Rachel Mullins
Psyche is powered by Vocal creators. You support Rachel Mullins by reading, sharing and tipping stories... more

Psyche is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.

How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.

How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.

To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.

Show less

My Recovery, My Journey

We do recover.

We do recover.

“Do you know where you are?” All I hear are sirens and this man screaming at me. “Where did these pills come from? Why won’t you tell me?” The paramedic keeps asking me these questions, and several other not so nice things. I’ve really done it this time. I really OD’d.

Let me start from the beginning. I haven’t always been a “junkie.” I used to be a cheerleader, an academic scholar, the class officer. I was it all. I graduated high school with an immediate acceptance into a registered nursing program. All the while, from the age of 16, I was a closet addict.

That first sip of alcohol at a party wasn’t enough to get me hooked, but that first opiate sure was. When I began using opiates, I used them because of pain. By the time I used them twice, I was hooked! So then, I began the use of opiates “secretly” for three years by lying, stealing, and every other way I knew possible. No one knew but me, but I quickly learned what’s done in the dark comes to the light.

At age 19, as a nursing school failure who just recently lost the one relationship that I knew I’d be in forever, due to his infidelity, I let my guard down. I started slipping. The drug abuse and alcohol abuse was very apparent to everybody, especially my employers and families. It didn’t take long for the alcohol, Xanax, and opiates to land me unemployed, arrested for my first time, and on my way to a nice little place of sunshine and rainbows called “rehab.”

I managed to maintain sobriety for a little while after rehab, but I knew I wouldn’t stay clean. I only went because it was that or jail. Yes, I liked the idea of not being dependent on a substance, but I knew it wouldn’t work.

Fast forward a few months, and I met the devil himself—the man I thought was my second chance, and I was going to “save” him. I, myself, just as screwed up as he was, but I knew I’d get him to stop drinking. Here are just some highlights from the 14 months I was with him:

  1. He was arrested the first time for a DUI after totaling a car on the way to pick me up.
  2. He went to rehab and was semi clean for a whole month (maybe?).
  3. DUI number two by the same state trooper as the first one.
  4. Constant drinking still, caught him texting his now wife that he cheated on me with.
  5. Threatened to kill both of us by putting a gun to both of our heads in an alcoholic rage.
  6. Turned his parents against me.
  7. Started doing cocaine at his job, so became more increasingly violent.

He ended up leaving me in a text message and was with the new girl literally a day later. They’re married, and he’s clean (supposedly). I’m honestly happy he’s happy. Don’t let this article fool you; I’m just letting you know how I got to the point I was at.

After this, I met my baby daddy within three months. I instantly knew we had a connection unlike any other, but he had heard stories about me. We only engaged in intercourse twice, then a fateful night something bad happened.

July 21, 2017, I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been. I was convinced to drink a mixed drink that someone prepared, not knowing what was in it. Five hours later, I wreck my vehicle and I’m arrested for a DUI and possession charge. I was drugged, raped, and I still honestly do not know where the pills came from that I had on me when I was arrested.

After my arrest, I went wild. I started partying like crazy again. Upon seeing how wild and drugged out I was, my baby daddy left me. I got heavily on cocaine and any kind of opiates. This continued on until August 17, 2017. The fateful night I overdosed.

To this day, I don’t know how I got ahold of fentanyl, but I did. I had three patches in my system and a lot of cocaine. I was given Narcan three times just to wake up, and an additional time for blood pressure. I should have died, but I didn’t.

I was given an ultimatum to find a rehab or live on the streets, so I did go to rehab. I detoxed on my parents’ couch cold turkey for a week, and then I flew to Texas. The night before I dreamed I was pregnant with a little boy, and I couldn’t shake the dream.

I took a pregnancy test in admissions, and it came back positive. My heart stopped. How did I deserve this blessing? Can I do it? How did this child survive the overdose?

I was transferred to a rehab in California due to the pregnancy, and let me tell you, that was the best thing to happen to me. I have been clean a little over a year, raising a healthy baby boy and back with my sweet baby daddy. While there’s so much more good and a lot more bad to my story, these are the basics. While my life may not be perfect, I have a life again. I am living life on life’s terms. From losing everything last year, I have my own home, my own car, a good job, and a wonderful little family. Learning to trust that thy will (not mine) be done was the best thing for me.

Recovery is possible.

Now Reading
My Recovery, My Journey
Read Next
Accepting Your Mental Illness