Bruised Fruit Hiding the Truth 11

Bruised Fruit: Hiding the Truth (Column #11)

In 2014, I landed a job that felt like the start of something big—a career complete with the perks and benefits I had only dreamed of before. I managed a media list of environmental reporters, pitched stories, and helped generate coverage to further the organization's mission. Over the next nine years, we accomplished remarkable things.

Together, we persuaded then-Governor Andrew Cuomo to allocate funding for clean water projects in the state budget for the first time. We collaborated with residents of Hoosick Falls, whose groundwater had been contaminated with PFAS and PFOS—dangerous chemicals found in products like non-stick cookware and waterproof clothing. Families had been unknowingly drinking, cooking, and bathing in poisoned water. We worked hard to push the NYSDEC to inform the public and help find solutions.

Our team helped pass an amendment to the New York State Constitution, guaranteeing every NYS resident the right to clean air and water. We were instrumental in the statewide ban on plastic bags. Looking back, I feel immense pride in what we achieved as a team.

But addiction is relentless, and by early 2023, it had completely taken over my life. I was smoking crack daily, barely sleeping, and falling apart. My work suffered. I started showing up late—or not at all. After over nine years with the organization, I was called into the conference room and terminated.

It was a humbling experience, but I can't blame anyone but myself. I had let my addiction spiral out of control. Losing a job I had worked so hard for was devastating. My life was unraveling, but instead of confronting my problems, I kept using drugs to silence the gut-wrenching feelings of failure.

The contrast between the joy I felt when I was hired in 2014 and the despair of being fired nearly a decade later couldn't have been starker. Regret still hits me out of nowhere like a ton of bricks.

Nine months later, in October 2023, a friend suggested I reach out to the editor of The Mountain Eagle. It turned out to be the lifeline I needed. The paper wanted to expand coverage into Tannersville—right in my backyard. Although I hadn't worked as a journalist in almost a decade, I took the leap. Slowly, I adapted, reconnecting with my community and rediscovering my passion for storytelling.

This job has become my favorite by far. Over the past 14 months, I've supplemented my income with manual labor and relied on the kindness of close friends, influential people in the village, and family to get through tough financial times. I'm still working to dig myself out, but I am eternally grateful to those who stood by me and believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.

Trust is the foundation of every relationship; rebuilding it is no small feat. Today, I hold my word sacred because it's all I have. People are beginning to trust me again, and that's a beautiful feeling.

I've begun a full-time job at Hunter Mountain. This new role is a step forward, providing the stability and structure I need to keep moving forward in recovery. Recovery, after all, is about replacing destructive habits with healthy ones—a process that sounds simple but is anything but. Rewiring your brain is the hardest part, but it's worth every ounce of effort.

To anyone struggling with addiction, there is hope. I'm proof that, even after losing everything, it's possible to start over. You're never alone, and it's never too late to rebuild.