For a long time, I fought to find recovery, constantly falling back into old patterns, feeling trapped in a cycle that I thought I would never break. Many know my story, but if I had to pinpoint the exact moments when I began to find my way, two stand out more than anything.

First, I became incarcerated, and my child became my cellmate. In that moment, the reality of my choices hit me harder than ever. I knew deep down that I needed to change, not just for myself but for my child. Then, not long after, my mother passed away while I was still incarcerated. I had this false belief that the world would be the same as it was when I first started using. But I was wrong. Life had moved on, and the consequences of my actions were staring me in the face. I had the opportunity to see my mother one last time while I was in a federal penitentiary, housed in a provincial correctional center. In that moment, I promised her that I would change my life. I confessed things I had never told her before, laying bare all my mistakes, my guilt, and my pain.

It was in the darkest moments of my incarceration that I began my transformation. If you can find healing inside the walls of a penitentiary—the most toxic environment to seek recovery—then you can find it anywhere. For me, recovery wasn’t just about quitting drugs or leaving behind the lifestyle of gangs and violence. It was about transforming the values that had guided my life for so long. Dishonesty turned into honesty. Hate into love. Ego into humility. Resentment into forgiveness.

I had to clean up the inside, and that’s a process that never stops. Recovery is a lifelong journey, one that we will always walk until the day we die. There’s always something within ourselves to work on.

After being released, I continued that journey. I asked my parole officer to support my healing, and she did, because they didn’t want to see me return to prison. I worked extensively on myself for months, and eventually, I was offered a position with STR8 UP. This opportunity allowed me to grow personally and professionally, connecting with community supports and sitting on various boards and committees, sharing my lived experience. My voice wasn’t just for me anymore; it was for all those who hadn’t yet found theirs.

Every day in recovery looks different. Some days are messy, some days are hard—because life is messy and hard. But it’s how we deal with it that matters. Rather than turning to sex, drugs, alcohol, or violence, I’ve learned to navigate life in a healthier, more positive way.

If I had to sum up my recovery, I’d say it’s a total transformation from within. I’m no longer a product of my environment—I am a product with purpose.