In July of 2012 I lost my friend to a long battle with heart failure. After his funeral was the first time I had ever experienced a bout of depression. I felt trapped inside of my mind. The constant thoughts of "what if?" and "why god?" ran through my mind at a mere 14 years old. I turned my back on the religious beliefs I had prior. I started learning evolution in school and that answered all of my questions. If there was a God, how could he take my friend from me? That was the start of a very long road for me. At such a young age instead of asking for help I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain. Years went by with me hiding it from everyone around me. In 2016 I lost another friend to a car accident. After this loss, there was no more hiding the hollow shell of a person I had become. I didn't recognize myself anymore. Amongst the insanity that I had allowed my life to become, I had enrolled in cosmetology school. I was filled with as much enthusiasm as one person like myself could have. However, in November of 2017 that came to a halt when my father fell terminally ill as a result of his heroic actions in being part of the 9/11 cleanup. Despite my father being sick, it didn't stop me. If anything, this was another excuse to feed my addiction and hide from my depression. January of 2018 I was arrested and by February I was kicked out of School. My father knew it was his time to intervene and helped me get sober. For the first time in all these years I had to actually feel all of my feelings. January 7th, 2018 was the first day in many years I had gone without a drink or a drug. The detox was physically painful, but nothing prepared me for the emotional pain to follow. All of the emotions I had tucked so far down were all coming back with a vengeance. With the help of an amazing group of people that had all been in my place I was able to find and trust in a power much greater than myself to restore me to sanity. They loved me until I was able to learn to love myself again. These strangers taught me how to become a daughter to my parents, a sister to my siblings and a friend to many. At some point along the way I was able to give away what was freely given to me. I had learned kindness, compassion, empathy and patience. Along the road I had decided that since I had given up using it was time to seek professional help to discuss the options I had to learn to cope with depression and other mental illnesses I had been diagnosed with including anxiety and bi-polar disorder. Through many discussions with professionals and other recovering addicts that have become close friends, I have learned that goals are the simplest way to fail. If you set a goal and you don't achieve it, you ruin your self- esteem. So today, I choose to believe in setting an objective with no limitations. In August of last year, I enrolled into beauty school for the second time. You see, this second time around has not been a walk in the park. I have been working 6 days a week on top of being in school 40 hours a week. I help support my family and myself while in school. March 4th 2022 my father's illnesses that he acquired from the trade center cleanup had completely taken over his body and he took his last breath surrounded by myself, my mother and my three younger siblings. During his last week of life I promised him I would return to school and build a career and a life worth living for myself. I fully intend on keeping my promise. I just returned to school after a leave of absence to assist my grief process. I have cut back hours on work so as to not gather too many eggs in my basket at once. I am able to meet with my therapist and grief counselors to talk about my feelings rather than run away from them. I miss my father dearly, however he has motivated me to continue on the path towards bettering myself.

It took me a few years after graduating highschool to really determine what I wanted to be when I grew up. In highschool I wanted to become a band director. I had been accepted into Eastern Carolina University’s saxophone studio, and was getting ready to enroll in classes when I did some soul searching. I had come to the realization that I wanted to go down a different path, I just wasn't sure what I wanted. I had a couple long talks with my father about it and he suggested I work part time till I decide on my career path. Over the last few years I have been through quite a few life altering situations that pushed school back further than expected. At first I felt defeated, but now I am grateful. During these years through every trial and tribulation I have persevered while one thing remained on my mind. Cosmetology was the path I had decided on. I always had a passion for doing hair and makeup. While in band in highschool I also participated in winterguard. A crucial part of winterguard and making the shows come to life is the costume. I had taken it upon myself to be in charge of doing all of the hair and makeup for the shows. Adding glitter to catch the judges eye in the light during the love story of Romeo and Juliet. While giving the hair volume by backcombing and combining different earthy tones of makeup for a camouflage effect needed in the war show about Black Hawk Down. I knew in my heart this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I wanted to make people feel confident in their appearance. I finally decided on which school I wanted to go to to receive my education. Halfway through school my father succumbed to an illness that he inherited from his time working in Union 731 during the cleanup of the horrific events that happened September 11 2001 at the World Trade Center. He passed away March 4th 2022. My father was a master plumber by trade. He started plumbing at 16 years old learning from his mentor in Vancouver B.C. Over the years he would like to switch things up so he did not grow tired of doing just one thing. He learned many trades including painting, construction and electrical. At one point he even worked offshore on oil rigs as a safety coordinator before an oil spill forced his company to shut down. My father is my hero. Through every change in his career path learning different trades, he managed to provide for my mother, myself and my four siblings. He enabled my mother to stay at home to tend to us for over 10 years. He was an extremely tenacious man and worked harder than any other person I have come across in my near 25 years of life. He inspired my decision to enroll in trade school to become a cosmetologist. He reminded me to invest in myself and the tools required for my trade. While he was still living he made sure that I had proper shoes for comfort while I was standing all day working with clients and reminded me that just because I don’t receive a degree in trade school that I will still be able to become a successful business woman. I plan on doing just that. I want to make the spirit of my father proud while following in his footsteps working in a trade that I have grown to love over the years.

It was somewhere between two and three oclock in the morning when my phone rang. A soft timid voice on the other end, shocked that I answered, whispered “hello is this Emily?” Being in recovery, I pass my phone number out often. I was always told that it didn't matter what time of day it was, if I heard my phone ring I was to answer if I was truly willing to go any lengths to maintain my sobriety. As we got to talking on the phone I was informed that she was a mere 18 years old and struggling badly. She was taking a mixture of drugs and alcohol to numb the immense amount of pain she was suffering from. We talked for a few minutes before she gave me her address. On the drive to her house I decided it would be best if I made a few phone calls to some of my younger friends that are also recovering addicts and alcoholics to see if they would be willing to tag along to share their stories of survival. Sharing our stories often brings comfort to people struggling. It shows what it was like for us during active addiction, what happened and what life is like for us now being sober young adults. Two of my friends made the drive to her house. Upon entering we started a pot of coffee and gathered around the kitchen table to talk. The three of us shared small bits of our stories before she asked if there was any way we could take her to a treatment center tonight. I made a couple phone calls, packed her a bag of clothes and toiletries and we headed out on our three hour long drive to a well known treatment center. On the drive down we listened to some positive music. Near the treatment facility I made sure to write down all of our numbers on a sheet of paper so she could stay connected while she was in treatment for the next month. We gave her huge hugs and said a group prayer before walking her in. After getting her in, we all decided to go to the beach to watch the sunrise. I have heard from the girl almost every day and it's given me quite a few reminders on why I keep going. I made a decision to answer the phone in the middle of the night and I have been able to introduce someone to a way of life worth living. I was told to suit up and show up so I did just that. Knowing that I possibly helped save that girl’s life has shown me what gratitude really is. Helping people realize that you can work through the pain rather than get high or drunk over it is a beautiful thing. I was able to give back what was so graciously given to me by strangers four years ago when I was in the same position as the girl that reached out to me. My eyes are filled with tears as I am writing this knowing that one phone call helped save someone’s life.I am forever grateful to be a part of something so big. One day at a time, we get to help the next person who is sick and suffering. I get to be reminded that I will never be cured from addiction, but I have been restored from a hopeless state of mind and body. I get to continue to recover everyday as long as I continue to show up.

It's important to me that I remember that I am recovering on a daily basis from a hopeless state of mind and body. I am not recovered. Nor will I ever be. On a daily basis I am fighting the demons keeping them at bay while they are doing pushups in the parking lot waiting on my downfall. I have to put in work. Reaching out to people in my network, keeping a conscious contact with my higher power and remembering what life to me was like four short years ago. Recovery is a second chance at life. A chance to finish school and start a career. I get to be a daughter to my parents, a sister to my siblings and a friend to many today. I get to wake up and choose gratitude and serenity. I get to be happy today and have a life worth living. I don't have to be riddled with fear and anxiety about how to hide my addiction. My parents don't have to wait up wondering if they are going to get a call that I am no longer living. I get to learn to love who I am. Recovery means a way of life worth living today.

In 2005 my parents had made the very big and bold decision to pack up the house, four kids, two dogs and themselves and move to a small town outside of Raleigh, NC from New York. Our first day moving into the new home in Clayton, one of our new next door neighbors had offered my dad help moving the couch into the house. We later learned he was a twin. Two brothers that were 5 years older than myself and in a band. Brandon and Taylor were their names and they quickly became like protective older brothers to me. Something I never had, being that I am the oldest of four kids. Our families truly became one. We celebrated birthdays and holidays together. Spent weekends jumping back and forth between the back yards while the adults played dominos inside. When their band grabbed local venues attention they started playing shows around the state and my dad would take me to show support. February 4th 2016 the whole friend group had gone out to support the band at an album release party in downtown Raleigh. It was like any other show. All of us reunited, supporting our friends, listening to our favorite music, dancing, head banging and singing along. However, the next morning was not so normal. I had received a phone call from Brandon asking if I had heard from his twin brother Taylor. About 20 minutes later I got a text from a friend and it was a news article about a car accident where they were unable to identify the driver. Minutes felt like hours as my father rushed to their house to find out what happened. February 5th 2016 I lost my best friend. As a result of me being young, heart broken and depressed I turned to drugs to numb my pain. I continued down that path for two years. My father stepped in to help me find serenity in sobriety at this point. Getting sober was not an easy journey. I learned how short life really is. I have the courage and the drive to take chances that I was once too timid to fathom. Now that I am four years drug free, I have re-enrolled in beauty school. This time around my father passed away during my time at school. He was a 9/11 survivor and the illnesses had finally riddled his body. During his last week of life I promised him I would fight to make a name for myself in the beauty industry. I will make a career and a beautiful life for myself. I will do whatever it takes to make his heavenly spirit proud of the woman I am becoming. I don't like to say I've been given a difficult life, I just have to fight a little harder than others to get to where I know I can be. On a daily basis I have to make a conscious effort to try to remain positive despite the grief that riddles my heart. I fight my demons constantly to continue being a better version of myself than I was yesterday. I owe it to myself. Today, I have a voice and a story I can use to help other people survive grief, addiction and depression. I will continue to fight out loud as long as it means I have the chance of helping at least one person I come across in my lifetime make it to see the beauty of the other side.

In 2005 my parents had made the very big and bold decision to pack up the house, four kids, two dogs and themselves and move to a small town outside of Raleigh, NC from New York. I was 8 years old at the time and like any rational 8 year old, I had decided it was the absolute end of the world. Our first day moving into the new home in Clayton, one of our new next door neighbors had offered my dad help moving the couch into the house. We later learned he was a twin. Two brothers that were 5 years older than myself and in a band. Brandon and Taylor were their names and they quickly became like protective older brothers to me. Something I never had, being that I am the oldest of four kids. Our families truly became one. We celebrated birthdays and holidays together. Spent weekends jumping back and forth between the back yards while the adults played dominos inside. When their band grabbed local venues attention they started playing shows around the state and my dad would take me to show support. This is where my love for metal music and mosh pits started. February 4th 2016 the whole friend group had gone out to support the band at an album release party in downtown Raleigh. It was like any other show. All of us reunited, supporting our friends, listening to our favorite music, dancing, head banging and singing along. However, the next morning was not so normal. I had received a phone call from Brandon asking if I had heard from his twin brother Taylor. About 20 minutes later I got a text from a friend and it was a news article about a car accident where they were unable to identify the driver. Taylor had just gotten custom rims for his white Acura TL and I knew in my gut it was him, but I still held out hope. Minutes felt like hours as my father rushed to their house to find out what happened. February 5th 2016 I lost my best friend. In a blink of an eye he was a memory. As a result of me being young, heart broken and depressed I turned to drugs to numb my pain. I continued down that path for two years before getting myself into legal trouble and getting kicked out of cosmetology school. My father stepped in to help me find serenity in sobriety at this point. Getting sober was not an easy journey. I did however learn to find gratitude in the darkest of times. I learned how short life really is. I have the courage and the drive to take chances that I was once too timid to fathom. Now that I am four years drug free, I have re-enrolled in beauty school. This time around my father passed away during my time at school. He was a 9/11 survivor and the illnesses had finally riddled his body. During his last week of life I promised him I would fight to make a name for myself in the beauty industry. I will make a career and a beautiful life for myself. I will do whatever it takes to make his heavenly spirit proud of the woman I am becoming. I don't like to say I've been given a difficult life, I just have to fight a little harder than others to get to where I know I can be. I don't set goals because they have endings, I set objectives with no limitations. On a daily basis I have to make a conscious effort to try to remain positive despite the grief that riddles my heart. I fight my demons constantly to continue being a better version of myself than I was yesterday. I owe it to myself, my family, and all those that are waiting for me on the other side. Today I have a voice and a story I can use to help other people survive grief, addiction and depression. I will continue to fight out loud as long as it means I have the chance of helping at least one person I come across in my lifetime make it to see the beauty of the other side.

In July of 2012 I lost my friend to a long battle with heart failure. After his funeral was the first time I had ever experienced a bout of depression. I felt trapped inside of my mind. The constant thoughts of "what if?" and "why god?" ran through my mind at a mere 14 years old. I turned my back on the religious beliefs I had prior. I started learning evolution in school and that answered all of my questions. If there was a God, how could he take my friend from me? That was the start of a very long road for me. At such a young age instead of asking for help I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain. Years went by with me hiding it from everyone around me. In 2016 I lost another friend to a car accident. After this loss, there was no more hiding the hollow shell of a person I had become. I didn't recognize myself anymore. Amongst the insanity that I had allowed my life to become, I had enrolled in cosmetology school. I was filled with as much enthusiasm as one person like myself could have. However, in November of 2017 that came to a halt when my father fell terminally ill as a result of his heroic actions in being part of the 9/11 cleanup. Despite my father being sick, it didn't stop me. If anything, this was another excuse to feed my addiction and hide from my depression. January of 2018 I was arrested and by February I was kicked out of School. My father knew it was his time to intervene and helped me get sober. For the first time in all these years I had to actually feel all of my feelings. January 7th, 2018 was the first day in many years I had gone without a drink or a drug. The detox was physically painful, but nothing prepared me for the emotional pain to follow. All of the emotions I had tucked so far down were all coming back with a vengeance. With the help of an amazing group of people that had all been in my place I was able to find and trust in a power much greater than myself to restore me to sanity. They loved me until I was able to learn to love myself again. These strangers taught me how to become a daughter to my parents, a sister to my siblings and a friend to many. At some point along the way I was able to give away what was freely given to me. I had learned kindness, compassion, empathy and patience. Along the road I had decided that since I had given up using it was time to seek professional help to discuss the options I had to learn to cope with depression and other mental illnesses I had been diagnosed with including anxiety and bi-polar disorder. Through many discussions with professionals and other recovering addicts that have become close friends, I have learned that goals are the simplest way to fail. If you set a goal and you don't achieve it, you ruin your self- esteem. So today, I choose to believe in setting an objective with no limitations. In August of last year, I enrolled into beauty school for the second time. You see, this second time around has not been a walk in the park. I have been working 6 days a week on top of being in school 40 hours a week. I help support my family and myself while in school. March 4th 2022 my father's illnesses that he acquired from the trade center cleanup had completely taken over his body and he took his last breath surrounded by myself, my mother and my three younger siblings. During his last week of life I promised him I would return to school and build a career and a life worth living for myself. I fully intend on keeping my promise. I just returned to school after a leave of absence to assist my grief process. I have cut back hours on work so as to not gather too many eggs in my basket at once. I am able to meet with my therapist and grief counselors to talk about my feelings rather than run away from them. I miss my father dearly, however he has motivated me to continue on the path towards bettering myself.