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Post 1: The Plague of Addiction

Six years ago, a plague called meth entered my life.
It didn’t knock, it stormed in, bringing destruction, misery, and a trail of broken trust. I didn’t enjoy the person I became. I stole from stores, from strangers, and worst of all, from my own family — even my little boys. That betrayal still stings. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s part of my truth. And sometimes, the truth hurts.

Fentanyl followed close behind.
It gripped me harder than anything before. I spent years in its shadow, overdosing twelve times. The first two times, my husband saved my life with Narcan. The following overdoses he saved me with intermuscular Naloxone. I should’ve died. But I didn’t. And I believe that’s because God wasn’t done with me yet.

Addiction didn’t just steal my health, it stole my peace, my judgment, my ability to cope.
I was in psychosis. I was heartbroken. I was numb. Meth did the job of silencing my pain, but it also silenced my spirit. I fled from my husband, from myself. I stole. I spiraled. I lost sight of who I was.

But even in the chaos, something deeper stirred.
A whisper of hope. A flicker of faith. A sense that I was meant for more than this cycle of destruction.

This is the beginning of my story, not the end.
And if you’re reading this, maybe it’s the beginning of yours too.

Post 2: Overdose and Revival

I should be dead. Twelve times over.
That’s how many times I overdosed. Twelve. My husband used Narcan and intermuscular Naloxone to bring me back. He saved my life again and again, and I know now that God was working through him.

Fentanyl had me in its grip for years.
It’s hard to describe the kind of darkness that drug brings. It numbs everything, pain, fear, guilt, even love. I didn’t care if I lived or died. I didn’t care who I hurt. I just wanted to escape. And every time I overdosed, I got closer to never coming back.

But I did come back. And I believe that’s no accident.
There’s a reason I’m still here. A reason I survived. A reason my husband was there every time. A reason I didn’t become another statistic. That reason is God.

Revival didn’t happen all at once.
It started with a whisper. A flicker of light in the darkness. A moment of clarity in the chaos. I began to see that my life had meaning, that my pain could be transformed into purpose.

I’m now nine going on ten months sober (sobriety date 4/26/25). And I’ve never felt more alive.
I feel joy. I feel peace. I feel like I’m finally in my element, helping others, inspiring them with my story, and walking in the light of God’s grace.

This is my revival.
And if you’re still breathing, still fighting, still searching, yours can begin too.

Post 3: The Justice System and Recovery Court

I didn’t expect grace to come from handcuffs.
But that’s exactly what happened. After my third VOP offense, I was running out of hope, that was until a lady named Hope showed up. She visited me just days before I was scheduled to see the judge. That’s when I was offered to join Recovery Court. I signed the dotted line and was sent to Mirror Lake, a place I’d been before. But this time, something shifted.

I met a spiritual counselor, a woman of God, who helped me confront the grip Satan had on my life.
I started reaching for the Bible. I started listening to messages from others. I started seeing God’s mercy in ways I never had before. I graduated Mirror Lake for the second time and began my journey in Recovery Court.

But the road wasn’t smooth.
After my very first court appearance in Recovery Court, I relapsed. I was frustrated, discouraged, and spiraling. I thought, “If I’m going to get in trouble for something I didn’t do, I might as well do it.” That mindset nearly destroyed me.

I ran, not just for a few days, but for twenty‑four to be exact.
When they finally arrested me, I ended up with two new drug charges. I spent 25 days in jail, facing the reality of what my choices had cost me. But even in that cell, God was working.

My felony charge was dropped to a misdemeanor because of the small amount of meth they found on me.
That mercy opened the door for a second chance with Recovery Court, a chance many people don’t get twice.

JACOA became another turning point.
I had to redo rehab from the beginning, spending 28 days there. That’s where I met my best friend, Courtney. I knew I was meant to be there, not just for myself, but to play a part in her life, as well as other very good friends I met while I was there, too. I graduated JACOA on June 16, 2025 and was sent to a JACOA sober living house. That same day, I was assaulted by someone in tent city. I should’ve died. But I didn’t. Again, God showed up. Unfortunately, I missed curfew and was removed from that house the very next day. God had other plans and placed me to live in a halfway house where I always wanted to be from the start of my recovery. It was an Oxford House where I thrived living at for 5 months with all my loving sober sisters there.

I’ve learned to treat tent city like a plague, a place I never want to return to.
I know my place now. I know who I am. My spiritual self is needed here, in this moment, with these people. I lean on God to guide and comfort me. My spirit provides hope. My story carries love.

This isn’t just about recovery.
It’s about redemption. And it’s about rising. 

Post 4: Relapse and Redemption

Relapse doesn’t mean failure. It means you’re still fighting.
After my first court appearance in Recovery Court, I relapsed. I was frustrated, discouraged, and angry. I felt punished for something I truthfully wasn't doing at the time. I started showing a positive result for marijuana, meth, and alcohol. Truth be told, I was hanging around the wrong people who were indeed using around me. In my mind, this wrongful punishment gave me permission to spiral. I thought, “If I’m going to get in trouble anyway, I might as well do it.” That mindset nearly destroyed me.

I ran for 24 days.
I didn’t show up. I didn’t check in. I didn’t care. But deep down, I knew I was still part of an honest program, and I had planned to admit my relapse a few days later. I wasn't even in that much trouble at the time. I was ordered by the judge to do a couple days of community service and a paper about being dishonest. Instead of facing my troubles head on, I was arrested. Face to the wall. Cuffed. Booked for Failure to Comply with Recovery Court. I was also charged with Possession of Methamphetamine and Drug Paraphernalia. The meth charge was a felony, but because of the small amount found, just a loaded syringe I’d left in my console, it was dropped to a misdemeanor. That mercy gave me a second chance with Recovery Court.

I spent 25 days in jail.
It was humbling. It was painful. But it was necessary. I had to start over, rehab, accountability, everything. I was sent back to JACOA, where I spent 28 days rebuilding myself from the inside out.

Redemption isn’t a clean process. It’s messy, painful, and full of grace.
I’ve learned that relapse doesn’t erase progress. It reveals where healing still needs to happen. It shows you where the cracks are and gives you a chance to fill them with truth, love, and faith.

I’m still here. I’m still sober. And I’m still rising.
God didn’t give up on me. So, I won’t give up on myself, or on anyone else walking this road. 

Post 5: Spiritual Insight and Transformation

I didn’t just recover, I awakened.
Addiction stripped me down to nothing. It took my peace, my judgment, my ability to cope. But in the wreckage, I found something deeper. I found God. And I found myself.

My spiritual journey began with a woman of God at Mirror Lake.
She helped me see the grip Satan had on my life, the drama, the cursing, the loss, the chaos. I started reaching for the Bible. I started listening to others around me. And slowly, I began to hear what I needed to hear. God was speaking to me through people, through pain, through mercy.

I started to see God’s presence everywhere.
In the quiet moments. In the second chances. In the people who showed up when I needed them most. I began to understand that my story wasn’t just about addiction, it was about transformation.

I’ve learned to forgive.
My husband and I both made mistakes. We hurt each other. But we’ve also healed together. I’ve forgiven him. He’s forgiven me. And through that forgiveness, I’ve found peace.

I know who I am now.
I am a child of God. I am a truth speaker. I am a truth seeker. My spiritual self is needed here, in this moment, in this world, with these people. I lean on God to guide and comfort me. My spirit provides hope. My story carries love.

This is transformation.
This is grace.
This is the light that came after the darkness.

Post 6: Fentanyl, Overdose, and God’s Grace

Fentanyl nearly killed me. Twelve times.
Each overdose was a moment where my life could’ve ended. The first two times, my husband used Narcan to bring me back. The rest, he had to inject Naloxone directly into my body. I should’ve died. But I didn’t. And I know now, that was God’s grace.

Addiction didn’t just steal my health; it stole my soul.
I was numb. I was broken. I was lost. Meth and fentanyl had me in a chokehold, and I didn’t know how to escape. I betrayed people I loved. I stole from my own children. I ran from the truth. But even in the darkness, something inside me refused to die.

God met me in the wreckage.
He didn’t wait for me to be clean. He didn’t wait for me to be ready. He showed up in the jail cell, in the rehab center, in the courtroom, in the overdose. He showed me mercy when I didn’t deserve it. He gave me people, counselors, case managers, friends, who spoke life into me when I couldn’t hear it myself.

I am now nine going on ten months sober (sobriety date 4/26/25).
I feel more alive than I ever have. I feel joy. I feel peace. I feel purpose. I am in my element when I help others, when I share my story, when I inspire people with the truth of what God has done in my life.

This blog is my testimony.
It’s not just about addiction. It’s about grace. It’s about survival. It’s about transformation. And it’s about the God who never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself.

If you’re reading this, know this:
You are not too far gone.
You are not beyond saving.
You are loved.
You are here.
And your story isn’t over.

Posted by Shannon - 1/9/26, Revised - 2/4/26

To Be Continued...