12d • F*ck the stigma & Shame
My Life...
Late summer 2010, Boulder Junction, Wisconsin. I’m living in a beat-up trailer in the middle of a ghetto trailer park. At night you can sit on the steps and watch people drinking by bonfires, then chasing each other through the lots, screaming, crying, fists flying — the same chaos every single night.
I had just found out my boyfriend was cheating. I even messaged the girl like an idiot: ‘Hey, can you leave my man alone?’ Desperation had me so twisted I didn’t know which way was up.
His mom handed me a couple Xanax bars. I popped them right there, stopped at the smoke shop, grabbed a bottle of Bacardi Limon, and climbed into my car — the .270 Savage rifle I’d hunted with for years sitting in the back seat with a box of bullets. I started pounding the rum straight from the bottle, no chaser, burning all the way down while I drove County M toward home.
The pain felt insurmountable. I just wanted it to stop. As the trees blurred past I thought, ‘I could just speed up and crank the wheel into the woods.’ So I did. I slammed the gas, yanked the steering wheel hard, and the car screamed off the highway into the dark trees.
I don’t remember the impact. I just remember waking up with blood on my face, interior lights still on, someone knocking on the window. Then flashing ambulance lights, my clothes being cut off, and nothing… until I woke up a day later in Wausau hospital with a tube down my throat, hands tied to the bed rails.
My boyfriend wouldn’t even come get me. His sister-in-law picked me up instead. When I walked into our trailer, her stuff was everywhere — clothes, makeup, her scent in the air. That was my rock bottom.
The reason I told you this story is.........we all have our version of that dark drive where the pain feels too big to carry. Has this ever happened to you?
My challenge to you is: if you’re on that drive right now, know you can still come back.
Progress is progress — whether it’s a mile or a millimeter.
I’m ten years sober from meth now, happily married, and my kids are thriving. You can too.
Drop a ❤️ if you needed to hear this today.
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My Life...
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Messy Progress Tribe – Where progress is progress, whether it’s a mile or a millimeter. No polish required. Just real humans showing up.
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