Str8 On Addiction. Recovery & Resilience.

To those still suffering in addiction—whether you’re out on the streets where everyone can see your struggle, or hiding it behind closed doors thinking your family, friends, or coworkers don’t know—I want you to hear this:

There is no shame in admitting you need help. There is strength in reaching for it. ❤️‍🩹

Addiction took me to some very dark places. To me, addiction is evil because it can make us lie, hurt people we love, lose ourselves and do things we never thought we would do. But the person struggling is not evil. There is still a human being underneath all that pain who deserves a chance to heal.

I never really hid where addiction had taken me. People saw it. People talked about me. And yes, that hurt. But when I finally reached out and said, I need help, something changed.

That was accountability.

Recovery didn't erase my past, but it gave me the chance to face it, learn from it and start becoming the woman I knew was still somewhere inside me.

Along my recovery journey, I found my way back to my Indigenous spirituality and the Medicine Wheel. 🪶 Although the teachings and meanings can be different between Nations, Tribes and communities, the Medicine Wheel has become something deeply personal to me. It reminds me to care for my mind, body, heart and spirit and to keep working toward balance every single day.

I still have friends and family lost in addiction. I think about them. I pray for them. I hope they find their way back to themselves when they're ready.

So if you're hiding your struggle today because you're ashamed of what people might think—please remember:

People may talk about where you've been, but they will never know how much courage it takes to fight your way back.

Ask for help. Be honest with yourself. Take that first step.

There is life on the other side of those dark places.

I know because I'm still walking toward the light myself. 🪶❤️

To everyone still suffering—I pray you find your way home.

— Ruby🦅

❤️🫶❤️

🌿 What Faith Means to Me 🌿

For a long time, I thought faith had to look a certain way. I thought I had to have all the answers, follow someone else's path, or believe that healing would happen overnight.

Today, my faith looks different.

My faith is rooted in my Indigenous teachings, in the Medicine Wheel, in the Creator, and in the understanding that healing is about bringing myself back into balance — spiritually, emotionally, physically, and mentally.

The Medicine Wheel reminds me that every part of me matters. There are seasons when I am strong, and seasons when I struggle. There are days when I feel connected and days when I feel lost. But being lost doesn't mean I'm gone. It means I have another opportunity to find my way back.

My faith is in the Creator.
My faith is in the healing teachings passed down through my culture.
My faith is in nature — the mountains, the trees, the sky, the moon, the water and the land.
And I'm learning to have faith in myself again.

Recovery has taught me that faith isn't about never falling. It's about believing there is still a path forward when you do.

I don't need to know exactly where that path will lead. I just need enough faith to take the next step.

For me, the Medicine Wheel isn't just something I look at. It's something I try to live.

🌿 Healing. Balance. Connection. Growth.

I'm still learning. I'm still healing. I'm still walking my path.

And today, I have faith that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. ❤️

— Ruby 🦅

My heart has been so heavy lately with all the lives being lost to fentanyl overdoses. My deepest condolences go out to every family, every friend, and every community that is grieving the loss of someone they loved. Addiction doesn't just affect one person—it leaves a ripple of heartbreak that touches so many lives.

Every day I thank my Creator for leading me out of the destructive lifestyle I lived for so long. Back then, I truly believed I was okay. I convinced myself nothing would happen to me, even after I overdosed countless times. Looking back now, it's heartbreaking to realize how close I came to becoming another life lost. My focus wasn't on whether I would survive—it was on where I was going to get my next fix because I feared being dope sick more than I feared dying.

Now, every time I hear that someone I knew, used with, or a family member has passed away, it hits differently. It reminds me that it very easily could have been me.

Today my life is different. I am not the same person I was before. Recovery has given me a second chance, and I don't take that for granted. I wake up with purpose, gratitude, and hope.

If you're struggling right now, please don't give up. There is hope—not just dope. Recovery is possible. I never thought I'd be able to say that, but today I'm living proof. If I can find my way out, so can you.

To everyone who has lost someone to addiction, I'm holding you in my heart. And to everyone still fighting this battle, keep fighting. Your story isn't over yet. ❤️🪶🦅

❤

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💛 Relapse Isn't the End 💛

Someone recently asked me, "Why relapse? Why turn back to the very thing that's destroying so many lives?"

The truth is... there isn't one simple answer.

People relapse because addiction is about more than drugs. It's often about grief, trauma, loneliness, pain, and trying to quiet a hurt that feels too heavy to carry.

Relapse isn't something I celebrate, and it's not something I ever want for myself or anyone else. But I also don't believe it's the end of a person's story.

I've learned that recovery isn't about being perfect. It's about being honest.

When I realized I was using co***ne to numb my grief, I had a choice. I could have hidden it because it wasn't fentanyl, or I could be honest and ask for help. I chose honesty. I chose detox. I chose recovery.

People sometimes ask, "Could relapse happen after 19 years?"

The answer is yes. It could happen after 19 years, one year, or one month. None of us are promised tomorrow. That's why I don't live in tomorrow—I live just for today.

As a Cree woman, my recovery is rooted in the Medicine Wheel. I respect the 12 Steps and the lives they've helped change, but the Medicine Wheel speaks to my spirit. It teaches me that healing is about bringing my mind, body, emotions, and spirit back into balance. When one part is out of balance, I know I need to pay attention before I lose myself.

I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it:

Fentanyl stole my spirit. The Medicine Wheel is helping me find it again.

So if you've relapsed, don't let shame convince you that you're beyond hope.

You're not starting from the beginning.

You're starting again—with more wisdom, more honesty, and another chance to walk your healing path.

One prayer.
One step.
One day at a time.

🧡 Ruby
Str8 On Addiction | Recovery & Resilience