Why I Chose to Use My Voice

For years, I walked in darkness. Not just the kind you see—but the kind you feel. The kind that wraps around your spirit like chains. I lived small, shrinking into the cracks of my own unworthiness, silenced by self-doubt, heartbreak, and pain. I carried wounds I didn’t know how to speak about. I wore masks to survive. And without realizing it, I kept myself stuck in a cycle—a prison made of trauma, chaos, and choices that mirrored my own pain back to me.

There were moments I truly believed I wouldn’t make it out. Moments when the weight of it all felt too heavy to bear. But somehow, even in the depths, I was never alone. Unseen forces began guiding me—nudging me, whispering to me, aligning me with opportunities, people, and messages that felt like lifelines. After years of breaking myself open, of causing harm through my own pain, of learning the hard way—something in me shifted. I hit a point where I could no longer run. The thing that scared me the most—healing—became the only way out.

And so I did the unthinkable: I faced myself. I faced my past. I faced my fear. And that’s when everything started to change.

Healing didn’t come all at once—it came in pieces. And every time I chose to use my voice—to speak up for my needs, my truth, my path—I felt the ground shift beneath me. Doors opened. My past, instead of haunting me, began revealing the next steps. With each word, with each act of self-advocacy, I remembered more of who I truly am.

I learned that I do have a voice. And not just that—I learned that it carries power.

Now, I speak not just for myself, but for everyone who’s ever felt voiceless. For the woman stuck in shame. For the man battling demons in silence. For the child within us all who just wanted to feel safe, seen, and loved.

I know what it’s like to feel lost in the dark. I know what it’s like to question your worth, to live in survival, to believe your pain is all there is. And I also know what it’s like to rise from that.

My voice has become my medicine. And this blog—this space—is an extension of that medicine. It’s a space for truth-telling, for healing, for remembering. Because if I had realized the power of using my voice sooner, the ripple it could create, I might’ve changed the course of my life earlier. But I also trust divine timing, always. Spirit knew when I was ready.

So now I speak. And I will keep speaking. Because I believe in the power of our voices—especially when we use them to advocate for our healing, our freedom, and our wholeness.

And my prayer is that you will too.

Walking Through the Fire: How My Story Became My Mission

My name is SummerLee, and if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that healing is possible — no matter how far gone you may feel.

For nearly twenty years, I lived in the deep shadows of active addiction. Hard drugs became my daily reality. Jails, institutions, and survival-mode living became the rhythm of my life. I battled not just addiction, but spiritual warfare. I survived countless situations where death felt inevitable — overdoses, a heart attack, a mild stroke, and even ongoing complications with my pancreas from years of drug use.

But the physical battles were only part of it. I survived sexual abuse, trauma, and the soul-crushing reality of selling my body just to get by. I buried people I loved. I held space for some as they took their very last breath.

Grief, shame, guilt, and pain were stitched into the fabric of my existence.

And yet — somehow — something deep inside of me refused to give up.

My journey into a new life didn’t come through anything conventional. It came through a whisper from the Earth itself — through sacred plant medicine.

It was psilocybin mushrooms that first cracked open the door, leading me headfirst into a dark night of the soul — a brutal but necessary unraveling.

From there, I was guided into deeper work with sacred medicines like peyote and ayahuasca, each one helping me peel back the layers of pain and illusion and guiding me back home to my true self.

Today, I am living proof that rebirth is real.

I am a full-time student, earning my Bachelor’s degree in Applied Arts and Sciences with a focus in Positive Psychology and Human Consciousness.

I am a Certified White Bison Wellbriety Recovery Coach, a Certified Death Doula, and a Spiritual Mentor.

I have walked alongside adults in chemical dependency recovery, and I now work in the mental health field supporting youth.

I am the author of my first published book — a living testament to the road I’ve walked and the light I have found on the other side.

But more than anything — I am a woman on a mission.

My mission is to speak up.

To liberate myself and my ancestors.

To shed light into the lives of others — especially those who are still walking through their own darkness.

I believe healing is not just about survival — it’s about remembering who we really are underneath all the wounds.

It’s about reclaiming our truth, stepping into our power, and becoming vessels of love, healing, and oneness — within ourselves, and within the world.

This is the prayer I walk now.

And if my story can help even one soul remember their own light, then every step of this journey has been worth it.

The Power of Choosing Yourself

I spent the first half of my life living for everything outside of me—for survival, for approval, for validation, for addiction, for love, for fear. The list goes on. I completely lost myself in every way possible.

No one ever taught me that I had permission to choose myself.
I had to fight to remember that I even could.

Over and over again, I would attach myself to people, places, and things. I held on for dear life, even when I knew it was time to walk away. I still kept holding on. I was delirious and delusional—lost in a world I didn’t even want to exist in, but I didn’t know another way out.

Things kept leaving my life. People. Patterns. Circumstances. The same lessons showed up again and again in new forms, hoping I’d finally get the point. But no matter where I went, there I was. And time after time, I would meet myself at that same dead end—heartbroken, fed up, exhausted, frustrated, numb. Nearly lifeless.

I’ve had to start over more times than I can count.

Eventually, I reached a pivotal fork in the road. One path led back to everything I had always known—the familiar pain, the predictable cycles. The other led into the unknown. And the unknown absolutely terrified me… but it was the one path I had never fully committed to.

After everything I’d lost, after how many times life had broken me open, I realized I had nothing left to lose.

And then something greater than me—something I still can’t put into words—moved through me. It didn’t just whisper. It guided. It pulled. And for the first time in my life, I followed. I took a step toward the unknown, not because I was brave, but because I was done.

I sat in limbo for a while after that, unsure, raw, grieving. But I kept holding on. And before I knew it, the magic started to happen.

I kept choosing myself—even through the fear, the doubt, the guilt, the shame. And then came plant medicine.

Which I now know… was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life.

That sacred medicine didn’t just guide me—it took over and carried me into the heart of my healing. It led me inward, into the pain, the truth, the pieces of myself I had long abandoned. It showed me that the pain wasn’t there to punish me—it was there to teach me.

And it was always trying to teach me the same thing:

Choose yourself.

Because every time I placed my life, my peace, and my worth in the hands of others, I was giving my power away. Sometimes unknowingly. Sometimes fully aware. But the truth was, I had never been taught that I even had the power to choose myself. So I didn’t know how.

But the Universe has a funny way of teaching you what you need to know—whether you want the lesson or not.

I began to see how much my inner world was shaping my external world. The more I nurtured my heart, my mind, my spirit… the more my reality began to shift. Healing became magnetic. Alignment became natural. And choosing myself became second nature.

And the truth is—choosing myself feels good.
It empowers me. It motivates me.
It fills me with humility, gratitude, and grace.
It reminds me that I’m worthy, not because of what I’ve done or haven’t done—but because of who I am. And every time I choose myself again, I come home a little deeper.

Doors started opening that I never could’ve imagined. And I realized—every single moment had been preparing me for the next.

It is now my responsibility to choose myself—every day. Not just for me, but for the child I’m raising. For the people who look to me for guidance. For the women who are still in the dark, waiting for someone to go first.

Because this journey isn’t just about me. It’s about the ones who came before me—and the ones who will come after.

Through choosing myself, I’ve liberated my life. I’ve broken generational cycles. I’ve reclaimed my voice, my power, my sacred purpose. And everything I once suffered through? It became the reason I am who I am today.

The pain was always a gift. I just had to be willing to look for it.
And it all started with one step… one yes… one choice.

Choosing yourself isn’t selfish—it’s a sacred act.
It’s how we break cycles.
It’s how we learn what love really is.
It’s how we come home.

I didn’t change because someone saved me.
I changed because I finally chose me.

So, I encourage you to reflect on your life.
Where have you abandoned yourself?
And what would happen if—this time—you chose you?

Addiction Isn’t the Root—It’s the Result

I started to learn this when I was around 23 years old, sitting in therapy during my second or third attempt at getting clean. As I began to unpack the baggage I was carrying—trauma, pain, family patterns—I realized those things all played into my choices to get loaded. But it wasn’t until just a few years ago that I truly understood the role that trauma, loss, grief, and shame played in shaping addiction.

This blog is about compassion, deeper truth, and hope. It's a reflection of my own personal experience, insights, and the spiritual and emotional awareness I’ve gained throughout my journey. Because the truth is—we all experience trauma, grief, and shame in different ways. Addiction becomes an outlet, a way to escape the deep-seated dysregulations that live inside the nervous system.

For a long time, I didn’t believe I was using drugs or alcohol to escape anything. I thought I was just having fun, just getting by, just surviving. But with time, distance, and deeper healing, I began to see clearly. Once I was finally separated from active addiction, and I began learning about coping mechanisms and how to live differently, I saw the role everything had played. Drugs, alcohol, and other substances often become a way to survive not just unbearable realities—but even bearable ones. Because sometimes, the pain is invisible. Sometimes, people turn to addiction without any obvious trauma. But that doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real. Addiction is the result of something deeper that hasn’t been healed.

As Dr. Gabor Maté says, “The question is not why the addiction, but why the pain?” Behind every addiction is a wound in need of compassion, not judgment.

And when I began to look at it all from a spiritual perspective, I realized something bigger:

Addiction didn’t begin with me—and it doesn’t end with me either.

Through sacred ceremony, plant medicine, and deep introspection, I came to see addiction not just as a personal battle—but as the manifestation of ancestral pain. Unspoken grief, generational trauma, and survival patterns passed down through bloodlines. These imprints don’t just live in the mind; they live in the body. In the nervous system. Shaping how we respond to stress, love, fear, and loss. When the body is constantly dysregulated—always scanning for danger or numb to the world—substances become a refuge. A false peace in the middle of chaos.

But what’s been inherited can also be healed.

Through breath, movement, spiritual practice, nervous system regulation, and conscious presence, we begin to interrupt the patterns that have run through our lineage. We bring softness to the places that only knew survival. And in doing so, we don’t just heal ourselves—we heal those who came before us, and those who will come after.

Still, many of us stay stuck—because of the stigma that surrounds addiction. I know I did. I spent nearly 20 years in and out of the cycle. And every time I returned to old patterns, it felt harder and harder to pull myself back out. But I want to emphasize: healing begins the moment we stop identifying with the addiction and start uncovering the root.

While I have deep love for 12-step programs, I’ve never resonated with introducing myself as an “addict” every time I speak. Words hold power—and what we identify with, we reinforce. Choosing not to attach myself to that identity was the beginning of something greater. It’s why the steps exist—to go deeper, to uncover, to release. And I believe we must go beyond the label, because labeling someone as an addict limits their identity and path to healing.

Healing is not about punishment—it’s about remembering your wholeness.

It’s not about fixing what’s broken, because at your core, you were never broken to begin with. It’s about peeling back the layers of pain, shame, and survival that were never yours to carry. For me, true healing began the moment I stopped asking, “What’s wrong with me?” and started asking, “What happened to me—and what needs love here?”

Plant medicine cracked me wide open. It revealed grief I didn’t have language for. Trauma I had normalized. Wounds I had inherited and never acknowledged. But ceremony alone isn’t the whole story—healing happens in the integration. In the quiet. In the moments after the visions fade, when you're alone with yourself. It’s in therapy. In journaling. In prayer. In community. In being brave enough to feel what you once ran from.

And the truth? Healing isn’t linear. Some days you’re standing in your power. Other days you’re crawling through the dark. But every step is sacred.

This path is a return.
A return to your Self.
A return to truth.
A return to wholeness.

I want to remind you: addiction does not define your worth, your destiny, or your spirit.
There is so much power in reclamation. Look at how many people in recovery become healers, leaders, light workers, innovators. The fire of rock bottom forges something sacred. There is always a seed of rising in the ashes.

There is hope—hope that never runs out.

We were not sent here to suffer. It is our birthright to live through peace, abundance, wholeness, and love. Every trial is a teacher. Every scar is a doorway. And every moment offers a chance to come home to yourself.

So, I encourage you:
Look deeper into the pain. Whether or not your story includes addiction, the truth is—we are all recovering from something. And whatever that something is, it’s asking to be healed.

If you’re struggling, advocate for yourself. Stand up. Speak out. Reach for support. Or begin with just one small act of self-love today.

Addiction is pain—not a failure of character.
You are not alone. You are not too far gone.

You are the medicine.
You are the miracle.

If anything in this spoke to you—please reach out, share, or connect with me.
I believe in you.