​Recovery isn't always a straight line. That's why second chances matter.

Seven years ago, when Roots opened the doors to our first six-bed recovery home in Memphis, Amanda became our very first resident.

We had no idea then what the next seven years would bring—for Amanda or for Roots. Her journey has included recovery and relapse, motherhood and marriage, tremendous personal loss, rebuilding and starting again. Roots is honored to be apart of her journey and her's apart of ours.

It hasn't been a straight line. But recovery rarely is.

Today, Amanda is thriving.

She's built a successful career in healthcare business development. She's a mother, a wife a professional and sharing her lived experience to help others. She's a woman whose story continued long after she walked through the doors of Hale House.

This is recovery.
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Not perfection. Not a straight line. But continuing to get back up, rebuild and move forward.
Seven years later, women are still walking through our doors looking for that same opportunity.
This Recovery Month & Roots 7th Anniversary,, help us make sure that door stays open.

​Seven years ago, with 19 years in recovery, I saw a gap in recovery housing I couldn't unsee.

And as a mother of two children who both experienced the treatment → recovery housing → relapse loop, I saw a need for an approach that could help women stay connected to recovery housing longer—one rooted in compassion, second chances and accountability with dignity.

My own experiences with substance use, domestic violence, childhood adversity, complex trauma and codependency taught me that women need more than a roof. They need a safe place to get out of survival mode—to feel grounded, make mistakes, learn from them and heal.

So I started Roots.

What I didn't know was how much healing I still had ahead of me.
Over these seven years, I've experienced divorce, started over, lost my own safe housing, entered trauma therapy, faced the death of my sibling and continual healing hard truths about myself and my family.
I've questioned myself. I've questioned my purpose. And I've shared what I've learned along the way with the women at Roots.

Because I don't lead Roots from a place of having it all figured out.
I lead it from lived experience.

Today, I have 26 years substance-free, and that first six-bed house has grown to four homes in two counties, serving 23 women and children.

But Roots has grown faster than its funding.
I've worked multiple jobs and made personal sacrifices to keep it going, all while asking God, “Is this still what You want me to do?”

So far, the answer has always been yes.

But I don't believe the next seven years are supposed to be carried by one person.
We need our community now.
Roots needs 25 more monthly donors to help stabilize Roots and keep safe, affordable recovery housing available for women who need it.