Overcoming Addiction: My Journey From Prison to Practicing Lawyer and Advocate

Ten years ago, I was in federal prison. Today, I’m a lawyer and an entrepreneur, and I have an amazing life. It took a lot of work, pain, and discipline to get here, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

My experience—all of it—makes me the uniquely powerful and effective woman I am today.

My Struggles

I spent my entire adult life struggling with addiction and depression. I started with what many call gateway drugs—alcohol and tobacco—as a teenager. Both tasted nasty to me, and I didn’t particularly like being drunk.

What I loved was having something I could take—something external—to change the way I felt inside.

I picked up marijuana in high school, then discovered and quickly became addicted to heroin in college.

With the help of methadone, I graduated from college. In the years that followed, after numerous failed attempts at treatment and sobriety, I found myself addicted to methamphetamine. I started dealing small amounts to support my use.

Then, in 2005, I mailed some meth to a friend. The package was intercepted, and I was indicted on a felony conspiracy drug charge that carried a potential 10-year sentence.

Faced with such severe consequences, anyone without the disease of addiction would have been able to stop using. I couldn’t.

I served a year in prison, got out, and relapsed. When my continued use was discovered, the court revoked my supervised release—and I finally broke. I begged for help, and thanks to my public defender, I was allowed to go to treatment.

That was more than nine years ago, and I’ve been in recovery ever since.

Recovery and the System

Unfortunately, the court wasn’t interested in my recovery.

After completing treatment, I returned to court for my revocation hearing. The judge told me I hadn’t learned my lesson, and he was going to teach it to me.

He sent me back to prison for 18 months in a maximum-security facility for relapsing.

The first time I went to prison, to serve the year-long sentence for sending drugs through the mail, I was still trapped in the irrational mindset of addiction. I told myself my drug use wasn’t the problem. I had been set up. It was a fluke. I’d do my time and use the experience to write a best-selling memoir.

The second time, I had just completed treatment. I was ready and willing to stay sober and do whatever it took to build a life in recovery. The injustice of being sent back to prison for relapsing—for having the disease of addiction—broke me in a different way. I decided I needed to change things. And to do that, I would become a lawyer.

When I got out of prison, one of the first calls I made was to the state bar association. I told them about my past and asked if I could legally become a lawyer. The person I spoke with confirmed that my history did not disqualify me.

All I would have to do was prove my rehabilitation when the time came, after graduating from law school and passing the bar exam.

Choices and Decisions

Fresh out of prison, it took me months to find a job at a bagel shop making $7.25 an hour. I was ashamed, resentful, and angry.

I complained about it to a friend. After listening to me vent, he said, “I don’t think you understand the difference between a decision and a choice.”

He held up two pens. “Pick one,” he said. So I picked one. He asked me why I chose it, and I explained that I liked the color. He said, “That’s a decision. Try again.”

Several more times, I chose a pen and explained why. Finally, after choosing a pen again, he asked me why I chose it. Frustrated, I said, “Just because! For no reason at all!” “Exactly,” he said.

I was still confused. He explained that I was working at the bagel shop because I had decided it was what I needed to do to get where I wanted to go, just like choosing one pen over the other.

What I hadn’t done with the bagel shop job was choose to be there. I wasn’t choosing every day how to show up.

So from that day forward, instead of focusing on the negative and being irritated that I had to be there, I chose to show up without resentment. I made the best bagel sandwiches I could, with a smile on my face. That lesson continues to serve me every day.

We all make decisions, and there isn’t always an ideal option or even an option we want. Sometimes it comes down to picking the lesser of two evils. But what we always have is choice: how we show up once we’ve made a decision. I may not be able to control my circumstances, but I can always choose my attitude.

Law School and Persistence

I kept working at the bagel shop, and I took the law school admission test. Thanks to 15 months in prison studying, I got a good score.

I applied to four local law schools and was rejected by all of them. I was discouraged, but still hopeful. So I made appointments with the admissions directors and asked if I had any chance of getting in.

They all said yes. They just needed me to have a little more time out of prison, with continued sobriety, before they were willing to take that risk.

I reapplied, and I got in. Three of the schools even offered me partial scholarships. I started law school in 2011.

Facing My Past

During my undergraduate years, college had been a backdrop for my addiction. This time was completely different. I loved law school. I soaked up knowledge and cultivated authentic, meaningful relationships with everyone I could: professors, senators, representatives, judges, deans—you name it.

The administration knew about my past because I had disclosed everything in my application, but I didn’t share it with anyone else. A few students and professors who had Googled me pulled me aside to mention they knew, but to my surprise, they were supportive.

Still, I lived with constant fear that one day my past would become widely known and I would be exposed. That moment came at the beginning of my last year. I had chosen an internship with a county district court judge, which required a background check. I remember the gut-wrenching sinking feeling and thinking, “Well, here it is. It’s over.”

I asked the judge if I could speak with him privately. We sat down in his chambers, and I told him my story. By the time I finished, I was crying.

He looked me in the eye and said something I’ll never forget: “I spend my days sending people to prison, and you are the miracle that I hope for every day.” He actually asked, “Can I brag about you to the other judges?” to which I said, “Um, please don’t.”

From that day forward, he treated me as an equal. He often asked for my insight on issues, given my experience.

Full Circle

During law school, I volunteered more than 800 hours of pro bono legal services as a certified student attorney.

I helped women being released from state prison with civil legal matters so they would have a better chance of successful reentry into their communities. I also provided pro bono criminal defense representation in a diversionary treatment court where individuals with mental illness received treatment rather than punishment. Talk about coming full circle.

I graduated magna cum laude and was one of six students—out of a graduating class of more than 200—nominated by the faculty and administration for the Student of Merit Award.

I took the bar exam and passed. Then I received a letter from the board of law examiners congratulating me on passing, but telling me I would not be licensed due to character and fitness issues.

The next six months were hell—talk about retraumatizing. I had submitted character affidavits and documentation of more than seven years of proven recovery and rehabilitation, but none of it mattered.

The licensing board required adversarial hearings, psychological testing, a chemical dependency evaluation, and urinalysis. Finally, after six months of jumping through hoops, the board granted me a license to practice law.

Paying it Forward

That was two-and-a-half years ago. Today, in addition to practicing law, I teach legal professionals about addiction and recovery.

After a recent lunchtime presentation for judges and prosecutors, a judge approached me with tears in her eyes. She said, “I wish I had heard your story earlier. This morning in court, I sentenced a woman to jail time for relapsing, and I don’t think I would’ve done that if I had heard your story beforehand.”

I got goosebumps. What I once considered my unredeemable and shameful past has become one of my greatest assets.

My life is proof that recovery is possible. Our pasts do not define us, and every challenge can become a source of resilience and purpose.

Find Treatment Centers and Start Your Own Comeback Story

If you or someone you love is struggling, help is available, and recovery is possible. The right treatment can change the trajectory of your life, just as it changed mine. Visit Recovery.com to find drug and alcohol treatment centers, compare programs, and connect with support that fits your needs. Take the next step today.