the prison, was fostering my eldest son. She treated me with grace and respect, allowed me to see my kids when I was released, and helped me work through the process of reclaiming custody. The kindness I experienced and my experiences with drug and sexual abuse fuel my passion and led me to create an organization that helps women and transwomen suffering from addiction, PTSD, domestic violence, and unresolved trauma, as well as start a transitional sober living home. I live every day as a role model for the possibility of rebuilding your life after active addiction and incarceration. My substance use started at a young age. I had a lot of older friends and very little supervision. Eventually, I found myself using methamphetamine, or meth. Sometimes, it was to stay awake for work; other times to party. It started to take over my life. I had periods of recovery where I could stay away from it. But then, something like a bad relationship would cause me to use again. A big turning point came after I made a mistake while injecting meth. My hand swelled up huge. I ended up in the hospital with doctors telling me I might lose my hand. They were able to save my hand, but that experience scared me. And I got a rare opportunity. Because I was healing in the hospital, it was like a detox in a safe environment. I used that safe space and my faith to create positive change in my life. My lived experiences have made me a good advocate and helping hand for others. I get what someone is going through, what they are struggling with, what they fear, and what they need. You might quit in one day, but recovery can last forever. I come from a family with a history of substance use. My father struggled with alcohol and prescription drug use, and I was profoundly affected by it. I had my own struggles with addiction and thankfully got into recovery for my substance use and mental health. My idea of recovery has changed so much over the years. I entered recovery through a step program, and now embrace a philosophy of many roads to recovery. Families attending CRAFT can learn how to support their loved ones while maintaining connection with them. The joy of recovery is in the journey, not the destination. I encourage family and friends to find their own life in recovery, whatever that means for them. No one recovers alone. My earliest experience with addiction was with my mother. She drank heavily, eventually passing away from cirrhosis of the liver. I was in middle school, and her death hit me hard. My substance use got more serious after high school. At the time, I just felt like I was living life and having fun. My addiction eventually led to incarceration. When I was first locked up, I thought I would just get out and keep doing exactly what I was doing. But having time to sit, I could reflect with a clear mind for the first time since I was a kid. My goals were something that helped guide me. I started small: my first goal was to stay out of prison. I could set goals and attain them. As a recovery navigator for a Colorado agency that serves people experiencing homelessness, my job is to offer recovery resources to those seeking change, as well as help curb recidivism by guiding people to education, employment, and housing resources. A lot of people have left that life, myself included. You can do this; you are capable. Friends and family members of those struggling with addiction are victims too, and I try to remind them of that. So, I always try to offer as many resources and options as possible to those friends and family members. And I remind them that boundaries are healthy for themselves and their loved ones. I refer to myself as an auntie-mommy. My niece struggled with methamphetamine use at a very early age. Using such a powerful substance at 16 affected her brain, so she was stunted emotionally. CRAFT taught me to speak to my niece in a way she was ready to hear. I learned to wait for the right time to talk to her and when to give feedback. When you can relate to somebody going through the same thing, you build a bond with people. I work with children with behavioral troubles, but I also do a podcast and have a charitable organization. My experiences with substance use come from my father. He had strict parents who felt a lot of pressure to keep up their appearances as a respectable family. His addiction grew stronger and stronger. He often stole to support his addiction. A formative memory for me was when he sold my school uniform on the day of a big test. Eventually, I moved to America. Before he passed away, I sat down with him to tell him how I felt and how he had hurt me. I have turned a sad story with my father into something positive. Today, I do social work with children and families in the community, and am pursuing a mental health license to be fully equipped to give families resources. I also raise funds to sponsor young people in Liberia struggling with addiction. We help them seek treatment and even help fund school and job training. I encourage them, and I share my story. I always knew I wanted to help people, and I thought the best way to do that would be as a police officer. My journey in law enforcement started in Aurora, CO, where I started as a regular officer and eventually worked my way up through the ranks. Over the years, my attitudes toward addiction, incarceration, and rehabilitation have changed. But a few things happened to me along the way. First, I was given a prescription for opioids after surgery and after just a few days, I could feel cravings. That was really eye-opening and helped me understand how addiction can begin for some people. So, I dedicated my career and my energy toward shifting attitudes within police departments, encouraging policy change, and educating people on how to combat the opioid crisis. Rather than sending an officer alone, we advocate for sending someone who works in mental health or the recovery field along with the officer to respond to calls where a mental health resource might be needed. These professionals can offer resources and treatment options that can lead to real change rather than incarceration. Naloxone is a life-saving opioid overdose reversal medication. Law enforcement professionals often arrive first on the scene of an overdose. Some people in the policing community resist this. Naloxone does just that. You can save their life and give someone a chance to find recovery. During my residency as a doctor, I loved spending time with expecting mothers, and at the same time, I became increasingly concerned about the opioid epidemic. First, they need both prenatal care and treatment for a substance use disorder. Second, these individuals face a lot of stigma from society for experiencing a substance use disorder and pregnancy simultaneously. There are a lot of misconceptions about pregnancy and substance use disorder. Lastly, people assume someone who is pregnant needs to detox right away. In actuality, this can be very dangerous. Instead, we need to provide harm-reducing options that keep both mother and child safe. For me, these questions reinforce the fact that a substance use disorder does not make you a bad parent. I can also offer treatment programs, resources and encouragement to people at a really important cross-road in their lives. And in return, they give me hope through their success stories and by witnessing their act as loving parents. I wanted to work in treatment after realizing there was a huge need. A lot of people are struggling with addiction, and not enough people are trained in treatment. Medications to treat opioid use disorder are exceptionally effective. These medications take care of the body and mind by combating cravings and reducing painful withdrawals. Treatment programs try to find the right medications for you based on your needs, and you are not locked into medication once you choose. Most programs offer other support like counseling, case management, and help finding a job. You will have a support system to help you set and achieve goals. Most treatment can be done through outpatient care, going to a treatment center to get medications regularly, and allowing you to go about your life. The goal with any treatment program you choose is to regain the life you envisioned for yourself. No one should feel shame for needing medication. If you know someone who judges the use of these medications, people in the treatment community can help them understand it. The cost of treatment may feel overwhelming, but there are more resources available than ever before. Applying is easy, and treatment centers will help you with your application. Other payment options could include working with your insurance or providing a sliding scale fee or grant funding to find the most affordable payment option. No one is turned away from treatment because of cost. I struggled with heroin addiction for 22 years. Along the way, I overdosed ten times, lost friends, and saved a lot of lives. As someone with a lot of experience with overdoses, I have seen firsthand the importance of naloxone. Our attitudes and language play a huge role as well. Tone and presence are important too; remaining calm, understanding and listening more than talking builds trust and leaves the door open for people who may not be ready to take the first step. Patience can be hard when you have a loved one struggling with addiction. But meeting people where they are at is critical. When someone is deep in their addiction, it can be hard to get through to them. I suspected my son was experimenting with drugs in high school, but never confronted him. When I finally confronted him, he admitted to using heroin and it was a very hard concept to swallow. He agreed to rehab, and we checked him into an inpatient program the next day. Eventually, he moved to heroin as it was cheaper and easier to get. He did inpatient rehab for months and has been in recovery, and taking Suboxone, ever since. Unfortunately, he still experiences prejudice after all these years when he mentions he continues to manage his recovery with medications. The same held true for me: talking to others about what I was feeling gave me strength to face what he was going through. I feel beyond lucky to have my son back, doing well and living his life. My journey to becoming a peer recovery coach started while I was still in jail. I was enrolled in a few programs, and one of those introduced the peer support program. I knew I wanted to change my circumstances, so I applied to be a peer recovery coach while I was still in jail. The organization I applied to told me to get in touch when I was released. It gave me a chance to make a career for myself in a situation where it can be hard to find opportunity. The good news is, I was able to shape the program because it was so new. I had the chance to go from a peer recovery coach to overseeing other coaches and directing grant funding for peers. In peer recovery, everyone is a person first. Labeling someone by their diagnosis is one of the most dehumanizing things you can do. That part is about improving the structures in place to help those struggling with substance use disorder and, in my case, advocating for more tools, training, and resources for my fellow peer recovery coaches. As a peer recovery coach, you have to be a good role model. Your actions have a ripple effect. When the community sees your success and effort to help others, they want to invest, so being a good role model has this snowball effect. The evidence is out there that peer counseling works, which can have this multiplying effect. Supporting this line of work is one of the best tools we have to help people with substance use disorders. I took an unusual path in this field; I started as a firefighter, which connected me to the first responder community and eventually led me to work in the emergency department ED as an EMT. I felt a sense of purpose immediately and went to school to become a nurse. Working in the ED, I saw the extent of the opioid crisis. People came to us for help, but we lacked the resources, process and institutional knowledge to help. The more I learned about it, the more I saw its efficacy and the positive benefits on patients as they found treatment and recovery. Seeing the power of MOUD firsthand is incredible. These patients have been fighting for their lives, struggling to give thought to anything else. The first time they receive these medications, they start thinking about their lives again, their health and their futures. I felt this was a good thing. Today, attitudes are much different. Many doctors and nurses see the benefits and treat substance use disorder the way they would treat anything else. But there are still minds to change. As a society, we created the stigma around substance use disorder. My first experiences with drugs and alcohol were at a very young age and were often encouraged by family members. Experimenting with drugs eventually became a habit, including stealing cocaine from my mom and missing school. After graduating high school, I started using meth and got arrested. After being arrested for selling meth, I went to inpatient treatment, and this was when things turned around for me. Through treatment and self-reflection, I was able to find recovery and keep my children. Today, I am a peer recovery coach, offering emotional support, motivation, and encouragement to others who are still struggling with addiction. You have to stay positive in your tone and your mindset. You have to try your best to be physically, mentally, and emotionally present. We have to think about what they need and what they are going through. Peer recovery coaches need to be good role models because everything you do in the community is watched. Your successes represent hope for others. Honesty is the foundation of change. I got started as a peer recovery coach because I had the mindset that I wanted to be able to help just one person. I knew I wanted to get into the world of treatment and counseling after witnessing the courage that recovery took, especially with the obstacles like cost and lack of support. This field offers this really rewarding intersection of medical and behavioral health. There is no single way to help people struggling with a substance use disorder. We are all individuals and we need to be treated this way when it comes to medical issues. We offer our patients options like harm reduction and support programs, as well as medications. Sadly, stigma exists even within the mental health field. Second, not everyone who struggles with a substance use disorder is going to lie. But most importantly, when you refuse to treat people with substance use disorder, you leave them without essential support. I believe substance use and mental health issues should be treated similarly, especially because they often go hand-in-hand. Luckily, for behavioral health professionals, the medications for treating addiction are incredibly effective. The fentanyl crisis is staggering. Fentanyl test strips offer one way for people to be informed so they can use safely, an important part of a harm reduction approach. That misconception leads to the idea that we must come down hard on people rather than be empathetic. But this mindset has not proved effective or productive. Instead, we need to acknowledge our fears. When we are responsible for that, we can approach the evidence and data to find the right solutions. Rather than criminalizing addiction, we need a multi-pronged approach. We still need to address the flow of illegal substances into communities. But we also need to practice harm reduction by offering medication, counseling and naloxone. We have a program in our jail that provides medications and therapy to treat addiction, giving people a chance to fight their addictions and become whole. We also have a robust co-responder program: an initiative to pair Deputies with mental health professionals for certain calls, bringing safety and mental health expertise to the field. This program has been successful in stabilizing people in the community and getting individuals the help and treatment they need. If you are a law enforcement leader, getting community buy-in for these programs is essential. Working with community leaders and experts in the treatment, mental and public health fields will make your programs more effective and inclusive. Just like we have established in mental health, there should be no wrong door for people struggling with substance use disorders to get what they need. Having a range of options betters your chances of getting people the help they need. As law enforcement officials, our job is to protect life. I had my first drink at seven years old, and I liked it. I started drinking heavily in high school. My younger years were all about having a good time. Through my twenties and thirties, I racked up DUIs and started spending time in jail and prison. I found recovery at times, I had two years at one point, but I would continue to return to drugs and alcohol. Eventually, I called my sister and told her I was sick and needed help. I was able to see the connection between my actions and my problems with the justice system. Treatment gave me community and purpose. I found friends and a support network. In addition, I realized I had a gift. That fun personality that had made me the life of parties has found a true purpose. I help others get on the right track. But I have the tools I need to get through it. And I know people are counting on me: my children, my wife, and all the people I regularly guide and mentor. I first experienced addiction after coming out as a lesbian and facing social rejection from my friends. I tried marijuana and immediately knew that drugs would be a way to cope. In and after college, I had a series of knee surgeries that gave me access to opioids. My combination of drugs gave me blackouts, which is actually what led me to recovery. I was driving in the middle of a blackout, and I rear-ended someone. The incident led to my arrest, and more importantly, an ex-girlfriend visiting me and convincing me to seek treatment. I thought if I cleared my system of drugs, I would be fine. After a few weeks in treatment, I realized I did have a problem. In some ways, this was relieving; I understood why my life looked the way it did. More importantly, I knew there was a solution. Treatment and the recovery community introduced me to so many essential relationships. I found people I could call on and people who would help me. My work helping others struggling with addiction has enhanced my life and given me extra purpose. I was born with metabolized cocaine in my system and was immediately taken away from my mother. Being adopted really did something to my heart and my mind. When I was young, I never felt like I could be loved, and I never felt like my adopted family was my real family. I had a challenging relationship with my mother, especially when I would get in trouble. This was hard because of her eternal willingness to love me unconditionally. The stigma of being adopted made growing up very difficult for me, and I started partying at a very young age. As I grew older, I started using harder drugs. Throughout my twenties, I followed a similar pattern. Things in my life would get better, but then I would experience a personal loss—the death of a girlfriend, a friend, and my father—which would send me spiraling. This led to incarceration, and I spent a lot of my younger years in and out of jail. Imprisonment kept me from family and important life events and helped me see the importance of forming meaningful memories with those I love. She knew someone who worked in addiction treatment, so I got in touch with her. I was able to see my potential as a human being and my potential to be better. I knew I needed to break away from the people who brought me down. Learning from others and my own experiences, I recognized my story might have some value for others who are struggling, and wanted to pass on my lessons learned. I started life out as a goody-two-shoes with two loving parents. But, a troubled relationship with my brother made me feel unworthy and unloved. I tried alcohol and marijuana at just fourteen years old and meth by nineteen. I was in and out of treatment programs four times over the next few years with varying levels of success. During that time, I had a son and eventually got married. Unfortunately, my new husband and I began using heroin. In a short period, my mother passed away, I lost custody of my son and my husband went to jail. This period was the lowest in my life. I considered suicide. It was through those dark thoughts that I knew I was ready for recovery. I used Suboxone to fight cravings while my probation officer helped me get into a treatment program at Oxford House. The combination of medications for treating addiction and the program at Oxford House opened new doors in my life. It was believed that he contracted HIV by using needles with his five younger brothers, my father was the eldest of them all and throughout my childhood, I watched four of my uncles and many others get sick and die one right after the other. In , I had my daughter who was diagnosed with Down syndrome. I came to the realization that I was going to screw up her life like my own or it was time to make some changes. I was able to stop using meth, but I was still struggling with opioid usage. At this point, I was raising my daughter and her four half siblings. I knew I needed help, but I felt stigmatized by caseworkers, probation officers and my own family and friends. I felt scared that if I asked for help, they would take the children away from me. I finally sought out medications for treating addiction, despite some of my family feeling I was just trading one drug for another. At the treatment center, I met someone I could relate to. Marie was the only Brown face in the recovery center that I was able to connect to—she looked like me, talked like me, and had similar experiences to my own. It was because of her that I kept coming back. I want to pass along what she has done for me, so today I wear many hats in our community advocating for change. I am a certified peer recovery coach and peer specialist who helps empower women living with HIV and people who struggle with substance dependency to educate, support each other and change policy at the levels that impact everyone. My first experience with substances came at an early age when I drank alcohol for the first time in seventh grade. In my early twenties, I had multiple knee surgeries, which came with an opioid prescription. Daily use led to addiction, and things began to spiral. Over the years, I had periods of sobriety. From this situation, I found pathways to recovery. One of those pathways was that I received court-ordered rehab. I was also able to do some evaluation of myself as a person and how I wanted to share myself with the world. Having a supportive partner was hugely helpful. My support system, competitive nature, dedication to working on my sobriety and being myself have given me a new life. Today, I own a natural pet market and dog wash, I spend time volunteering to do outreach, and I focus on my sobriety. Tragedy and not feeling like myself sent me down a dark path that carried me into addiction. My struggles with addiction started in high school. When I was 19, I was involved in an alcohol-related car crash that killed my friend and sent me to jail. When I got out, I was full of shame and guilt. I was coping using drugs and alcohol to numb those feelings. My life started to slip away; I lost my wife, kids, and home. From there, my disease continued to spiral out of control. The opioid addiction got worse, and soon I was doing other drugs. I was homeless and selling drugs to fuel my addiction. Thankfully, I hit a point where I was sick of being sick. I was willing to do whatever it took to change. My probation officer allowed me to go to a free treatment facility, and it was the beginning of a new life. With the help of a twelve-step program, a sponsor, and spirituality, I was able to start peeling back the layers of guilt and shame surrounding the accident, losing my family, and my addiction. I wanted to share that freedom with others and change lives. I now work with high school kids who struggle with addiction, and help them recover, one day at a time. This left me feeling unwanted and meant I was spending a lot of time on my own. At the age of 12, I was out until all hours and had started trying drugs. By 17, I was homeless and had been sexually assaulted, leading to pregnancy. This situation crushed my sense of self-worth, and I started getting involved in drinking and drugs. When I had my twin daughters at 20, I tried to get my act together. But my existing medical conditions gave me access to pain medications. Between the addiction and my health, I ended up too sick to work. Prescription opioids eventually led to heroin. My situation continued to spiral over the years. I lost my children, my husband, and my house. I wanted to give up. I started committing crimes to feed my addiction. I was investigated and charged with distribution of heroin, among other charges, and was facing five years in prison. After a lot of pleading, a judge agreed to let me go to treatment instead of jail. I started in rehab and moved on to sober living, where I stayed for a year. And then the best thing happened to me. Right before my kids turned eighteen, I got custody of them again. I want them to feel that same feeling I felt when I started loving myself. My family had a long history of drug and alcohol use. By twelve, I was smoking weed and occasionally drinking with friends. I was good at a lot: school, sports, making connections. By high school, I was dealing drugs because they were accessible, and it took the financial burden off my mom. I had the chance to go to college, but I turned it down because my girlfriend was pregnant. I was trying really hard to be a father and create a family, but I fell apart when my girlfriend moved away. There were opportunities and periods of positivity, but closing doors and loneliness sent me down a path of self-destruction. Over the next few years, I struggled with reckless behaviors, unfortunate luck, and institutional injustice. I was in and out of prison and fluctuating between sobriety and addiction. Finally, I knew I had to ask for treatment help. I knew I had to accept everything. So, I reached out for support. Not only did this help me find recovery, but it gave me the strength to do more. My family is no stranger to addiction—a close family member has struggled for over 30 years. My first experiences with opioids were in high school at age At 16, my family member could tell I was going through withdrawal and shot me up with heroin. Two years later, I was living in New York City as an escort. This lifestyle was high risk and involved a lot of extreme drug use and some really sketchy situations. Shortly after, I had my first overdose. A friend with Narcan saved my life. Three months later, a second overdose put me in the hospital and served as a wakeup call. My mother was really scared for me. Her fear that I would turn out like my family member motivated me to get better. I started antivirals for HIV and quit using opioids cold turkey. I was lucky. I had family that could help me through recovery, and I had friends who cared about my health and advocated for me. In my story, information was key. When I was diagnosed, I thought I was going to die. But learning about HIV and addiction treatment shed light on hope and allowed me to accept care and help from others. Growing up homeschooled, I struggled with feelings of separation from others and feeling uncomfortable in social situations. I also really wanted to go to school with other kids. I started working and stopped feeling like I needed to involve my family in things. At sixteen, my cousin started bringing me around to parties, introducing me to those social interactions I was craving. But this also came with drinking and occasionally using party drugs. By eighteen, I had switched to opioids. Bad relationships and low self-esteem allowed prescription opioid use to turn to heroin. My parents helped me get into a treatment facility, but I soon relapsed. I experienced this a lot; I would go to treatment, get sober, then relapse. Then, in , I got pregnant with my first child, Gideon. This was when I decided I had to get serious about recovery and started using methadone. I struggled throughout the pregnancy, but I was sober before his birth with the help of methadone, and luckily, he was born drug-free. I struggled with mental wellness and some traumatic events that escalated my sense of isolation going into high school. I started using OxyContin, but was using heroin soon after — I was 14 and desperate for anything that would make me feel like I was OK. Through high school and into college, I was careful not to get caught or be a part of the drug scene. Yet inside, I was deeply ashamed of my addiction. Then I relapsed, and the shame that I felt about relapsing almost killed me. Luckily, I have friends who were patient and made my life joyful, and that helped me stay sober. The addiction puts you in a bad place. Just having to need it all the time to get going, to do anything—I hated it. In time, I just got fed up. So, I got on methadone. I started using heroin recreationally in high school. My family was unaware that I was using until my first overdose. They were shocked, but very supportive and put me through treatment. Nothing they tried seemed to work, and it got to the point where they felt like they were out of options. I left and started living on the streets of Chicago. I did that for two years before getting treatment. I ended up relapsing. Shortly after that, I was driving high on Xanax and heroin, and killed someone in a car accident. I served five years in an Illinois prison. I used physical fitness, meditation and a step program to shift my focus and surround myself with a positive support system in prison. When I got out, my family saw the change in me. It took a lot of time to rebuild that trust and see that I was serious about it. But for those who are struggling, l can share my experience and show how those stigmas can be crushed. Those are things that I never thought were possible for me. Eventually, I started using heroin because it was cheaper. I hid it really well up until I had to get treatment. My mom knew I had been dabbling in weed and drinking, but was shocked when my heavy drug use came to surface. My parents tried everything to keep me grounded and control what I was doing. I think one of the misconceptions was that I was choosing this, and in a lot of ways, I was. But chemically, it got to the point where it was no longer a choice. I eventually ran out of money and came back home, and it was seeing the pain of withdrawal that really changed how my mom saw addiction. I was violently ill, and my mom was my nurse. From that point, she was ready to do whatever it took to help me recover. Once I had her support, that was when I finally realized that I needed to recover for my own well-being. He was arrested for stealing money to buy heroin, and when I bailed him out of jail, he told me about his opioid addiction and that he wanted help. He got on Suboxone and then into a sober living house, which was abstinence-based. The treatment worked for a while; he was working at the sober living home and helping others into recovery. But once he moved out and tried living sober on his own, he started drinking again. I stay focused on loving him unconditionally, and instead of being part of the problem by judging him, I continue to support him, and hope he can find lasting recovery. My brother Ola passed away when he was 22 from opioid addiction. We had a traumatic childhood, and starting at an early age, substances were his escape, especially prescription pills. His addiction became noticeable in high school. Things had always come easy for him—whether it was sports or studies—but then he got a DUI, and my family struggled to figure out how to support him. We pressured him to get sober, which I think made him feel a lot of shame. After the DUI, I was worried most about him getting arrested or going to jail and how that might impact his future. This was before the whole opioid crisis really came to light; I never considered that my brother might lose his life to opioid addiction. And when his obituary omitted that it was an overdose, I had a lot of grief, but also shame about it. We were part of a tight-knit community, and I remember a teacher who was well-respected coming up to us a few months after Ola passed and laying down all this shame and hate about my brother, saying he was an example of how not to live. It was very upsetting and unfair to his memory, people judging him and our family without understanding addiction at all. I started using heroin in high school at sixteen years old. I held a 3. Eventually, my mom searched my room and found my needles and spoons, and my family gave me the gift of an intervention on my nineteenth birthday. I could not have been blessed with a more understanding mother—she never stopped supporting me. Although many family members struggled with accepting my disease and viewed me as a criminal which in some aspects was true , my time in treatment changed their perspective. While I was in treatment; we had to do a family weekend, and my family started to scratch the surface of understanding and began to support my recovery. We all healed, and now our relationships are more meaningful than I could have ever imagined! My mother suffered from chronic pain, and in my mid-teens I started experimenting with her leftover medications. Opioids gave me that feeling of being safe. This eventually led to in-depth heroin use, and very nearly robbed me of my life. My parents noticed my drug use, but took limited action. In the years that followed treatment, my family and I have learned a lot about the reality of my addiction. Recovery is absolutely possible. My husband, Timothy, was a paratrooper in Iraq, and he was overprescribed opioids by his Army doctors after knee surgery. The opioids helped with the physical pain, but he continued taking the pills because they also numbed his emotional pain. It got so bad that he needed to take them just to get out of bed. For so long I was only focused on helping him in his opioid addiction, but at some point, I realized that I needed to prioritize taking care of myself and our daughter. So, I took her and moved in with my parents, but I let him know that he had my love and support when he was ready to get treatment. One day he called me, out of opioids and in terrible pain from withdrawal, and told me he was considering suicide. I got him admitted to the VA hospital, and he was put on a treatment plan that combined Suboxone with outpatient therapy. During his recovery, we both joined support groups at our church, where we have a shame-free support system and now know that we are not alone. But the attraction that kept me continuing to take them, even past the injury, was in how opioids helped cover for the PTSD symptoms, depression and anxiety that I have. It started off slowly, but then my tolerance and everything increased, so I needed more for them to work. Withdrawals would kick in if I tried to get off them. Eventually, I had no choice but to start buying pills off the street. I tried to conceal what I was doing, but after six months or so, I decided it was time to get treatment. My wife knew what I was going through based on my previous experience with substance abuse, and was very supportive when I started methadone treatments. My mind is much clearer now, and my body is getting healthier all the time. Using drugs was my attempt to cover up a lot of the anxiety, depression and anger issues I had. Within six months of first trying heroin, I was using it daily, which was expensive. I eventually got arrested for stealing electronics from a neighbor to pay for heroin, and went to jail for six months. I was doing well, so I thought I could drink and smoke weed, but I ended up in the cycle of opioid addiction again — pills at first, then back to heroin. I was close to being homeless, and I remember taking a train and hearing a couple talk about addiction treatment. My mom was able to get me into treatment right away, and her support made all the difference. She sends me a smiley face at the same time every day. And knowing that I have support can make all the difference. People picked up a lot of bad habits over there. Mine was heroin; it helped numb me to what I was doing. When I got back from Vietnam, I tested positive for substance use, and they put me in a psychiatric hospital in Aurora, Colorado. I had to stay there for three months until my discharge came through. There were not many drug treatment centers then—places where you could seek therapy, or even get on a methadone program. Eventually I found a center where they were able to get me down to a treatable amount, to where it was like I was taking nothing compared to what I initially was. I was ready to face my addiction from a physical standpoint. From there, I really connected with my church, and with their help and prayers, I was able to finally break my chain of addiction. If you have a problem, seek help. I know what worked for me, it can work for you. My son Preston was a rising football star until he was shot eight times by a gang member outside of our house. He survived, and after visiting the hospital we went to a doctor who prescribed him Oxycontin. We thought the medication was OK if it was prescribed by a doctor, but he kept needing more opioids to manage his pain. When we realized there was a problem, we got him into a day rehab center where he started taking Suboxone, which helped manage his opioid addiction, but he was still in pain. We eventually found a solution that made the physical pain manageable, but he still struggled with addiction, emotional pain and PTSD. On June 21 of , he went to the doctor without me and got another prescription for Oxycontin. He passed away the next day. Losing my son was unbearable, but when I started talking about Preston to others, it helped. Resources are out there that can help them or someone they know. My issue with opioids started in my early 20s after receiving a morphine drip while in the hospital for a medical condition. The drip continued the whole time I was there, and I received a consistent supply of meds when I left. In the following years, when I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me and why I was so sick all the time, it was really hard to come to terms with the fact that I was physically addicted to opioids. As my tolerance rose, I needed more and more, and started buying pain medication off the streets. Eventually that progressed to heroin because it was just so much cheaper. Before I could ever get the inpatient treatment I needed, I lost my health insurance, and eventually spiraled back into things. I finally entered into a therapeutic community program in Colorado, and that is how I found long-term recovery. My parents shared my hopelessness and frustration. They were amazed at the lack of options I had when I wanted to get better. Now that our lives are very different, they both rally and advocate for people to gain access to treatment. Overcoming opioid use disorder is a lifelong journey, and Lift The Label has been fortunate to work with individuals in different stages of their recovery to share their personal stories. The path to recovery can involve recurrence of use and overdose, and these events can also be the reason someone decides to seek help. However, sometimes the battle with addiction or other circumstances result in the tragic loss of life. Their stories and advocacy efforts for people suffering from addiction live on. Explore Colorado Stories Addiction can affect anyone, regardless of race, gender identity, age, geographic location, sexual orientation or income. Michaela , Sterling, CO. There are many pathways to recovery. The recovery community walks alongside me on this healing journey. Supportive communities provide the fundamental connections all humans need. A beacon of hope, actively dismantling the barriers of stigma surrounding addiction. I want to break down these systemic barriers, creating easily accessible treatment services. There is so much hope and possibility in recovery. I remind them that they took an oath to protect life. One of the most encouraging things for someone struggling with addiction to hear is there are people who care. Meeting people where they are at is critical. I got started as a peer recovery coach because I wanted to be able to help just one person. More lives have been saved with this medication than any other type of treatment for OUD. Having support is important, and you might not realize you have it. When seeking help, you have to be vulnerable. Fear is not real. There are so many people available to help, you just have to ask. There are so many people out there available to help, you just have to ask. You need to break free of shame and guilt to experience recovery. And recovery helps you break free of shame and guilt. I want to help people see they can do the same thing I did. Every little success is a huge reason to celebrate. Only when you are honest with yourself, can true change take its course. People in your life will be advocates for you. They will ask questions and fight for you. The support of my family and a treatment facility that understood my needs are what got me through. A lot of it boiled down to none of us understanding what addiction was. I let him know that he had my love and support when he was ready to get treatment. I got introduced after being drafted to Vietnam. More Stories. In Memoriam Overcoming opioid use disorder is a lifelong journey, and Lift The Label has been fortunate to work with individuals in different stages of their recovery to share their personal stories.

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Leon buying Heroin

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Leon buying Heroin