Turning My Life Around

National Alcohol and Drug Addiction Recovery Month has inspired millions of people to raise awareness about addiction, share their stories of recovery, and assist others who are still struggling.

As Recovery Month September 2009 comes to a close, one such story of recovery featured on the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration Recovery Month website (http://www.recoverymonth.gov) is that of Regena Grant, center manager at the Haight Ashbury Free Clinics Smith House/Smith Ryan Residential Detox for Women. Her family was instrumental in helping her pick up the pieces from her addiction and put her life back together through treatment and long-term recovery.

Here is her story:

As of April 8, 2008, I have been in long-term recovery for 7 years and 8 days. With every passing day, this number changes. Each day is better than the last; each is a true blessing. I was dependent on crack cocaine, alcohol, and marijuana. As with many people with addictions, I started off with recreational use, which quickly became abuse. I then became completely addicted.

I couldn't have gotten clean and sober without my family. My kids lived with my mother and grandmother during the last six months of my addiction when I couldn't take care of them. My grandmother took care of my newborn when I was in treatment, and when I was at my lowest point, she was so supportive of me.

My parents divorced when I was 2 years old. Going back and forth between my parents was normal for me. My father was very strict. He instilled in me education and a work ethic to always succeed. Living with my father growing up, I became a “people pleaser.”

Once I got into recovery, I heard all of these traumatic stories of why people were addicted. Some were abused, abandoned, molested, and other horrible stories. None of those things happened to me. I had a secure family, a great childhood. I wondered, “Why was I an addict?”

For me, addiction stemmed from my inability to love myself. When I started putting the pieces of my puzzle together, it occurred to me that when kids at school and my cousin would tease me, it affected my self worth. My family is very fair skinned, while I am very dark skinned. As young as 5 years old, I even remember trying to wash the black off of me.

My mother was much more lenient than my father. With my newfound freedom, I became pregnant when I was 16, giving birth at 17. My entire family was supportive of me, even my father, who I thought would be upset. After I had my baby, I moved out of my mom's house and in with a new boyfriend. He pressured me to smoke marijuana, and one day I did. After a while of recreational use, I tried crack mixed with marijuana. The very first time I smoked it, I was addicted. I was 18 years old. I also started drinking at age 19.

When I was 21, I became pregnant with my second son, and managed to stay clean during my pregnancy. I will never forget when I went into premature labor with my second child. The doctor came in and told me, “Everything is going to be okay with your baby, but you have AIDS.” In reality, I actually was just HIV positive. But this was 1990, a time when HIV hadn't really hit the heterosexual community and the disease wasn't well understood. I didn't know what to think. I thought I was going to die and that my baby was going to die. Thank God, my baby was HIV negative.

But until I got clean - 10 years later - all my aspirations and hopes went out the window. I was in denial about my situation and got re-acquainted with my addiction. I was in such a fog that 4 months after my new son was born, I became pregnant again. I started using, and my grandmother and mother basically locked me in the house for the last 4 months of my pregnancy so I wouldn't use. That's the only reason my third child wasn't born addicted, and fortunately, was HIV negative.

I was in so much emotional pain and hurt at the time. Even though I was surrounded by my family, I felt so alone and isolated with my disease. Drugs became my friend, my escape. I didn't think I was deserving of love or attention and blocked out everything around me.

My addiction progressively got worse over a period of years until it finally spiraled out of control. I became homeless and my mother took my children from me. Throughout my life and my addiction, I had a list of things that I said I would never do. One by one, I started crossing things off the list because of my actions. I had said that if my mother ever took my kids, I would stop using; if I became homeless and living on the street, I would stop using. Nothing mattered and I kept on my downward spiral.

One day, a man saw me sitting outside a store and asked if I needed shelter for the night. He got me a hotel room and I used the opportunity to drink and use. The next day, another man asked if he could help me. He was a Hell's Angel who told me, “You are in hell and I'm your angel.” He fed me and told me how he overcame an addiction to methamphetamine, and that if he could do it, I could, too.

I heard him talk, but I didn't really listen to what he said. I didn't process it. Over the next three months or so, I did a lot of things that were risky and dangerous. I was in pure survival mode and did what I thought I needed to do to keep using.

When you are using drugs, you become fearless. I only lived this risky lifestyle for 2 or 3 months because I received some unexpected news. I was pregnant again. It remained a mystery to me for quite some time. Even though I lived on the wild side, I thought I didn't do anything to cause a pregnancy. I checked myself into a psychiatric facility I had been to a few times because of my own past attempts on my life. I didn't really want to die. I just wanted to stop using drugs and couldn't. The case manager there recommended me to a treatment facility.

The first program they found for me wouldn't allow me to disclose my HIV status to others in the facility because they didn't want me to feel alienated. I said that they needed to find me another program because I already felt alienated. They referred me to Lodestar House, a program for HIV-positive women and part of Haight Ashbury Free Clinics. While there, I had a vision. It was of the man who had gotten me the hotel room when I needed a place to stay. I had blacked out and didn't remember what had happened that night. The vision showed me what happened and how I had become pregnant the third time.

After I had my baby, my treatment program allowed me to live with my grandmother for 3 months so I could spend time with my newborn. My grandmother had always believed that for the first 30 days, a new mother had to stay in the house to be with her child. On day 31, I went out and smoked crack. I had tried to get clean for my baby, not because I was sick and tired of using drugs. I relapsed and was brought back to the program after about 2 days.

Once back in treatment, I was doing well, but soon after I left the grounds, I relapsed again. The next morning as the sun came up, I had a feeling that I could only describe as being lost in my own soul. I felt so empty and alone, mentally and emotionally bankrupt. It was a feeling I never wanted to have again. I had always made promises that I would never use again, but this time it was different. It was the last time I used drugs.

In the program, I vowed to do whatever the counselors told me to do. After my detoxification - a type of treatment facility where many people go through their addiction withdrawal symptoms - I started working the 12 steps and following the program so I could see my kids. My family was included in treatment events and spent weekends with me during visiting hours.

Everyone was very involved in my treatment. I made a commitment to them and myself, and I stayed clean. At the end of my 17 months living at the treatment center, the center manager said, “Regena, I see something in you. When you stay clean for two years, I will guarantee you a job.” She didn't say if, she said when.

My only housing option after treatment was a subsidized housing project in an area that wasn't conducive to helping me stay clean. The building my mother lived in was secure and safe. I wanted to live there to be closer to her and to commit to my sobriety. The building manager would see me visiting my kids all the time, but said that I had to earn three times the rent to live there, which wasn't realistic. Soon, the manager said, “I'm going to take a chance on you.”

All I had the day I left the program was $5, four kids, and two keys, but I was thankful to be alive and healthy. When I left the program, I had been clean one year. I got my kids back that same day and moved into my brand new apartment.

In the one-bedroom apartment, I gave my kids the bedroom while I slept on a sofa bed. This is how we lived for 2 ½ years. People would ask how I could live in a one bedroom with all of my kids. I would reply, “Humbly and gratefully! Because I used to sleep outside.”

The day I celebrated being clean for 2 years, the center manager of Lodestar House called me and asked if I was ready to come to work. I was shocked because I didn't think she had been serious. I became an on-call counselor for the program. Soon, I became a permanent part-time counselor. Not long after that, I was promoted to a primary counselor of Lodestar House, where I would lead treatment groups. I couldn't believe that I was working full time, providing for my family, and helping people who were just like me before treatment.

I said before that my father instilled in me education and a work ethic. Addiction did not take that away. I was promoted to supervisor at Lodestar House, the very same detox center where I was a client, and a year ago, I was promoted to center manager of Haight Ashbury Free Clinic's Residential Detox Services for Women. This job is truly a blessing because I am helping people, and since I've been there, I can relate to the clients.

I've never once in the four years I've worked said, “I don't want to go to work today.” I'm blessed for every day I get to come in and plant the seed of recovery in others. This job has empowered me and I wouldn't change a thing. I'm grateful to have gone through my experiences with addiction and for my HIV status because it has made me the strong, black woman I never thought I could be.

I used to say, “Why me? Why did I use drugs? Why did I get HIV?” Now I know why. It's so I can give others hope and help them save themselves.

I had been clean and in recovery for about 2 years when my grandmother passed away. I'm so happy she had the opportunity to see me clean. My mother has stuck with me through it all. She had a heart attack about a year and a half ago and has been in and out of the hospital. I'm now able to help take care of her just like she took care of me.

She inspires me to keep going every day. When I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she responded, “Just for you to stay clean.” I'm very open and honest with my children, and they don't have any shame. I've heard them talking to their friends about how proud they were that I got clean; I am just as proud of them. My children are now 21, 17, 16, and 6. I never thought I would be sober or see my oldest son graduate high school. I'm also a grandmother now, too!

My greatest wish for the recovery community is for programs to not be dependent on a specific budget. Any program should be available to every person seeking treatment. When funding runs out and treatment programs close, people are not getting the help they need. Every time we have a review at our facility, there is a fear that one of our programs will be shut down. Every month, our program has a waiting list of at least 30 women. People need to reach out to touch the community and share their stories so everyone can be healthy. My life has completely turned around, and I am so lucky to have the opportunity to help others do the same.

View the "Recovery Month: 20 Years of Excellence and Achievement" Timeline. This timeline showcases the many strides the treatment and recovery field have made and details the campaign's success and evolution.