Marking Women's History Month: A Reflection on Sobriety, Self-Acceptance, and Shaping My Legacy

Nicole Benoist, CPS, CCAR • Mar 29, 2024

As we conclude Women's History Month, I have been thinking about what being a woman means to me at this stage in life. In just a few weeks, I will (hopefully) enter my fourth year of sobriety, a journey that intersects with another milestone: my 50th birthday in November.


Reflecting on the woman I have evolved into, I am at peace. The false sense of all-knowing that once dominated my youth has given way to a welcomed uncertainty. My heart is open to the possibilities that life has yet to unveil—undiscovered people, places, and experiences. The path ahead is a beautiful unknown; I'm meeting it with open arms. My sobriety has been transformative, illuminating the brighter paths in life while diminishing the darker trails. Most importantly, it has taught me that my history does not dictate my destiny.


My journey through life has given me invaluable lessons about my limitations and the beauty of accepting them. The jewels of my existence—faith, family, career, a close circle of friends, and self-care—finally have the focus they deserve. Through forgiveness, I have learned to cultivate love and compassion for myself. 


I have discovered the strength to alter the course of my life through persistence, discipline, and patience. My spiritual connection has deepened in unimaginable ways, offering a new perspective on my relationship with God. The complex challenges of parenthood have revealed themselves as both the most demanding and rewarding endeavors of my life, underscoring the inevitability of imperfection. I've found vulnerability is not a weakness but a conduit to genuine connection, understanding, and profound love.


As I navigate through life, the narrative of my personal history continues to unfold, prompting introspection about the legacy I aspire to leave behind. The impact of my place in the world becomes of utmost importance—what does legacy mean to me? This question often guides my advice to my children: "Did you leave that conversation, person, or situation better than you found it?" My ambition is that my legacy will be the sum of positive daily interactions and acts of kindness that collectively contribute to a more compassionate world.


This reflection is not just a personal testament but a universal invitation to embrace the unknown with grace, to recognize the transformative power of self-acceptance, and to acknowledge the profound influence of individual actions on the fabric of our shared humanity.

Worth the Wait: Megan's Path to Lasting Addiction Recovery and Purpose

By Megan Miller, CAC • 29 Oct, 2024
I grew up full of fear. Everything terrified me. I never felt comfortable in my own skin. It wasn’t until I started smoking pot at 14—because I was too afraid to stand up to peer pressure—that I finally felt a sense of freedom and relaxation for the first time. I chased that high for the next 16 years. Somehow, I managed to graduate college with an OxyContin addiction, and after that, with nothing tethering me to the real world, things got a lot worse. I went to detox for the first of many times in 2005. I left there thinking I wasn’t an addict and that my use had just gotten out of control. That denial kept me in and out of treatment for the next decade. Heroin became my entire life. I couldn’t hold a job, I overdosed, I got Hepatitis C from sharing needles, and I didn’t care about anything except getting high. I was so full of shame at what my life had become, but I just couldn’t stop. I was great at trying to stop, but I couldn’t stay stopped. The gift of desperation came to me in April 2012. I couldn’t keep living the way I was. I finally wanted to live instead of die. That compulsion to use left me when I finally surrendered to it. Today, I wake up grateful for the life I have. My 6-year-old daughter is the greatest joy of my life, and she has never seen me use. Today, with the support of my wonderful husband, my family, and my recovery network, I live a full life of joy and purpose. There is no more rewarding feeling in the world than sharing the gift of recovery with others.

Overdose Awareness Day: A Reflection on Hope and Recovery

By Dave Aumiller, CPS, NCPRSS • 03 Sep, 2024
Overdose. It’s a word that catches in my throat and a topic that stops me in my tracks. As a person in long-term recovery from Alcohol Use Disorder (AUD) and Substance Use Disorder (SUD), I have overdosed many times. I have been revived by paramedics three times. Waking up in a hospital bed with no idea how I got there—scared. Or in the back of an ambulance, sick and angry for being Narcaned, a crazed hostage of my addicted mind. Or in a front yard, soaking wet from someone throwing me in a cold shower, unsuccessfully trying to revive me before leaving me outside—confused. These experiences don’t account for the countless times I have overdosed and been revived by a concerned party—now scarred by the trauma of my disease in its final stage, trying to carry out its final act, resulting in an untimely death. Overdose. After all of this, it was the kindness and care of others that made the difference between another chance and another day. Another dose of hope and life. An opportunity to begin again. On a day like today, reflecting on a topic that is so close to the heart of everyone connected to this reality, I am grateful. I am hopeful. I am humble. Because I know how lucky I am. How undeserving I was. And I live my amends and gratitude by doing my best to embody and live the values of a recovery that works. I also keep close to my heart, at the forefront of my mind, and on the tip of my tongue, the names of the countless others who weren’t as lucky as I. In honor of Overdose Awareness Day, I will say the names of my friends who weren’t fortunate enough to receive as many chances as I did, and I will live in their names—sober today and willing to extend a hand to anyone who needs it in their journey to recover and spread hope to both the sufferer and the caregiver.  Today, let us remember those we have lost, cherish the moments we have been given, and continue to fight for a future where overdose is a distant memory. Together, we can make a difference. Together, we can spread hope.

Overdose Awareness Day: Survivor's Guilt Transformed into Hope

By Shannon Schwoeble, CPS • 29 Aug, 2024
I was devastated when I heard that another close friend I'd made in treatment was gone. Seven friends in my first six months—two had come into treatment, left, and passed away while I was still there. In the years that followed, many others who had walked this path alongside me were lost as well. Nine in my first year of recovery. I found myself asking, "Why am I still here? Why didn’t they ‘get it’?"  Survivor’s guilt was not something I expected to experience in recovery. It hit me hard and fast when I began my journey in 2011. I was terrified. I would sit and think about friends I had just seen or spoken to—did they seem different? Did they sound off? I was so scared of who I would lose next. Through my work with a therapist and finding my own voice, I learned to transform my survivor's guilt into hope. I realized that by using my voice, sharing my story, saying their names, and talking about the profound impact each of them had on me—in life and in death—I could help others understand that recovery is possible. Perhaps, something I share will give someone struggling a glimmer of hope that they, too, can find recovery. On Overdose Awareness Day, August 31, we remember and honor those we've lost to this devastating disease. In loving memory of Ben, Pat, Krista, Harry, Christina, Brook, Dustin, Jeff, Jamie, and everyone we have lost—you are remembered and loved, today and every day.
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