Sitting on the bathroom floor, bawling my eyes out, wondering how I let my undiagnosed postpartum depression and alcohol use disorder go undetected for so long.

I had worked so hard to build the life of my dreams, and once I was living it, all I wanted to do was escape.

That’s how this whole thing started.

I went from an ambitious professional living in the city to a deployed military wife, living in the suburbs with two small children while working two jobs in a maximum-security prison.

The more my physical and emotional health declined, the more I reached for an innocent glass of vino to relax after a stressful day. As a professional in recovery, I saw the warning signs and failed to address my increase in alcohol consumption. My shame was at an all-time high, and my depression was at its lowest. I felt crippled with anxiety in fear for the day my secret and real life would eventually collide.