If you’re sitting here thinking your story hasn’t reached that point yet… I used to think the same thing. I thought my bottom would be loud.
Obvious. Something everyone could see. But mine showed up in a quiet week.

It was April 2017. I was spending time with someone new, another dealer. Not a relationship. No labels. Just a place to be when I didn’t want to be alone. At the beginning of that week, something new hit our town. H. He asked me to make a drop.
I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t hesitate.

I remember sitting in the car with it in my hand…
staring at it, waiting. And the only thing that crossed my mind was:
“God, please don’t ever let me become this.”
But I didn’t understand how close I already was.
And I didn’t think I was praying my first prayer.

A few days later, I went to see my brother.
He was living down the road from my grandfather. Before we went out, I stopped in to say hi. And I realized something, I didn’t have anything to get me through the night but I knew where it was.

There was a prescription sitting in the bathroom.
It had been there for a while. And I had never crossed that line before. But that night… I did.
I took pills. I took money. Not thinking about him. Not thinking about what it meant. Just thinking about getting through the night without feeling everything.

The next morning… it caught up to me. I woke up to my uncle coming through the door, asking questions I already knew the answers to. I didn’t deny it. My brother looked at me, confused, trying to figure out what was going on.

So I said it. “It was me.” Because I wasn’t going to let him carry something that wasn’t his.
Then I was told my grandfather wanted to talk to me.
And I’ll be honest with you, that walk down the road, into to his kitchen felt longer than anything I had ever done. Because I knew what I had done. And I knew who I had done it to.

This was a man who never turned his back on me.
No matter who I dated. No matter what I did. No matter how far off I was going. When I lost things, he replaced them. When I needed something, he made sure I had it. And now I was sitting across from him…
telling him I stole from him.

I didn’t make excuses. I didn’t try to explain it away.
Because if I’m being real with you… I think I was tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of waking up every day knowing I wasn’t okay.

He gave me a choice.

Get help or don’t come back until you do.

And something about that moment, it didn’t feel like rejection, it felt like truth. Redemption.

That was Easter Sunday. Oddly enough. Lol. The next day, I started making calls. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t know what it would look like. But I knew I couldn’t keep doing what I had been doing.

By Wednesday, I was walking into detox.
And I’m going to be honest with you, I thought I understood what I was doing. I thought I was just going to “get clean” and go back to my life. But walking through those doors, changed everything. Because that wasn’t just me getting caught, that was me being given a way out.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t run from it.