Life isn’t easy, and everyone has to discover their own ways to cope with the obstacles life throws at them. Maybe you take comfort in money and shiny objects, or thinking about people who remind you that it could be worse. Some coping methods are healthy and don’t cause harm to anyone. But some people find ways that aren’t healthy and that end up being addictive. That’s what happened to me. I picked the wrong way for dealing with problems in my life, and it became a downward spiral, causing more problems than just the ones I was trying to escape.

The summer of 2011, I found out that my mother had cancer. I was scared – scared for my mom and scared to be alone. I found myself crying in the middle of the night when she had to stay at the hospital for days at a time. I felt alone. My sisters were too young to understand what was going on, and my father dealt with the sadness a different way. He came to the conclusion that he could drive it away one beer at a time. He was always there physically – he always cooked dinner and watched movies with us – but after too many beers, he fell into a drunken abyss.

In the midst of my mother’s cancer battle and my dad’s beer runs, I began to lash out. I started dating a boy who was three years older. I knew it was a bad idea, but I didn’t care. I was hooked on the butterflies in my stomach whenever I looked at him.

It started out harmless enough – inviting him to hang out with my friends and me, walking around Walmart, going to eat at McDonald’s. I don’t know what came over me when I decided to join in on smoking weed. He just looked at me and smiled, and I melted. I was so head over heels, I would have done anything to impress him. I wanted to be mature like all the other girls he knew. I wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t a child or scared. So I tried weed.

I was in a haze the rest of that night. I felt guilty knowing that my mom was in the hospital while I was out getting high with a boy, so I smoked more to make the feeling go away.

At first I considered my drug use to be harmless acting out. It didn’t stop with weed, though; soon I found myself wanting to experience a different high.

I had a moment of hesitation as I watched my boyfriend crush up a small white pill. I had barely started smoking weed – was I really ready for something stronger? More dangerous? But once again, when he smiled at me all my worries seemed to drift from my mind.

I snorted my first pill that night, and I knew right away it would not be my last. The way I just forgot about how hard life was made me crave more. Whenever someone offered me a pill, I took it without hesitation.

Eight months later, I was expelled from school. I had been caught selling drugs on school property. I was charged with distribution and possession and was sentenced to one year of probation. I’ve never felt so awful in my life. My parents were so shocked and disappointed that they couldn’t even yell at me. I broke them. In the courtroom I looked at them once, and it felt like guilt was punching me in the heart. I should have stopped then. I should have gotten my act together when I had the chance.

Less than a year later, I got off probation early for good behavior. I had broken up with that guy, and I thought I was doing okay, until I found my new poison: Xanax. I started taking it every weekend to get a little break from reality. It made everything feel like a dream, like I was indestructible and could do whatever I wanted.

Everything was hazy, kind of like a blur. But I only did it on weekends, so it was okay, right? Pretty soon it wasn’t just the weekends; it was school days too. I started skipping class to get high with friends. One pill at a time turned into 10 pills a day. Then I lost count. It got to the point where I was throwing up every pill I took because, to get a “better high,” I was taking them on an empty stomach.

Then, last year, the guy who had introduced me to drugs actually helped me. I had gotten so lost in the drugs, in that dreamy haze, that I lost who I really was. I had pushed my family away. My mom felt like she had lost me. But my ex and my family supported me in getting help and finding my way to sobriety and health. They woke me up from that dreamy haze so I could see the monster I had become. I hated the girl I saw in the mirror when I finally realized what I had been doing.

Today I am six months sober. I still have days where I consider taking just one pill to take the edge off. But then I look at my little sisters and realize that what I did was dangerous. What I became could have killed me. I realized that I’m not just living for me, I’m living for two little girls who look up to me as their big sister, their friend, and their protector. They are what keeps me strong when life gets hard. My coping method was once drugs, but now it’s my family. I look at my sisters and pull through for them. I look at my parents and feel lucky that I have their support despite everything. I owe them the world for being there for me through it all.