My name is Jennifer Street, and I am the face of a recovered Xanax and Adderall addict. My journey with substances started earlier than I ever imagined, long before I understood the consequences it would have on my life.
I had my first encounter with drugs the summer before my freshman year of high school. My friend and I snuck into a party at someone’s house while their parents were away. That night, I tried mushrooms for the first time, followed immediately by my first joint. Thankfully, my best friend intervened when someone offered me methamphetamine, stopping me from taking what could have been my first step down a much darker path.
From that point, my curiosity escalated. I found myself sneaking into bars and clubs with a fake ID, lying about my whereabouts, and diving headfirst into the party scene. The freedom felt exhilarating, but little did I know, this lifestyle would slowly pull me toward a life-threatening addiction.
Throughout high school, I was prescribed multiple anti-anxiety medications. After trying several, Xanax seemed to work best for my anxiety—or so I thought. At 18, I received my first prescription, unaware of how it would later intertwine with my growing dependency on drugs like Adderall.
One night, exhausted and complaining about my fatigue, someone offered me meth again. I tried it, and thankfully didn’t like the way it made me feel. Soon after, I was offered Adderall. It helped me focus, and I liked the way it made me feel. That was the beginning of a slow snowball effect, where the line between medicinal use and addiction started to blur.
By college, I had experimented with almost every party drug but always returned to my prescription Xanax and Adderall. I would stay up all night, taking an extra Adderall to close bars, only to rely on Xanax the next morning to fall asleep. My substance use became routine, and my life started to spiral.
At 19, I received my first DUI after leaving a bar. It was my first time stepping into a courtroom and being held accountable for my actions. Not long after, I moved in with friends, one of whom was a drug dealer. One night, our doorbell rang in the middle of the night. When I opened it, three guns were pointed at me. That terrifying moment became one of my first real wake-up calls. I remember praying, “God, I don’t want to die—I’m too young!” Somehow, that prayer was answered, even though I didn’t truly believe in God at the time.
A few years later, I met the father of my children. The first night we hung out, he picked me up from a bar where I had already had several Xanax and Adderall. We hit it off and spent the next four years partying together until I became pregnant with our first son. Life seemed good after his birth, but old habits crept back when I was prescribed Xanax and Adderall again.
My prescriptions eventually ran out before they could be refilled, and I turned to street sources to keep up. Addiction quickly took over, compounded by postpartum depression and the overwhelming pressure of new motherhood. I felt like I was failing, and instead of asking for help, I buried myself deeper in drugs.
Sean and I reached a toxic point in our relationship. We were constantly upset with each other, trapped in a vicious cycle we couldn’t escape. I became pregnant with our second son. During pregnancy, I abstained from drugs, but complications arose. After a c-section, I hemorrhaged and didn’t wake up. The medical team fought to save me, and for the second time, God intervened in my life—even though I ignored the call.
When I was discharged, a pharmacy mistake doubled my medications, creating a perfect storm for relapse. Our toxic cycle continued until I finally moved into my own apartment, with agreed-upon arrangements for the children. I returned to the party scene, spiraling further, until one night I crashed my car while under the influence. I survived with only a knee contusion, another stark warning I nearly ignored.
From that point, my life became a cycle of addiction, jail, and chaos. I called the police on Sean one night, only to be arrested due to a prior DUI warrant. While in custody, I began to detox, experiencing God’s mercy in ways I had never understood before. I was devastated, ashamed, and felt completely trapped.
After being released, my best friends staged an intervention. They saw what I could not—my pain was killing me and affecting my children. Reluctantly, I agreed to enter rehab, not knowing I was about to begin a seven-month Christian Discipleship Program at The Broom Tree.
During those first 30 days, I gave my life to Christ. After just two weeks, I passed a drug test, and DFACS lifted the safety plan. Thirty days later, I reunited with my children in a deeply emotional moment. Their joy and need for me strengthened my resolve to fight for sobriety and to become the mother they deserved.
I graduated as House Mother and moved into the transition home, The Living Tree, for six months. I returned to the world sober, determined to provide stability for my boys. I started my Christian t-shirt business, Exodus Boutique, inspired by Exodus 14:14: “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”
Today, Sean and I have restored our relationship through God’s guidance. We co-parent peacefully, attend church, and actively participate in our children’s lives. We are even planning our wedding, excited for what God has in store for us.
My advice to anyone struggling with addiction: humbling yourself and asking for help is the first step. It’s hard, messy work, but the other side of the storm is beautiful and attainable. Resources exist, prayers are heard, and your life is valuable. Don’t give up—you can overcome this.
To those supporting someone in addiction: your prayers matter. Keep your boundaries, but never stop caring. God sees, God listens, and your persistence can make all the difference.
