Commentary: SC soldier recalls her battle from addiction to redemption

My name is Willette Alston-Hockaday, and my journey began over 30 years ago, when I was just a young girl who was innocent and full of life.

In 1990, I did the one thing I had always dreamed of doing: I joined the U.S. Army.

I joined in the summer of 1990 and was scheduled to return to Benedict College in Columbia to complete my college education in January 1991.

Instead, I found myself deployed to Saudi Arabia as a 19-year-old private in operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm. It was one of the scariest times of my life. I had no idea what to expect in a wartime environment, and I had no idea what was waiting for me when I returned to the U.S.

In wartime, you share a foxhole with Army comrades, and you depend on each other to protect and defend you in war and in peacetime.

When I redeployed from Desert Storm, I realized that not every Army comrade was there to protect and defend. Upon my arrival back in the U.S., I was excited and overjoyed to be back with family and friends.

I expected to pick up where I left off. I was expected to go back to college and finish my degree.

However, that all changed when I fell in love with one of my Army comrades. Falling in love is supposed to be a beautiful thing, but when crack cocaine enters a relationship, everything changes.

Using crack cocaine, or any drug, was something I thought I would never engage in. Growing up in the small town of Awendaw, where everyone knows everyone, talk of my drug use started to spread like wildfire.

My drug use took over my mind, soul and body. My life was spiraling out of control, and I didn’t know what to do. And if that wasn’t enough, I gave birth to a baby in 1992.

Addiction in the 1990s was different.

I was ashamed and, of course, embarrassed. I struggled with drugs because I couldn’t see myself asking for assistance.

I felt that I could stop at any time. I felt that no one would understand. The fear I felt was undeniable.

I feared losing my son, I feared losing my freedom, and most of all, I feared losing my life.

In the 1990s, struggling with addiction was an awful feeling. I remember being called a crackhead. I remember being judged and ostracized.

My family conducted an intervention, and like an addict, I denied it. I told my family that I was fine and that they were the problem.

That was the turning point in my life. I entered rehab for 30 days and made up my mind that I needed and wanted to change my life for my son.

I had to accept the fact that I was an addict, and I needed to ensure that my son had a mother he was proud of and could depend on.

In January 1994, I decided to go back to college to complete my degree.

My first semester was a struggle because my family worried about my sobriety. At that point, I realized that I had to gain the trust of my family and friends.

I continued to strive for excellence in college and went back to my first love, the Army. I joined ROTC while in college and was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army in 1997.

After commissioning, I learned how to navigate my way in the Army as an officer. I learned how to cope with day-to-day operations and continued to move up in rank.

I had my struggles in the Army, and there were times I didn’t know which way to turn.

I was thankful that the stigma around mental health began to dissipate and service members began to seek treatment. I sought treatment and was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder in 2020.

Today, I have more than 30 years of sobriety.

I retired in 2023, and I am proud of the transition I made from the early 1990s to the present. I believe many veterans still struggle with addiction and PTSD.

However, the difference between the 1990s and the present is that veterans have more access to healthcare and can receive treatment for addiction and PTSD.

Second chances are possible, because your worst chapter does not have to become your identity.