Hi, Im Kelli Ann….

I am a 35-year-old single mom who has battled mental health and substance abuse issues for nearly my entire life. For over two decades, this fight consumed me, leaving deep scars on myself, my loved ones, and the life I tried to build. The consequences were devastating—homelessness, jail time, losing my son, countless relapses, and a crushing sense of hopelessness. I lost my values, morals, trust, and nearly all human decency. At one point, I had all but given up on the idea that recovery could ever be possible for me.

I tried everything to get clean, but each attempt seemed like another failure—not just for me, but for everyone around me. The guilt and shame were unbearable. But over time, healing has allowed me to face that hurt, take accountability, and begin offering myself forgiveness.

My turning point came after giving birth to my precious little mini-me. I realized I was exhausted from fighting the same battle over and over, and I knew I had to change—not just for myself, but for him. It became essential that my son never witnessed me in the grips of addiction. I wanted to break the cycle so he would not endure the same pain and hardships I faced growing up.

Over six years ago, I made a desperate but willing commitment to change. Today, I am profoundly grateful for every trial I’ve walked through, because each one shaped me into a stronger and more confident woman—and mother. The truth is, for the majority of the past 20 years, I lived in active addiction, weighed down by untreated mental health struggles, trauma, and PTSD. That combination was lethal.

A defining moment was when I relinquished guardianship of my four-month-old son. I could not bear the guilt and shame of exposing him to my addiction, and I knew a downward spiral was coming. It was rock bottom. Every day after that point felt like survival mode. I didn’t know if I could beat this disease, but I knew I had to try.

In early recovery, everything felt huge and overwhelming. This wasn’t my first attempt at recovery, but it felt like the first one that truly mattered. Each step, each breath, each thought felt like uncharted territory. I wanted recovery desperately, and I knew the odds were stacked against me. I watched people around me overdose, die, or end up in prison—leaving behind families, children, and broken hearts. I was determined not to be one of them. I wanted to live, really live, and break free from the cycle.

I aspired to become the person others had once believed I could be. Deep down, I knew I had the strength, but fear, guilt, and shame held me hostage. In the beginning, it truly was a minute-by-minute battle. Even now, I still wrestle with the question of what came first—my mental health struggles or my addiction. But what I do know is that I live with both, and I can address both with recovery work and medication management.

One thing I’ve learned is that complacency is dangerous. If I stop working on either my recovery or my mental health, I slip back into old patterns quickly. It takes active, intentional effort every single day.

Recovery is possible. For anyone, anywhere.

That is my hope for this blog—that my story helps someone else feel less alone. That my words become a place of strength, connection, and healing. Because this is how we survive the odds: together.