From Lost to Found: Jamie’s Journey Home

When I was 15, life for most kids was filled with sleepovers, staying up late on the phone, learning how to drive, or just hanging out with friends. But in my house, “normal” looked a little different. My mom and I smoked marijuana together. At the time, I did not know this was not the way life was supposed to be. Over the next couple of years, I was going to rave parties, experimenting with ecstasy, and stepping deeper into a world I did not fully understand.

By age 18, everything changed. I entered into a relationship that introduced me to heroin, and not just heroin, but using it intravenously. That was the beginning of my life spiraling out of control.

The next few years were a cycle of getting clean and relapsing, struggling to function while living as an addict. At 21, I gave birth to my first child, a beautiful baby boy. But I was not ready to be a mother. My grandparents stepped in to care for him because I could not stop using. I tried to get clean at times, working two jobs to stay afloat, but the cycle always pulled me back in. Before long, my health began to deteriorate, and I found myself in the hospital requiring a heart valve replacement. Even that did not stop me.

I had two daughters after my son, but my addiction took them from me. DCF removed them from my home, and my daughters were adopted by a loving family and my son who was now 17 chose to become emancipated. Losing them broke me in ways I did not know where possible, but it was the best decision I made for them. When my relationship with my son’s father ended, I found someone new and with him came crystal meth. This drug destroyed me completely. I found myself in an abusive relationship, trapped in cycles of violence and addiction.

I was no longer the Jamie I thought I knew. I was experiencing psychotic episodes, convinced I could read minds, wandering aimlessly for hours. One day, I collapsed outside a restaurant, so far gone I did not even know my own name. I remember looking at my phone and seeing the word “Mom.” I called the number and asked the person on the other end “my mother,” “What is my name?” She told me and instructed me to look at my ID to confirm. I was completely unrecognizable, even to myself.

My addiction landed me in the hospital again. This time, I needed a second open-heart surgery and a pacemaker. But the doctors made it clear: no rehab, no surgery. I had no car, no job, no home, and no one willing to help me. I agreed to rehab because I had no other choice.

While I was in rehab, I finally had the time and the courage to face myself. I spent 19 months there, rediscovering the Jamie I had lost when I was a teenager. I learned about forgiveness, love, and how to embrace sobriety. I started reading the Bible, something I did every single day. I did not know it then, but God was preparing me for what came next.

One month before I was set to graduate, my son, who was 19 at the time, died of a fentanyl overdose. He had taken a Xanax that was laced with fentanyl. I will never forget the pain of losing him. But God and the rehab program gave me the tools to process that pain. I had to forgive myself for not being the mother he needed. I had to trust that God had a plan for me, even in the darkest moments.

After rehab, I joined a one-year program called Angels of Mercy. There, I found a family. I began to rebuild trust with my daughters. Slowly but surely, my life started to take shape. I moved into a house with a roommate, but the conditions were terrible, rats, disrepair, and instability. I knew I could not stay there, but I did not know where else to go.

That is when I heard about Central Florida Home for Good (CFHG). With the help of Angels of Mercy, I applied for an apartment. When I got the call that I had been accepted, I cried tears of joy, because I never thought I would have an apartment in my name. For the first time in years, I had a safe, stable place to call home. It was not just a roof over my head, it was a sanctuary.

The apartments are beautiful and affordable, but it is so much more than that. CFHG is a community. We get gift cards, attend events, and feel cared for in ways I never imagined. Kim, the President of CFHG, is not just a leader, she is a friend, a mentor, someone I can always count on. I have never had that before.

Now, at 44, I finally have a place where I feel safe. I have built a relationship with my daughters, who are thriving. My 16-year-old has a job and is taking college classes in high school, set to graduate with an AA degree. My 14-year-old is doing great too. One of our first outings together was a glass-blowing class, a memory I will treasure forever.

Today, I work part-time as a substance abuse counselor, helping others find their way out of the darkness I lived in for 20 years. My mom, who was once trapped in the same cycle as me, now has 17 years of sobriety. She is my best friend, and we share a bond that feels like a miracle. Her journey inspires me every day.

On March 3, 2025, I will thank God for five years of sobriety. Five years of choosing God, choosing life, of choosing love, of choosing to fight for myself and my family. CFHG gave me more than housing, they helped give me my life back. Through God’s grace, I have forgiven myself and found peace. For two decades, I was lost.

But now, I am found.