A year ago I found myself laying on my living room floor staring blankly at the ceiling as tears ran down my face. I was defeated. I was less than six months into the official launch of my marketing business and I had already failed, or that is what I told myself at least. I fell into the trap of negative self-talk and repeatedly told myself all of the lies that I used to believe, some of them being my own and some being the lies of others. I began questioning everything about myself.
We are looking to feature other like minded women in recovery who are challenging themselves everyday to becoming the best version of themselves they can be! Are you interested in sharing your story and making a difference in the lives of others? Contact us today and share a little bit about your story, goals and achievements!
Are there times when you feel that no matter how hard you try you cannot seem to get ahead, that it is a constant battle of one thing after another, and you just feel like giving up? Well babe, you are NOT alone!
When Kari was just seven years old, she experienced a question that is unusual for a child of that age. The question was, “Is this all there is?” She knew this was not a common question.
Kari wondered if life was really this lonely and empty. A profound statement for a 7-year-old. That was also the same year she declared to her mother that she would become a cigarette smoker. And so she did but waited until she was a bit older, at age eleven.
“Hi. I’m Jennifer and I’m an Alcoholic” are words I never pictured saying when I was a child. In school, when they ask what you want to be when you grow up, I always listed model or actress or teacher. Never once, did I say I wanted to be an Addict. Yet, here I am at 39 years old with almost 6 years of sobriety, and proud to say that! The words alcoholic and addict don’t haunt me like they use to. They make up my testimony and allow me to share my experience, strength, and hope with others.
Meet Courtney aka Valentine Everly! Addict. That word to me was loaded, so full of terrifying images. I pictured frail girls on the most dangerous street in the most dangerous city of my small little state. I pictured them, erratic, climbing into cars or getting out. I pictured girls younger than me but looked older, selling themselves for a hit of crack. I'd drive by this street to get from work to home, and my heart would race. Those poor girls, I thought.