For the first time in months, I allowed myself to break down. Tears streamed from my eyes and I did not stop them or wipe them away. Sobs racked my core as I doubled over, gasping for air. The solid ground that I once stood on had crumbled beneath my feet, leaving me in an endless freefall toward rock bottom. My friend stroked my hair and repeated that everything would be okay in a reassuring whisper.

The first day of sobriety after two months straight of being on something all the time was the most painful experience I had ever had, both emotionally and physically. Reality came crashing down around me.

The simple fact that I had hurt and driven away every good person in my life was staring me in the face, and for the first time, I was ready to stare back. I was ready to own up to the sick cycle of abuse that I had made of my life.

I was ready to get help. Ready to begin my recovery.