My name is Darren Nelson, and my life has been a journey through pain, loss, and redemption. I was raised without a father and with a mother who struggled with addiction. She was my best friend, my closest confidant, but her addiction made everything harder. I moved around so much as a child, going to more schools than I can remember, but I was never able to find a sense of belonging. Eventually, I was expelled from every school I attended, and by 12 years old, I was introduced to the criminal justice system.
I spent my 13th birthday in a juvenile detention center, the first of many times I would end up locked behind bars. I spent years cycling in and out of the system, under state supervision since I was 12. Over the course of 25 years, addiction and incarceration became the only life I knew. I was lost, living a life full of regrets, mistakes, and pain, unsure of who I was or how to change. I moved in with my Grandfather Milo, my father figure, who was also an addict. When i was 16 he was diagnosed with cancer and died in 30 days. He was my human. I named my only daughter Mila in His honor.
Loss has been a common thread in my life, people, freedom, everything gone.
But last summer, my world came crashing down in a way I never could have prepared for. I found my mother, my best friend, my ride or die, dead from a fentanyl overdose. I had just lost my rock, my foundation, and the person I had always turned to for comfort. After frantic attempts to revive her, she was pronounced dead. The grief and pain I felt were beyond words, and I spiraled into darkness after her funeral. Single mother, only child. No bond is closer.
The year didn’t get any easier. I lost two more of my best friends, each death a devastating reminder of the fragility of life and the grip of addiction. The weight of these losses, one after another, left me feeling hopeless. But somewhere deep within me, I knew I had to make a choice. I couldn’t keep going down the same destructive path. I couldn’t let their deaths be in vain.
After over two decades of addiction and incarceration, I made the hardest decision of my life: I entered a year-long rehabilitation center. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it was also the turning point I needed. I started to rebuild myself, to heal from the inside out, and to face the pain instead of running from it. Slowly but surely, I learned that recovery was possible—that change was possible.
Now, I just turned 37 years old, and I am recently a single father to my 17-year-old daughter. Life is still a struggle, but I am determined to create a better future for her and for myself. I work every day to stay clean, to be the father she deserves, and to build a stable home for us. It’s not easy, and I still face many challenges, but I’m no longer the person I was. I’ve learned that no matter how far down you go, there is always a chance to rise again. And I will keep growing for my daughter, for myself, and for the memory of my mother Barbara Anne Nelson, and my beloved brothers Billy Sangster and T.J Villebrun
ANYONE out there who trapped in their past or lost in the pain of addiction, know that there is always hope. You ARE NOT defined by your mistakes or your circumstances. If I can rebuild my life, so can you. The journey won’t be easy, but you are stronger than you think, and you don’t have to face it alone. If you need support or have any to give me in my journey of redemption, please reach out or comment. Thanks for the outlet. Use it
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Therapy and having an outlet and a support system are essential
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