Recovery through Vulnerability
Recovery through Vulnerability
By Jaana Woodbury
"I woke up on January 11, 2012 to family and friends sitting in a circle holding my daughter begging me to go to treatment."
It was another grim morning in January. I was laying on the floor of my in-law’s house having gotten no sleep wondering how I was going to get through another day physically and emotionally. I was addicted to opiates and felt like I had no way out. I was enthralled with shame because I was barely making ends meet not just for me, but for my daughter, who was only two at the time. I remember often deciding if I was going to get our necessities that day or use our resources to feed my addiction. I couldn’t understand why being a mother wasn’t enough to get sober. I knew I loved my child and never wanted to put her in harm’s way, but why couldn’t I just stop?
Addiction is something that is so commonly misunderstood. Many always wonder, “why can’t you just quit?” or “how could you be so selfish when you have children?” At the time, I had zero education on WHY I was choosing a path that was causing such hardship. I was so frustrated that I just couldn’t get my life together. I was sick and tired of feeling inferior to everyone around me and was always daydreaming of having a different reality.
Something I have learned through time is that addiction is progressive and that the substance is merely a symptom of what's truly going on. When I look at my history, I can see the moments of clarity I had. I see someone who was trying to navigate unresolved traumas and resorted to substances to medicate, to numb out. My past was never about my love for my daughter, or “lack thereof,” but more about having lost a sense of identity and purpose and submitting to a quick fix solution. A solution that left me empty handed and craving for more.
I woke up on January 11, 2012, to family and friends sitting in a circle holding my daughter begging me to go to treatment. If I chose not to go, then I would have been asked to leave, without my daughter. In that moment, my initial instinct was, “I don’t have a problem!” I am not sure what ended up changing, but I finally agreed to go. I’ll never forget going to the airport completely broken and just praying that everything will be okay. Some would call this the "prayer of desperation” and although this is what I had, I also acknowledged for the first time that I was hopeless and needed help.
I ended up staying in treatment for 8 months and my daughter came to be with me at about two months in. I was learning to be an emotionally present parent again, but more importantly, I was nurturing and healing the relationship I had with God and myself. I was allowing myself the opportunity to learn about old belief systems that no longer served me and that I was never a “bad” mom, but someone who was suffering from addiction. Also, I learned that our initial thoughts aren’t always right, and that challenging emotions are fleeting and temporary! Whether there is an addiction component or not, we as humans get to experience the dualities of life, that is suffering and happiness…and shame and resiliency. Honoring these states of our being is ultimately what makes us human.
Something I have learned in recovery is that being a complete person and grounded in who I am is the BEST thing I could do for anyone around me, but more importantly as a mother. Being an example of a woman comfortable in her in her own skin and committed to her faith, worth and confidence is the best GIFT I can give my children.
I am almost 10 years in recovery now and have had three more daughters since. Through my journey, I have gained a deep understanding of how important my spirituality and connection to God and others are. I am now committed to leading a life that transmits authenticity and truth, MY truth. Through the years, I have been able to share with my children the importance of honoring who they are and to be unapologetic and fearless in how they choose to show up. I share with them that it’s okay to be vulnerable, that they are whole no matter what.
I share my story because I know that I am not the only one who has struggled with addiction and mental health. I understand what it feels like to have lost all hope and feel like I had nothing to offer as a mother, wife, and friend. I know what it’s like to compare yourself to others and think that their life must be so much better. I know what it’s like to feel as if ALL I can do that given day is just, show up, because sometimes showing up is hard.
I am living hope. I am living proof that it’s possible to defeat addiction and mental health. Together, we can be vulnerable which in turn, leaves space for others to be vulnerable. This is how healing happens.
This is recovery. Let’s talk about it.
-Jaana Woodbury
Published September 21, 2021