05/20/2026
My name is Sarah V.W., and I’m a 53-year-old woman in recovery who has just started my journey into becoming the woman I’m meant to be.
For most of my life, I didn’t know how to deal with pain. I experienced more as a child than anyone should ever have to endure, and by the time I was young, I had already learned how to survive by emotionally checking out. Alcohol and substances became the way I escaped what I didn’t know how to process.
Looking back now, I can see that I wasn’t truly trying to destroy myself. I was trying to bury pain that was never mine to carry in the first place.
There were periods throughout my life where I found sobriety. I got married. I had children. I tried to build a stable life. But addiction always seemed to find its way back to me.
Then in 2007, everything changed in the best possible way.
I met the love of my life.
For the first time, I felt truly safe, loved, and understood. We built a life together, and in 2014, I became a grandmother, which brought me more joy than I could ever explain.
But just nine days before my birthday in 2015, I woke up beside my husband and realized he had passed away in his sleep.
That moment broke me in ways I still struggle to describe.
April used to be my favorite month of the year. Now it carries memories that changed the course of my life forever.
I didn’t know how to cope with losing him. I didn’t go to therapy. I didn’t talk about the pain. Instead, I buried myself in alcohol and substances because I couldn’t bear the weight of my grief. I wanted to outrun the emptiness I felt after losing the person I loved most.
At the same time, I had gained custody of my infant grandson and was trying to hold everything together.
From the outside, I probably looked functional. The bills were paid. There was food in the house. My grandson had what he needed. I kept telling myself I was managing. I kept telling myself I was okay. This kept on for 7 years.
But functioning addiction is dangerous like that.
You convince yourself there isn’t really a problem because life hasn’t completely fallen apart yet.
Until one day it does.
And by the time you realize how bad things really are, you’ve already lost everything around you.
Including yourself.
I lost everyone and everything.
That was the moment I finally understood that surviving is not the same thing as living.
I had reached a place so dark that I no longer wanted to keep going.
And in the middle of all of that pain, I scared the people I loved most, including my grandson.
Looking back now, that was the breaking point that forced me to finally see how much my addiction was destroying not only my life, but the lives of the people around me.
After being released from the hospital, I knew something had to change. I decided to get sober. Not because everything was suddenly okay, but because deep down, I knew I couldn’t keep living the way I had been living. I was truly ready and willing to do whatever it took.
I got sober without going to rehab. Later, I was admitted into a recovery program called Breaking Chains, but I ended up being asked to leave in the middle of winter.
At the time, it felt devastating.
But looking back now, I believe it happened the way it was supposed to.
Because if I had not been asked to leave, I never would have found Awaken Recovery Foundation.
And finding Awaken has changed my life.
I came into this program needing help with everything. I needed shelter. I needed structure. I needed support. I needed people who could help me learn how to live again.
And little by little, that is what I was given.
Awaken helped me stay sober. They helped me learn how to budget my money, get to work, make it to appointments, attend meetings, take care of myself, and start showing up for my life in a way I never had before.
They offered classes, meetings, transportation, and access to the tools I needed to rebuild.
But more than anything, they gave me a community.
A place to belong.
A second family.
For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel alone anymore.
Little by little, I started to become someone I could recognize again.
Today, I am 18 months sober.
I have kept the same job for two years, which is something I am incredibly proud of. I have started peer support classes, and I now sponsor other women in recovery.
Recovery has become something I am deeply passionate about because I know what it feels like to need someone to believe in you before you can believe in yourself.
The more I heal, the more I want to help other people heal too.
I have learned that it is not about how many times you fall. It is about finding the strength to get back up one more time.
The gift of recovery has changed my life in ways I never thought were possible.
I have my grandson back in my life again, and for that, I could not be more grateful.
But recovery has given me more than relationships back.
It has given me myself back.
I still carry grief. I still carry guilt. I still carry memories that are hard to face.
But today, I also carry hope.
I am here. I am sober. I am growing.
And today, I believe in the woman I am becoming, one day at a time. 💜
