Recovery is the best decision I have ever made.

Before recovery, I was exhausted from being exhausted.

Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

In recovery, they say that once you become a pickle, you can't go back to being a cucumber.

Thank goodness.

Because being a cucumber meant sitting in the garden pretending everything was okay when it absolutely wasn't.

My life had become unmanageable—and so had my thinking.

For a long time, my solution was to check out. Sometimes through avoidance. Sometimes by trying desperately to quiet the constant noise in my mind.

Okay.

Mostly alcohol. Let's be honest.

Alcohol consumed my thinking from the moment I woke up until the moment I went to bed.

When Life Became Smaller

Years before I entered recovery, I developed severe vertigo.

Suddenly, things I had always been able to do became difficult. I couldn't safely drive. I struggled to focus. Eventually, I lost my ability to deliver mail because I could no longer drive or concentrate well enough to sort it.

I found another job close enough to home that I could walk if necessary.

And I was doing well.

I was close to moving into management.

Then I hit another bottom.

This time, anxiety became panic attacks.

I spent years trying to hold everything together while feeling like I was falling apart inside.

I drank to sleep.

I drank to escape.

I drank because I didn't know how else to turn off my mind.

And every morning brought another walk down what I called the Hall of Shame.

Who did I call?

Who did I text?

What did I say?

How did I act?

What do I need to clean up today?

I hid alcohol from my husband because I was terrified of not having enough before he came home with another bottle.

A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right?

Except eventually, it wasn't funny anymore.

I Had Nothing Left

I had no life force left in me.

I was physically exhausted.

Emotionally depleted.

Mentally overwhelmed.

Spiritually empty.

And one of the hardest truths I've had to face in recovery is what my addiction did to the people I loved.

There were times when my own family felt like they were getting in the way of what I wanted.

I acted as though it didn't matter whether they stayed in my life.

I wanted to alter my mind.

I wanted to party.

I wanted to escape.

More than anything, I wanted relief from the noise inside me.

I carried resentment and used it to fuel my addiction. Blaming circumstances, other people, and life itself was easier than looking honestly at what was happening within me.

For years, I lived as a victim of my circumstances.

Until one morning changed everything.

The Decision

After another night of drinking, I woke up carrying the familiar shame, fear, and exhaustion.

And that morning, I didn't want to live anymore.

Those thoughts weren't entirely new.

They had crossed my mind before—more times than I had ever admitted to anyone.

I grabbed a bottle, a few beers, a pack of cigarettes, and went outside.

Then I did something different.

I searched for help.

I looked up local treatment centers.

I made the calls.

I committed to detox and rehabilitation.

It was one decision.

One morning.

One moment when I chose something different.

And it changed the course of my life.

Recovery Was Only the Beginning

Recovery gave me a foundation.

But I soon realized that simply removing alcohol wasn't enough.

I needed to learn how to live.

I needed a new way of thinking.

I needed to understand my emotions.

I needed to recognize the beliefs, behaviors, resentments, and patterns that had been operating beneath the surface for years.

Because you cannot change something you cannot see.

You don't know what you don't know.

Recovery began giving me the awareness to finally look.

And once I could see, I could begin choosing differently.

The Life I Didn't Know Was Possible

Today, one of the greatest gifts recovery has given me is something incredibly simple:

I genuinely enjoy my family.

I enjoy my children.

I enjoy my husband.

I enjoy conversations.

Laughter.

Adventures.

Quiet moments.

And simply being together.

Those may sound like ordinary things.

To me, they are everything.

There was a time when the people I loved competed with my addiction for my attention.

Today, being present with them is part of the life I once couldn't imagine having.

This is my life.

Not the life I thought I wanted.

The life I didn't know was possible.

I am no longer ashamed of where I came from.

I'm proud of my past because it helped shape me.

I'm proud of my recovery because it allows me to sit beside someone who is struggling and say:

Change is possible.

My story isn't about perfection.

It's about transformation.

Every challenge.

Every setback.

Every uncomfortable truth.

Every lesson.

Every hard-earned victory.

Worth it.

#WorthIt

From Recovery to Service

As my recovery continued, service became an important part of my life.

I became involved in recovery service work, sponsored women, and experienced firsthand what happens when people stop trying to heal alone.

Eventually, my path led me to become a Certified Peer Support Specialist and Family Peer Support Specialist.

And that work changed the way I understood support.

Peer support isn't about fixing another person.

It isn't about becoming someone's rescuer.

It's about walking beside people while they build the skills, confidence, awareness, connections, and resources they need to advocate for themselves and create sustainable change in their own lives.

We can support.

We can encourage.

We can teach.

We can connect.

But ultimately, people begin discovering that they carry strengths of their own.

Finding More Pieces of the Puzzle

Along the way, I began exploring different approaches to wellness, personal growth, education, and healing.

And something became clear:

No single thing held every answer.

One approach helped me understand my thinking.

Another helped me understand my emotions.

Another helped me reconnect with my body.

Another helped me explore purpose and spirituality.

Community taught me connection.

Service taught me contribution.

Recovery taught me accountability.

Peer support taught me the power of walking beside another human being.

Each offered another piece of the puzzle.

Together, they helped me build a life worth living.

And Then Came The Humming Bird Space

The Humming Bird Space was born from that journey.

It grew from a simple belief:

Healing doesn't always happen through one program, one practitioner, one philosophy, or one modality.

Different people need different things at different moments in their lives.

For one person, that may be recovery.

For another, therapy.

Peer support.

Education.

Community.

Spiritual exploration.

Emotional work.

Movement.

Nature.

Service.

Or simply finally having somewhere they feel they belong.

There is no single path.

There is no one answer.

And there certainly isn't a one-size-fits-all human being.

The Humming Bird Space exists to bring support, education, resources, community, practitioners, and multiple wellness modalities together in one welcoming space so people can explore what genuinely supports them.

We don't replace sponsors.

We don't replace therapists, physicians, treatment providers, or mental health professionals.

We work alongside them.

Because meaningful wellness can require a community of support.

The Smallest Decision Can Change Everything

Healing requires participation.

Growth requires action.

Transformation requires willingness.

But it doesn't require perfection.

Whether you're navigating recovery, grief, anxiety, burnout, isolation, a major life transition, relationship challenges, or simply trying to understand yourself a little better, there is something I hope you take from my story:

You are not alone.

Change is possible.

A different life is possible.

And sometimes, an entire life begins changing because of one seemingly small decision.

Mine did.