“I was absolutely out of control in the hospital. There was this one doctor, a female doctor and I attacked her: kicked her and all. It’s all good now, we are sweet. I was so unmanageable that they had to strap me down. It was the one thing I wanted to avoid. Getting clean was the last thing on my mind, but I knew there was no other way. Eventually, the doctors managed to get me off the heroin and although still on prescription drugs, I was admitted to the women’s clinic. I was induced at 4 months. It was an absolute nightmare. No sedatives, no anaesthesia, nothing. I was dilated and the baby came out. I saw it. Later on, when I was sedated, I thought I was in Istanbul. I hallucinated that the whole procedure took place in Istanbul. This was my 3rd or 4th abortion, and yet it wasn’t a good reason for me to stop using. I didn’t care about the baby, the mere thought of it annoyed me.”
From my first book, «My Father Was Beautiful» — Gabriella Rothman, 2010
My Story
I’m glad to share a short version of my recovery journey on the NEOVIVA platform. I was raised in two families, each with its own distinct mindset. After my parents divorced, I lived between two worlds that often felt like opposites.
Growing Up Between Two Worlds
In my mother’s family, appearances were everything. I was taught to eat properly at the table, to always look perfect, and to care deeply about what others thought. It mattered not only how I looked but also how I behaved because in their eyes, our reputation was everything. I had to excel in school, win every competition, and never show any flaws.
My father’s family, on the other hand, was completely different. For him, it wasn’t about how I looked or what others thought of me. The focus was solely on my mind, my studies, and how well I was doing in school. He was strict and aggressive, and his expectations were high, but in a different way. My value, according to him, came from what I knew and how well I performed academically.
Navigating these two contrasting worlds was challenging. On one side, I was expected to be a model of perfection in appearance and behaviour. On the other, my worth was measured by my intellect and academic success. Balancing these expectations left me struggling to find my own identity, often feeling like I wasn’t enough for either family. But it also taught me a lot about resilience and the importance of defining my own values and self-worth.
The Descent into Addiction
What I always felt that I had to fight for love. In both families, I believed they would only love me if I was the best. I constantly strived for external validation, trying to be perfect in everything I did just to feel worthy of their affection. I didn’t feel safe or loved, nowhere felt like home.
From an early age, I began to cope with pressure in my own way. I turned to food, overeating to numb myself and find comfort. At the same time, I was constantly over-exercising, pushing my body to the limits. I was caught in this cycle of extremes, craving something to fill the emptiness I felt inside. I also started shutting down emotionally. I stopped speaking about what I was going through, locked away my feelings and didn’t let anyone in. I became disconnected from my emotions, unaware of what I was truly experiencing inside. When dreaming, overeating, and locking my feelings away stopped being enough to numb my emotional pain, I turned to alcohol. I was just 17 when I realised, I couldn’t stop. I would drink at school whenever and wherever I could. Finally, it felt calm and peaceful.
Then, I met a guy who was a heroin addict. Being with him opened the door to a whole new world of mystical darkness I hadn’t known before. I started using heroin with pills, and that marked the beginning of a long, painful journey. It wasn’t just about the substances. I was spiralling, getting caught up in things I never imagined. My heroin addiction journey was an absolute nightmare. It plunged me into a world of darkness I never thought I’d experience. There were constant encounters with the police, ganging with the mafia, endless nights and weeks in hospitals, and living on the streets. I went through multiple abortions and found myself caught in situations I’m not proud of, even resorting to some form of prostitution just to get by.
I became a deadbeat. My life was completely unmanageable, and I lost all control. I felt utterly powerless against my addiction. I reached a point where I wanted to end it all, and I seriously thought about taking my own life. That was when I hit rock bottom and ended up in the hospital for six months. From there, they guided me into what would become my last rehab. I stayed there for two years, slowly rebuilding myself piece by piece. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was the most important learning period in my life.
Finding Peace and Gratitude in Recovery
Today, With the grace of God, l am 24 years and six months clean and sober. I didn’t touch any alcohol or drug in all this time. I learned to face my demons, to heal, and to finally believe. Continuing my personal growth and my “spiritual journey” until the end of my life. I am not a victim of my past anymore.
In my recovery, l learned how much pain I was hiding from myself, how much I was using chemicals, food and movement, love, seeking self-pleasure to escape from reality and what I couldn’t express. It took me a long time to start understanding my feelings and to realise that I had a right to them, that it was okay to feel and to share what was going on inside me. It took me a long time to realise that real love isn’t something you have to earn by being perfect. It’s about being accepted for who you are, with all your strengths and flaws. That realisation has been a big part of my recovery—learning to give myself the love I was always seeking from others. Today, l feel extremely grateful for everyone who helped me in my recovery journey and also for the 12-step programmes which keep me sober and spiritually fit today.
My healing journey was so significant that it motivated me to attend university and study more deeply and today I’m here, sharing my story not just as a testament to my own journey but as a message of hope for others. Recovery is possible, even when it seems impossible. It’s a long path, but every step forward is a victory. Thank you for allowing me to share this part of my life and the magic of sobriety.
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