Today I celebrate five years without alcohol—a milestone that once seemed impossible. My life used to be dominated by drinking, a destructive force that touched every part of who I was. Alcohol had me in a choke hold for over two decades. But through surrender, faith, and hard work, I broke free. This is the beauty of recovery: not just quitting alcohol, but rediscovering life, purpose, and peace.
I share this because someone out there can feel hopeless, stuck in addiction, unsure if change is possible. I want you to know it is. I am living proof.
Trapped in Alcohol Addiction
I took my first drink at 15—crème de menthe, stolen from my parents’ liquor cabinet. It wasn’t the taste that hooked me. It was the feeling: a numbing calm. I felt a temporary confidence I couldn’t find in myself. I was anxious, awkward, always trying to control things through perfectionism, but alcohol gave me a shortcut to relief. It quickly became my go-to solution for any discomfort.
In high school, alcohol had become a regular escape. It helped boost my confidence in social situations and forget my worries. Over the years, that need deepened. Every success in life came with a growing dependency on alcohol. Graduating university, building a teaching career, getting married, and becoming a mother were all accompanied by this dependency. Outwardly, I looked like I had it together. Privately, I was sinking.
I chased control in every area of my life: work, family, appearance—but alcohol was the one thing I couldn’t control. I told myself I wasn’t “that bad” because I wasn’t drinking daily or because I still held a job. But the truth was, when I drank, I lost control, every single time. My drinking episodes led to blackouts, bad decisions, and shame. And the cycle would start all over again.
Rehab, therapy, and hospital stays punctuated my life, yet nothing seemed to stick. I’d leave treatment programs with good intentions but return to drinking within weeks, sometimes days. Deep down, I wasn’t ready to let go of alcohol because I was terrified of facing life without it.
The Wake-Up Call
In July 2020, my recklessness caught up with me in the most sobering way. I was pulled over and charged with impaired driving. I spent hours in a cold, stark jail cell, hugging my knees and replaying every failure, every regret. I felt worthless—not just as a mother, wife, or daughter, but as a human being.
I was certain that my life was over. The shame was suffocating. Suicide, a thought that had crossed my mind before, now felt like an escape route I couldn’t dismiss.
But in that dark cell, something unexpected happened: a wave of calm and clarity washed over me. Despite my high blood alcohol level, no one was hurt that night. No collision, no casualties. That was nothing short of a miracle. It was as if God Himself had intervened.
That moment became my spiritual awakening. I felt an undeniable presence, a protection that I couldn’t ignore. It was clear: I’d been given another chance—not just to stay alive, but to truly live differently. I thanked God for sparing lives that night, including my own. I knew I couldn’t keep living the same way.
One Last Pull from Addiction
Yet addiction doesn’t let go easily. Just a week after my arrest, I caved one last time. I hitchhiked with a partially broken ankle just to get alcohol. I drank alone in a public washroom, staring at my reflection in disgust. The drink tasted bitter, empty. It didn’t offer relief—it only deepened my self-loathing.
That was my last drink. Five years ago today, I walked away from alcohol for good. All by the grace of God.
Embracing Surrender: The Path to Freedom
Sobriety, I’ve learned, isn’t just about willpower—it’s about surrender. It’s about admitting that alcohol had beaten me and that I couldn’t out-think, out-run, or out-control it on my own. I began working the 12 steps of recovery. These steps taught me that fear, not alcohol, had always been the root of my struggles. Fear of pain, of vulnerability, of not being enough.
Through faith, community, and consistent work, I found freedom. Fear no longer controls me. I’m not shackled by the need to numb or escape. And for the first time, I am truly here in my own life.
It’s not like quitting alcohol fixed everything overnight. I still had mental health struggles to face and healing to do. But giving up alcohol was the essential first step.
As my sobriety continued, my mind cleared. I began to see that my pain wasn’t meaningless—it was shaping me for a greater purpose. I thought of the Butterfly Effect: every event, even the painful ones, led me here. Without my exact past, I wouldn’t have my daughters. That truth gave me peace.
Living with Purpose
I stopped running from my story. I started sharing it—not to glorify the darkness. I want to shine a light for others who are still lost in it. Life isn’t perfect. I still hear whispers of self-doubt. Now I recognize them as lies. Loved ones can point that out to me. I’ve learned to stay vigilant, knowing that the enemy waits for moments of weakness.
What’s different today is that I don’t walk alone. Each day, I think, pray, and surrender. I trust that my path is unfolding just as it should. I share my life with others, but most importantly, I have God. Every hardship I faced prepared me to help others still battling addiction.
Recovery has also made me a better teacher, mother, and friend. I show up with more compassion, patience, and presence because I’ve faced my own darkness. I understand struggle, and I can extend grace to others who are hurting. That’s a gift I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t gotten sober.
My Identity Today
Today, I am a strong, sober woman still learning and growing. Recovery isn’t a destination—it’s a daily commitment. I fight my battles differently now. I don’t rely on stubbornness or control; I kneel in prayer and choose surrender over pride. I am continuing to learn to choose courage over fear.
If you’re struggling with addiction or shame, please hear this: you are not too far gone. Recovery is possible. It’s not easy—change never is—but it’s worth every step, no matter how small. As the saying goes, “Tiptoe if you must, but take the step.”
The Risk of Telling My Story
As a teacher, I’ve been warned not to share too much for fear of judgment. I know that stigma still exists around addiction, especially for professionals like me. But I’m not ashamed. In fact, I’m proud of my recovery. It takes courage to face your demons and build a new life.
I refuse to let fear of judgment silence my story. My testimony is the very thing that gives someone else hope. If my honesty helps just one person believe that recovery is possible, then every risk is worth it.
The Beauty of Recovery
Five years without alcohol is more than an anniversary. It’s a testament to grace. It’s also a testament to the power of surrender. It signifies the beauty of new beginnings. Recovery has given me a life I never imagined possible. I’m no longer hiding behind the bottle. I’m living, fully and freely.
If you are where I once was—lost, ashamed, drowning in addiction—know this: you are not alone. Your story isn’t over. There is hope. There is freedom. And there is a beautiful life waiting on the other side of surrender.
Stepping Out of the Shadows 