Our Story

My Journey to Sobriety: Finding Hope, Healing, and Community

Before COVID hit, before the world shut down, and before my life completely unraveled, there were already signs that alcohol had a hold on me. I didn’t have an off switch when I drank. One drink was never just one. Even when I wasn’t drinking, addictive behaviors showed up in other ways: trying to fix, manage, and control everyone and everything around me.

Looking back, I can see that God kept my drinking at bay for as long as He could—long enough for me to raise my kids and keep life together on the surface. But the seeds of addiction were already there, quietly growing, waiting for the perfect storm.

When the Storm Hit

Then COVID hit. In 48 hours, I lost the business I had poured myself into. I didn’t pass my real estate renewal test. And my mother fell and broke her hip. Life was spinning out of control, and I couldn’t understand how I was supposed to hold it together.

The only places open were grocery stores and liquor stores—and that’s where my drinking took over. I was locked in my house, homeschooling three kids, caring for my mother, and trying to survive. I started drinking earlier and earlier just to numb the pain. Was it right? No. But I couldn’t see another way out.

I tried random jobs to keep food on the table, but nothing felt stable. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and desperate to escape, I made a decision: after my son graduated high school, my mom and I would move to Florida. In that alcoholic haze, it felt like a fresh start.

Hitting Rock Bottom

I bought a house over FaceTime, thinking I was solving my problems. I wasn’t. The house was rented, which seemed smart at the time, but it became a nightmare just to get the tenant out. And then, in October 2022, my mom passed away.

Even though I knew it wasn’t the right time, I pushed forward with the move. I sold my home in Chicago in 2023 and moved to Florida—a place I had visited once and where I knew no one.

The moment I arrived, everything fell apart. I had a full nervous breakdown. I had left everyone and everything I cared about behind. I hated it. I sat on the floor of that house, drinking from morning until night. I lasted two weeks.

A friend came down, helped me pack, and I drove back to Chicago with my dogs—no plan, nowhere to live, and no idea how to fix my life. My kids didn’t know how to help me. I didn’t know how to help myself.

By the grace of God, I met a realtor in Florida who sold the house for me. But inside, I was completely lost, broken, and pretending my mom’s death was the reason I had fallen apart. That was easier to say. But deep down, I knew the truth: alcohol had taken over long before that.

The Turning Point

I stopped drinking on my own for four months. I found a house. I started piecing my life back together. But I was miserable. Angry. Empty. I didn’t understand why, so I picked up a drink again. And it got bad fast. Bottles of wine every night. Hiding it. Pretending I was fooling everyone when really I was only fooling myself.

Mother’s Day became my breaking point. I wanted my kids to leave so I could drink. That’s when I knew something had to change. I called my brother-in-law, who was in AA, and for the first time, I said, “I need help.”

That call saved my life.

Finding Hope and Community

That’s where my sobriety journey truly began. I jumped in with both feet. I listened to what people told me to do. I kept coming back. I did service work. And I sat in rooms where people shared my story. I wasn’t alone. I had finally found a solution.

AA gave me the foundation to stay sober. Therapy helped me tell the truth about my drinking. I rebuilt my relationship with God. I started healing my body with nutrition. Little by little, I began rebuilding myself—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

I also realized how fortunate I was. I had support, people who cared, and a home to go to every night. Many people I meet in AA don’t have that. They are fighting the same battle I fought, but without stability, without family, and without a safe place to land.

They’ve shared what they’re struggling with—homelessness, toxic environments, families who don’t understand, and the crushing isolation that comes with trying to stay sober alone. Their honesty showed me how critical the community really is. Some people simply cannot achieve sobriety without a strong, sober support system. They need safe housing, accountability, structure, and people who truly understand the journey.

My Mission

By the grace of God, I am sober today.

And now, my mission is clear: to help others find what I found. Hope. Healing. Community. A path forward—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

I tell my story so someone else might see themselves in it and know they are not alone. There is a way out. There is a way home.