In Elizabeth’s Word: A Powerful Recovery Story Honored at Celebrating Mothers Luncheon
Each year at our Celebrating Mothers Luncheon, a graduate of Epiphany Center courageously shares her journey through addiction, recovery, and healing. These deeply personal stories offer a powerful reminder of why our work matters—giving our graduates a voice in their continued recovery and giving supporters a firsthand look at the life-changing impact of their generosity. This year, Elizabeth stood before a room full of guests and spoke her truth with strength and grace. Her story is a testament to resilience, transformation, and the vital role your support plays in helping women and families rebuild their lives. We invite you to read Elizabeth’s inspiring remarks below.
“My name is Elizabeth, and it’s an honor to be standing before you today at this beautiful Mother’s Day luncheon. To be honest, just being here—alive, sober, and standing in front of you as a mother, a working woman, and an alumna of the Epiphany Center—is nothing short of a miracle.
Three years ago, I was in a place I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I was living on the streets, doing whatever I had to do just to survive. That meant hustling for enough money to afford drugs and to rent a room in some roach-infested motel. Every day was a fight. Not a fight to thrive—but a fight to barely get by. I hated my life. I had no hope, no vision for a future, no belief that things could ever be different.
I came dangerously close to losing my life. My mother and father truly believed they had lost me. By that point, they had exhausted every possible avenue to help me overcome my addiction. I was overwhelmed by an unbearable sense of guilt and worthlessness, and in my despair, I believed that ending my life was the only escape.
But then I found out I was pregnant.
“I was overwhelmed by an unbearable sense of guilt and worthlessness, and in my despair, I believed that ending my life was the only escape.”
And everything changed.
I didn’t know what to do. I always wanted to be a mom, but not like that. I didn’t even know where I was going to sleep that night, let alone how I was going to raise a baby. But something inside me said, This baby is your second chance.
So I checked myself into San Francisco General Hospital. And that’s where I met the amazing team that saved my life—Team Lilly. For those of you who know Team Lilly, you know what I mean when I say they are angels on earth. The doctors, the nurses, the case managers—everyone treated me with dignity and compassion, even when I didn’t think I deserved it.
They offered me a lifeline. They said, “We can help you avoid CPS involvement, but you have to commit to changing. We have some programs we can connect you to.” And they handed me a list.
I looked at each one, and when I came across the Epiphany Center, something clicked. A recovery program with onsite childcare for three years? That wasn’t just rehab—that was an opportunity for real change. That was the kind of foundation I needed. I said, Sign me up.
And I’ll never forget the day I walked through the doors of the Epiphany Center, carrying my one-month-old, premature son, Evan. I was exhausted, terrified, and unsure of everything. But when I looked up and saw “St. Elizabeth’s” carved into the building—the same name as mine—I felt this overwhelming sense that maybe, just maybe, I was in the right place.
From that very first day, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. The staff welcomed me with open arms. They didn’t judge me. They didn’t see me as an addict or a lost cause. They saw me as a mother who wanted a better life for her child.
At Epiphany, I found safety. I found structure. I found healing. The residential recovery program gave me the tools I needed to rebuild my life—parenting classes, therapy, life skills training. Evan was just steps away from me in the infant room, getting the love and care he needed as a fragile, premature baby. And as he grew, he transitioned into the toddler room, always surrounded by nurturing, therapeutic care.
“And I’ll never forget the day I walked through the doors of the Epiphany Center, carrying my one-month-old, premature son, Evan. I was exhausted, terrified, and unsure of everything.”
I stayed at Epiphany for just a few days short of a full year. A year where I slowly but surely started becoming the woman and mother I was always meant to be. I knew I couldn’t go back to the streets. I knew Evan needed me to be present, strong, and sober. He was—and still is—my miracle baby.
But my journey didn’t end when I graduated. Epiphany continued to support me through their step-down program. While I searched for permanent housing, they provided a beautiful, safe transitional home. They offered outpatient support so I could stay on track, and once again, the staff went above and beyond to make sure I felt cared for.
During my six months in step-down, my son and I got COVID. It was a really tough time. We were stuck in isolation, but we were never alone. Lisa—oh Lisa—showed up every single day. She knocked on my door with a smile, made me laugh when I wanted to cry, and made sure we had everything we needed. That kind of love? That kind of dedication? It’s what makes Epiphany so special. Lisa, if you're here today—thank you from the bottom of my heart.
And the community of women at Epiphany? They became my sisters. We bonded over shared pain, shared victories, and shared dreams. Our kids played together while we did the hard, necessary work of healing. We built each other up when one of us felt like giving up. Those friendships reminded me I wasn’t alone. And that was everything.
Fast forward to today—three years later—and Evan is a happy, thriving little boy who still attends daycare through Epiphany. He loves it there. And I now have a full-time job as a healthcare provider for two amazing women. Being able to help others every day makes me feel like I’m living a life of purpose. I finally feel like I’m giving back.
I also have my own home. It’s a small studio, just me and Evan—but it’s ours. And I’ve been paying the rent all by myself for over two years now. I’ve transitioned completely off of any financial assistance. That might sound like a small thing to some people, but to me, it’s huge. Because it means I did it. I really did it. I rebuilt my life from nothing.
“Fast forward to today—three years later—and Evan is a happy, thriving little boy who still attends daycare through Epiphany. He loves it there. And I now have a full-time job as a healthcare provider for two amazing women. ”
We still meet with Dr. Linda Perez regularly, and Evan adores her. His face lights up when he sees her, and that says more than any words ever could about the kind of impact she’s had on our lives.
And now, I have a new dream. I want to come back to Epiphany—not as a client, but as a counselor. I want to be the person who helps the next woman walk through those doors and say, This is it. This is where I turn my life around. Because if I can do it—after 15 years of addiction, after surviving the streets, after nearly dying—anyone can do it. But you can’t do it alone. And that’s where Epiphany comes in.
So as we celebrate Mother's Day today, I want to say this:
To the staff, volunteers, and supporters of the Epiphany Center—thank you. You are changing lives in the most powerful, profound way. You didn’t just give me shelter. You didn’t just give me treatment. You gave me a second chance at life. You gave my son a future.—thank you for believing in this mission. Thank you for giving mothers like me a chance to rise from the ashes and become something more than we ever thought possible. Your support isn’t just charitable—it’s life-saving.
My darkest days are behind me. My future is bright. And today, I stand here not as a victim of my past—but as a survivor, a mother, and a woman who is deeply, deeply grateful.
Thank you.
-Elizabeth
Epiphany Center Graduate
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