The New London Sober House: A 12-Month High and the Hotel Hopping Low

Leaving Stonington the first time, I had absolutely nothing. No home, no plan, and nowhere to go. Out of options, I looked into the sober living community at Recovery 12 in New London. They have several men's and women's houses scattered across the city, and I managed to secure a bed in a humongous house with 25 other women.

They came from all walks of life, some fresh out of jail, some straight from rehab, and others who had been there for a while. It was a massive crowd to adapt to, but adapting quickly is what I do. Luckily, one of my roommates from Stonington was also there, and we ended up sharing a room with three other women. Having our own bathroom was a major win.

Grind to Get Back on Your Feet

Recovery 12 didn't play around. They pushed you to get your life back together, which was exactly what I needed because I felt completely lost. We had weekly house chores, mandatory house meetings, and NA meetings. Plus, you couldn't stay in the house during the day; you had to be actively looking for employment.

I hit the pavement and got a job waitressing at PizzaRama. I absolutely loved it. The money was great, and I built a fantastic crew of friends to hang out with when I wasn't working. I was doing everything right: actively attending NA, making money, and rebuilding.

I even started dating again, but I fell right back into old patterns. I got caught up in an on-and-off relationship with a guy I really liked, even though I knew he was toxic. No matter how hard I tried to stay away, we always found our way back to each other.

Still, my recovery was going so well that I transitioned into the higher-phase houses with fewer women places where everyone had several months or even a year or two of sobriety. It was the exact positive environment I needed.

The Perfect Storm: Triggers and Loss

Then, life problems started piling up again. The bullshit with my ex regarding my daughter escalated. I wasn't seeing her as much as I wanted to, and it killed me inside knowing another woman was spending more time with my daughter than her own mother.

On top of that heartbreak, my favorite uncle was dying of cancer. He passed away on January 7th, the day before my birthday and I never got to say goodbye. The grief and the stress were too much. On my birthday, January 8th, I picked up and used.

Once you use, the sober house kicks you out immediately. That kicked off a brutal, chaotic cycle of hotel hopping.

The Hotel Circuit: Red Roof Inn to the "Functional" Grind

I learned one of my friends and her man had also been kicked out, so I called them and we split a room at the Red Roof Inn. If you know the New London/Groton area, you know that place has a terrible reputation. It’s a magnet for drug addicts and dealers.

I stayed with them for a month and a half. But drugs make people paranoid. My friend convinced herself that her man and I had something going on which we absolutely didn't.

They fought constantly, dragging me right back into the chaos of my past. When two guy friends of mine got a room across the street at another hotel, I moved in with them for a couple of weeks just to get away from the drama.

The crazy part? I was working every single day just to afford the rooms while actively using. I was back to being a functional addict. But that lifestyle always catches up to you. I was on supervised probation and started failing my drug tests. Probation gave me an ultimatum: go back to treatment. So, I went back to Stonington for a second time, this time for 45 days.

Déjà Vu and Rock Bottom

When I got out of Stonington the second time, I was lucky. Recovery 12 took me back, and so did my boss at PizzaRama. I will always be incredibly thankful to him for giving me another chance.

I spent another six months living there, working nonstop, and then like clockwork the exact same problems triggered me again. It was pure déjà vu. I used for a few months until the house manager realized something was off, drug-tested me, and I failed. Out on the street again.

This time, the hotel hopping was even more desperate. I got back with that toxic guy, and we bounced between motels until we had a massive blowout. Then I was entirely on my own.

I ended up meeting an Uber driver who owned his own house. He was driving me everywhere daily, watching my money deplete fast because he saw firsthand all the hotels I was paying for.

I actually violated probation during this time, got arrested, and sat in jail for a few hours. Even knowing I was now facing 12 months in prison, like an idiot, I kept using. The Uber driver offered me his spare room to save me money. I stayed there for about two months. When I wasn't working, we became close he was a high roller, so we were always going to Mohegan Sun or out to eat. But I fucked it up again. I started using in his house, and he had zero tolerance for it. He kicked me out.

The Final Descent

I crashed with a girlfriend at her hotel for a couple of weeks, using heavily. From there, I moved into a guy friend's apartment, and that place was pure chaos. There were constantly random men in and out, and this one girl who just wouldn't leave.

I was hitting rock bottom in the blink of an eye. I was using before work, during work, and after work. I would lock myself in his bedroom, getting high completely alone, consumed by the shame of what I had become again.

It was exactly one week before my court sentencing date where I knew I was going down for 12 months that I looked around and made a choice. I decided I was going to detox. The people in that chaotic apartment didn't think I was serious until they saw me packing my bags.

One morning, I walked out, got into an Uber, and didn't look back. I didn't call a single facility to see if they had a bed. I just picked a destination and told the driver to take me straight to Middletown. That Uber ride is how I finally ended up at CVH.

It is a long, gritty story but it is mine, and it is the absolute truth.