Twenty years ago, if you had told me that the darkest season of my life would also introduce me to the greatest love I’ve ever known, I would have laughed or cried or both. At the time, I wasn’t thinking about forever. I was thinking about survival.
When I walked through those doors, I was exhausted in a way sleep couldn’t fix. I was carrying shame, fear, and the quiet hope that maybe there was a different way to live than the one I had been choosing. I was fully addicted to heroin and the mother of a four-year-old daughter. I couldn’t be her mom as my addiction took over my life.
When I met him, I fell in lust, not love. I was broken, I wanted someone to like me, I hated myself, and I wanted to fill a void.
We didn’t meet in a dramatic, movie-worthy way. No slow motion, no lightning bolt. Just two broken humans sitting in the same space, doing the bravest thing either of us had ever done: telling the truth. There’s no pretending when you’re stripped down to your real story. You don’t lead with your accomplishments or your highlight reel. You lead with your pain. It was hard to be honest, and it was hard to stop using drugs.
What struck me about him wasn’t charm or confidence. It was him playing basketball, and me wanting to change the way I felt inside.
We became friends before anything else. In a place where romantic relationships were strongly discouraged, connections still happened. We talked about fear. About regrets. About who we were before life knocked us sideways, and who we hoped we could still become.
Rehab teaches you something the world rarely does: strength doesn’t look like having it all together. It looks like showing up on the days you want to disappear. It looks like asking for help. It looks like staying when leaving would be easier.
When we left rehab, we didn’t magically become fixed people with a perfect plan. We became two people committed to doing the work. Separately, first and then he moved in with me. It was too early in our recovery to do something that big; we ultimately started using it again for about a year. It was the worst year of my addiction of fourteen years, and we had to make a change.
I went into a Recovery Community Organisation and had to break up with him. I had to heal and figure out what recovery really was. I needed to be alone with other women like me, trying to get their lives together.
After months in the RCO, we eventually came back together. Slowly, we started dating, going to movies, dinner, and just learning about each other without the use of drugs. Our relationship was built slowly, intentionally, and with a lot of hard conversations.
We have been through a lot these twenty years; we have had our share of ups and downs. But I know he is my person and couldn’t imagine this life without him. We learned how to apologise and mean it. We learned that trust isn’t about perfection; it’s about consistency.
We built a marriage on faith and forgiveness. We built a family that understands grace because we’ve needed it ourselves. We built a life that doesn’t pretend pain never existed but refuses to let it have the final word.
We met at our most raw. At our most human. There was no illusion to shatter later. What you saw was what you got, and what we got was real.
Recovery didn’t just give us sobriety. It gave us the ability to choose each other every day, not out of dependency, but out of mutual respect and growth.
If you’re reading this and you’re in a hard season, whether it’s addiction, grief, burnout, or simply feeling lost. I want you to know this: life can change in places you never imagined. Hope doesn’t always arrive wrapped in pretty packaging. Sometimes it shows up in folding chairs, group rooms, and uncomfortable truths.
Twenty years ago, I walked into rehab trying to save my life. I walked out with the love of my life.
Honesty Liller has been in recovery from a substance use disorder since May 27, 2007, and is a Certified Peer Recovery Specialist in Virginia. She is the best-selling author of Scattered Pink and serves as the Chief Executive Officer of The McShin Foundation, a nationally accredited, peer-to-peer Recovery Community Organisation (RCO) that supports individuals and families dealing with substance use disorders. Recently, Honesty became a SHE RECOVERS Professional and hosts a monthly support group at McShin for women and non-binary individuals. In 2025, Honesty founded Honesty Liller Coaching, LLC, providing Transformational and Leadership Coaching to women, empowering them to unlock their full potential, build confidence, and lead with authenticity.