My Story by Veronica

I’ve been addicted to drugs since I was 13 years old. That addiction took me to prison four different times. I’ve lived through moments I never thought I’d come back from.

At one point, I was doing well—I had completed drug court, I was married, we had a four-bedroom house, four dogs, a cat, a life. But I relapsed. And when I fell, I lost everything. We lost the house, our pets, everything we’d built. I ended up back in jail on a warrant.

I tried to get help once—I paid to get into a treatment facility. I pulled up to the building and just… couldn’t go in. I sat in the car outside. I ended up on the run again, and a month later, they picked me up. I went back to prison for 10 months. My wife was homeless during that time, living with our dogs and her daughter. When I got out, she was still using. I used the same night I came home. That was October 2022.

By January, my parole officer gave me an ultimatum: go to treatment or go back to prison.

I had seen Bridges of Hope before—I used to go to this weekly meeting and I’d see their staff bringing clients. I knew they were local, and I knew people trusted them. I didn’t want to leave my wife again, but I made the call. They said yes. It took me three days to show up—I kept pushing it back. I was terrified. But I finally went.

February 21, 9 a.m., I pulled up to the parking lot. An admissions team member, who used to be the house mom at a sober living I stayed at, came right out to help me with my bags. I had used meth right before I got there. My heart rate was high, my blood pressure was through the roof. I felt broken.

But they didn’t treat me like I was broken. They were kind. From the moment I walked in through the front door, they just… accepted me.

During my medical assessment, the nurse looked at me and asked, “Why did you want to come to treatment?” I broke down. I told her I wanted a better life. And I meant it. I’d been through recovery before, I knew what it looked like—but I just couldn’t stop using. This time, I knew I needed help.

The first time I tried to come to Bridges of Hope, I didn’t show up. But they kept calling. They didn’t give up on me. At times, it was honestly annoying how persistent they were. But that’s what I needed—people who didn’t give up. Who believed me. Who didn’t judge me. That’s rare when you’re deep in addiction. I didn’t believe in myself—but they did.

At first, I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t want to leave my wife behind. But they helped me through it. They even offered to help care for our dogs so my wife could go to treatment too. She wasn’t ready yet—but they were ready to help, no matter what.

That stay changed everything. My therapist helped me uncover things I never understood about myself. Like how fear was at the root of so many of my relapses. She asked me how I handled negative emotions, and I had no idea. She taught me to acknowledge those feelings without letting them take over. That was huge.

Just having a room to myself after months of living in a car or hotel—it gave me space to breathe. I learned about boundaries, fair fighting, the role of family in recovery. I learned how to start again.

Eventually, I got involved in Narcotics Anonymous, and I joined the Hospitals & Institutions Committee. When I found out they visited Bridges of Hope on the last Sunday of every month, I signed up. I hadn’t been back since I was a client. Walking through that door again, on the other side, was something I can’t even describe. I stood in the same spot I once arrived in broken, and now I was coming back to give hope.

That’s when I knew—I wanted to work here. I texted the business development lead and asked how to apply. I submitted my application that Tuesday.

Before that, I had been working as a welder—the only woman on my team. There was no growth. It was either make it or break it. This field, though—this work—it gives you purpose.

When I was in treatment, sometimes I just wanted to leave. I would pack my bags, ready to walk out and disappear. But a tech would talk me through it. Just having someone there in those moments—that’s where the real strength came from. Staying. Now, when I see clients in that place, I try to be that person for them. Because most of the time, they don’t really want to leave. They just don’t know how to stay.

Seeing clients come in, so broken, and then watching them grow—it’s the most rewarding thing in the world. I’ve had clients come back just to tell me they’re still clean. One dropped off clothes for new intakes the other day. It brought me to tears.

That’s why I do this. That’s why I stayed. Because I know how hard it is to walk through that door. And I know how powerful it is when someone helps you walk through it anyway.

Veronica Conner, Behavioral Health Tech at Bridges of Hope