My name is Haylee, and I am an addict. I started using drugs at the age of 11. My parents were good parents; my mom worked five jobs to keep a roof over our heads, and my father did the best he could. However, my father is also an active addict. I haven't seen or spoken to him since I was 16. At that age, I became homeless in Southern New Jersey. Over the years of using drugs, being young on the streets, nearly dying, meeting people who didn't have my best interests at heart, and not working through my traumas, I lost a lot of myself. When I decided to get clean, I knew I had a lot of learning to do. At 19, I took my first (forced) steps into the world of 12-steps. Did I want to get clean? Absolutely not. Was I forced into it by my family? Yes. Did it last? Not for long. From 19 to 21, I was "clean," meaning I wasn't using my drugs of choice. Instead, I substituted my addiction by abusing mental health medications. In August 2018, my best friend Heather, whom I met in recovery, passed away from an overdose. My full-blown relapse began. From October 2018 to February 2020, I entered 37 rehabs and 27 detoxes, completing only two. I was either kicked out or left against medical advice (AMA) in all the others. Primarily, I went to treatment for food, a shower, and some sleep, leaving before morning check-ins. I went missing without a trace for months at a time, with my family searching for me. On December 2, 2019, everything came to a head when I overdosed for the first time. At 22, thinking I was invincible, I was terrified when I woke up in a hospital with Narcan mainlined into my neck. The doctors gave me Zofran and child-sized scrubs because I was covered in blood, vomit, and other bodily secretions. I was 104 pounds and dying, but I wasn't done. On February 6, 2020, I decided treatment wasn't going to work for me. I had already been in treatment for over a month and wasn't "cured," so I believed I was never going to make it. What did I do? I left AMA and got high again. After four overdoses in six hours, I made the call to go to treatment again. This time was different. After being picked up in Atlantic City, NJ, and brought to treatment in PA, I completed the intake and fell out. I woke up three days later, facing new problems. I didn't die, but I did have to face something worse: being a prisoner in my own body. I couldn't walk, talk, shower without drowning, clean myself, or even brush my teeth. The facility was going to send me to an adult care facility for the rest of my life. February 7, 2020, was the best day of my life, though I wasn't awake for it. I was finally away from drugs. It took two weeks for me to be able to walk, talk, and be independent again. Today, I am almost 4.5 years clean. Today, I have a purpose. Today, I work in treatment. Today, I am Haylee. Today, I am free. Today, I can help.