My name is Lindsay, and I am an addict. By the grace of God, I have been sober from meth since November of 2017 and sober from alcohol since March of 2023. I struggled immensely with my mental health and substance abuse in my late teens and early twenties. At one point, I was hospitalized five times in four months. I was so far gone, many of my friends stopped talking to me. My parents limited contact with me. The only person I really had around was my now ex-boyfriend that fueled my addiction. He has since lost that fight, back in 2019. When I found out I was pregnant with my oldest son, I quit cold turkey. I refused to let my child become another statistic in a messed up world. I’m not sure if it’s determination or luck, but I haven’t had an urge to go back since I quit. Alcohol, on the other hand, became a crutch. After my son was born, I would regularly go out drinking until I would black out. I dealt with significant postpartum depression and was constantly trying to numb that pain with alcohol. My son’s father was an abusive alcoholic, and many nights I would drink just to escape the reality that I was facing. When I finally left my son’s dad, my drinking hit an all-time high. When I had my son, I would stay with my parents and drink minimally. On the nights he was with his father, however, I would couch surf at friends’ houses and stay blackout drunk for days. I was a barely functional human being. Early the following year, my father was diagnosed with Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome, a rare type of dementia caused by severe alcoholism. I realized at that point that I was following in those same footsteps, and took a step back. I went from drinking daily to drinking once a month at most. My dad eventually succumbed to his disease on September 23rd, 2022 — my son’s fourth birthday. A few months after that, I quit drinking completely. Initially, when I started school, I had intentions of becoming a psychologist to help people overcome addictions. As life progressed, I realized that there was a better way to use my gifts to help others. I’ve since decided to pursue a bachelor’s in Christian Ministry in hopes of working alongside the local churches to help addicts and their families find recovery and peace.

I initially returned to college shortly before my oldest son turned four. I had gotten married not even two months before my first semester began, gaining two stepdaughters close to the same age as my son. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I kept pushing. That first semester became a crutch. My father passed away about a month into the term on my son’s fourth birthday. Instead of hyperfixating on my grief, I threw myself into parenting and schoolwork. My husband still jokes about my “emotional support statistics homework”. I was blessed to be able to take many of my classes online. With three young children at the time, it was much easier to focus on my coursework at night once they were in bed. I felt almost like a superhero back then — Mom by day, Super Student by night. During my second year, it became necessary to take an in-person class. The community college I went through was a twenty minute drive, but I made that drive twice a week. Many of the presentations I did for my classes had some connection to my children. In public speaking, I presented on car seat safety. In a human sexuality class, I did a presentation against circumcision, something that I became passionate about during my pregnancy with my oldest. Fortunately, by the time those in-person classes were going on, the kids were all in preschool. However, life threw us for a loop at the end of my third semester in school: I found out I was pregnant with my fourth. I finished my fourth semester and was allowed to walk in the graduation ceremony with the understanding that I needed to complete four credit hours that summer to actually get my degree. When I walked, I was massively pregnant, but had high honors and was a member of Phi Theta Kappa. During that summer term, I worked ahead as far as I could. My due date was around the same time as the end of the term. Life had other plans, though. My fourth child was born via emergency c-section at 34 weeks due to preeclampsia, right in the middle of the summer term. I was unable to complete the classes. I thought that was the end of the road for my education. Two years and another baby later, I am heading back to finish what I started, not just for me, but to prove to my family that I can. While I’ve had a change of heart with my degree, I think my abilities can better serve other families in Christian ministry than psychology. At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is hearing my kids cheer for me when I walk the stage. “That’s my mom!” is better recognition than a degree could ever give.

My name is Lindsay, and I am an addict. I have been clean from meth since November 28th, 2017, and sober from alcohol since March 4th of 2023. My father passed away from Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome, a rare type of dementia that only occurs in alcoholics, on September 23rd, 2022. It was son’s fourth birthday. When I lost my dad, it was a wake-up call to take better care of myself. I had already gotten off the harder drugs, but I was still heavily drinking far too frequently. Initially, I only slowed my drinking, but eventually I stopped altogether. As I worked through my grief without alcohol to numb it, I found God and leaned very heavily on Him. When I first started school, my goal was to help with addiction from a psychological standpoint as a therapist. While the associate degree I am working towards is in psychology, I intend to get my bachelor’s in Christian ministry instead. I hope to work with the local ministries to support active and recovering addicts and their families. By God’s grace, I have been healed, and I intend to spread His word to help others. I have found an incredible church that supports those same ideals, and I hope to be commissioned long before I complete my degree. Most people that learn the degree I am pursuing are shocked. Some have known me since I was in active addiction. I was a Satanist that practiced witchcraft (which sounds like a terrible stereotype, I know) and I was struggling with my mental health. At one point, I was in and out of psychiatric inpatient five times in four months. To those people, my growth from then to now seems impossible, yet here I am. Others tend to be surprised because of my appearance. I have a lot of piercings and tattoos, and have been told on more than one occasion I can be a bit intimidating. However, my exterior does not match my heart in that way; I love everyone and accept them as they are. Addiction taught me that this world can be beyond cruel, but by putting your faith in God and loving your neighbor like He taught, we can make it a better place during our time here. I hope that one of the results of getting a degree in Christian ministry is that other Christians that may see themselves as ‘black sheep’ or ‘outliers’ see that someone that doesn’t necessarily fit the mold has a place in the church. For some, it may be the difference between finding acceptance and recovery or continuing into the rut of addiction.