Stories of Hope… Danielle Lopresti
Stories of Hope – Danielle Lopresti
“Those events that once made me feel ashamed and disgraced now allow me to share with others how to become a useful member of the human race.” pg. 492 Big Book AA
“I was born October 17, 1979, in Boston, MA. My parents were high school sweethearts, but eventually grew apart and separated when I was young. They both remarried and started new families, so I am the oldest of six siblings. This was not an easy transition for me because not only did I acquire two “new parents” within a short amount of time, all five of my siblings were born within five years of each other. Going from being an only child to having five siblings in such a short amount of time, I grew into the caretaker role; I believe this is where I found my self-worth for many years. I moved to Marietta, GA, with my mom, stepdad, brother, and sister at age eleven. When I first moved here, I found it very difficult to fit in; I spoke funny and was just an awkward adolescent. Although it was around this time I turned to an eating disorder for comfort, it was shortly after that I discovered alcohol was a source of comfort for me as well.
At thirteen, I was hanging out with older kids who liked to drink and smoke, and I finally felt like I had found people who accepted me. I managed to graduate high school and moved out on my own at age seventeen; during the next several years, I got heavily addicted to drugs and constantly moved and changed jobs. At age twenty-three, I went to my first treatment center; a couple of treatment centers later, I found out I was pregnant with my first son. I managed to stay sober during most of this pregnancy but never made a firm resolution to change my life. When my son was seven months old, I was arrested for possession of heroin with a minor in the car. To this day, I feel like one of the arresting officers was my guardian angel. He allowed me to call my mom and get my son; I spent several days incarcerated at the Rice Street jail in Atlanta. When I got out, I remember the shame that I felt when my mother wouldn’t even let me hold my child due to poor life choices. However, she allowed me to stay at her house to go through Cobb County drug court. I thrived in drug court and managed to stay sober for five years; my life was amazing. Unfortunately, I lost focus on what was important to me and got involved in a toxic relationship. During this time, I had a severe back injury, and just like that, I forgot I was a drug addict and started taking pain medicine. Eventually, the doctor caught me abusing the pain medicine and cut me off. I had been off the heroin for seven years, but I knew it would help with my sickness, and so my addiction was off in full force once again.
Then, I found I was pregnant with my youngest son; I would love to tell you I stopped using immediately; it would be a lie. I was so afraid of losing the baby if I stopped using or DCFC being called on me, so I continued to use up until the day he was born. My son was in the hospital for six weeks tapering off the drugs. This was the most shameful thing that I had ever been through, and it brought me down a very dark road.
On September 14, 2017, I walked through the doors at The Extension. I was utterly defeated, homeless, my kids had been taken away from me, and I had very little hope of recovery. I didn’t want to be there, but I also didn’t want to be anywhere else; the truth was I didn’t want to exist any longer. The first week I was in treatment, I was served custody papers to have my oldest son relocated to New York. I was devasted, but I knew if I left, I would get high, and there would be no hope of any relationship with him. As time went on, I started to see a little bit of light; it was seeing the Alumni come back and share their stories of hope with us ladies. I had a wonderful counselor at the time. She was the first person I ever truly trusted. I was able to get gut-level honest with her about some stuff that happened to me as a child and a teenager. She helped me work through some of the most traumatic events that I had never discussed with another human being.
I went to court and lost the custody case, and my oldest son was relocated to New York. This was the saddest day of my life, and I had to feel every ounce of pain without drugs; I wanted to run. I decided to stay for 24 hours and see how I felt. I woke up the next day, willing to stay and fight for my life by the next day.
My mom had custody of my youngest son and was very firm with her boundaries. I was not going to reunite with him until I finished the program. On June 15, 2018, I transitioned from The Extension and slowly reunited with my youngest son. My life was good, but unfortunately, I rested on my laurels and found myself in trouble again; it was for a short time, but it almost cost me everything that meant anything to me. I quickly reengaged in meetings and started to get back into therapy and give back to the women at The Extension.
A couple of years later, I have full custody of both my children. My oldest son came to visit me last Christmas, and I made amends to him, and he asked to come to live with me. My youngest son has autism, and I get to show up for him daily, help him transition through life, and show him that he has a mom who loves him and will not leave him again. I recently signed up for school, starting in January. My passion is to help people, especially children. Sobriety has given me the life that I never knew existed, and I owe a big part of my sobriety to The Extension.”
