I was in my early twenties and trapped in an abusive relationship. I couldn’t see a way out. I told my best friend what was going on, and she decided that she wouldn’t be my friend anymore because I wouldn’t up and leave my abuser. I remember being in the hospital and they’d ask if I needed help. But I felt too scared to say anything. I didn’t think they could help me. I told my family what was happening and they all said the same thing: just leave.

There was this notion that I could just drop everything and make a clean break. That’s not how domestic violence situations work. In abusive relationships, we lose our sense of self, our sense of trust, our sense of security and safety. All that is gone. Unless you’ve been there, it’s hard to understand. I felt like I had no choices to make. I didn’t have the social, emotional, or financial support as a young woman to navigate this deeply traumatizing relationship. I just remember feeling so stuck.  

I needed something to help get me through it. One day, I was offered a handful of opioids. I tried some, and it was the one thing that numbed both the physical and emotional pain. Looking back, it was like making a deal with the devil. The opioids took the pain away, at first, until the pain caused by the opioids became even more unbearable. I was being harmed and abused, and on top of that, I was harming myself.

I not only had to recover from abuse, but also an opioid addiction. I was looking for treatment in Ohio, where I was born and raised, and I found a provider that prescribed Suboxone, a medication that I learned was considered part of the gold standard of care. But there were so many barriers and hoops I had to jump through: I had to show up constantly for appointments, for drug tests, for counseling––multiple times per week, and I just couldn’t make it work. I had to take my kids to daycare. I had a job. I had to be a mom and support a family. I wanted help so badly but it felt so hard to get it. 

I eventually found the right place for me. Little-by-little, the ground I walked on began to feel more stable. The medication relieved withdrawal and cravings, and it helped me get back to living a calmer life. Because of therapy, medication, and social support, I started to heal. Over time I regained my sense of self, trust, and safety. I remember thinking: Had treatment been easier for me to access, I believe I would have recovered much quicker than I did. 

Now, I try to provide that support for others. People who’ve been through something can help others walk the same path. It’s one of the oldest cures. I work as a peer today, and that means I get to model recovery. I’m right there with you. It’s such a privilege that I get to bring my own personal experiences into the work I do now. Being a peer is about creating this special space to relate on a deep level with people. It’s about meeting people wherever they’re at, and telling someone that they’re not alone, and that they shouldn’t give up. Sometimes people just need someone to talk to, to help cut through the noise and not miss the forest for the trees.

Something that comes up a lot with patients is fear and stigma around taking medications that treat opioid addiction, like Suboxone. I get that. So when I talk to patients who are on the fence and aren’t sure what they want to do, I listen and make sure they’re being heard. Because what they’re feeling is real. I’ve felt that too. 

People have this idea that you’re still high while taking Suboxone. That you’re out there still using or that you just traded one drug for another. Some think you’re not really in recovery if you’re taking medication. That’s totally not the case. And I know it’s not the case because I use Suboxone to aid in my own recovery. It’s just one part of my life today. I get to share that with people, and I help people think about what’s actually best for them.  

I’m lucky to work a job where I get to relate with people. It can still feel hard sometimes to listen to myself and do what’s right for me. I’ve learned that trust for me is a big part of healing and recovery. It’s like taking a leap of faith. You have to trust that you’ll land safely. I used to rely on opioids to create that sense of safety. It was scary to let that go. But today I feel fully present in my life. I’m a mom to four children, and a grandmother, I garden, I love nature. I can show up for work and bring passion to my job. I’ve done things that I never thought I could.