​A Shattered Sense of self-worth​

Alyssa described losing custody of her oldest child. Her sense of self-worth was shattered. "I felt like I was punishing myself," she said. Shame took such a hold that Alyssa felt that darkness "was what [she] deserved." This is why it's difficult to break generational patterns of addiction or poverty. It's both a physiological and a psychological challenge - one faced by Brian and Alyssa.

They met when both were homeless and in active addiction. They shared an RV and relocated frequently - survival dictating every choice. While parked in Anacortes, dreading forced relocation, feeling hunted and judged, and scared to answer the door, one knock changed their lives.

 

The moment that drew a line

The outreach team from AFC treated them with respect, not pity - no expectation or judgement. AFC wanted the couple to know help was there if they wanted it. However, Brian and Alyssa distrusted kindness and refused support again andagain.

Then Alyssa became pregnant. That moment didn't magically fix their lives, but it drew a line. The life they were living was not the life they wanted for their child. Brian remembers the shift he felt inside, realizing they couldn't do it alone and they'd have to risk trusting someone to help. They contacted the center and said they were ready and, as promised, support was there.

It wasn't a dramatic overnight transformation. It was safety, routine, and structure - a place to exhale. They were provided with a hotel room, and Alyssa had their son Wayne while they lived there. Mom, Dad, and baby were then moved into emergency housing and, from there, into the apartments, and they committed to being successful in the program.

 

Over the course of sixteen months, with consistent support from the center, they took advantage of every available life skills option. They found jobs, learned to budget, saved money, and cared for their home while staying clean. Alyssa earned her GED and is planning to keep that momentum by becoming an RN. They paid off court fines, rebuilt credit, built a savings account, and purchased vehicles. They graduated from the program, and just weeks ago, the young family moved into a two-bedroom rental home - a place to call their own while they work toward homeownership.

 

The greatest achievement

However amazing on paper, the greatest achievement had nothing to do with jobs, money, cars, or even the home - those are just physical representations of something bigger that they will never give up, that will drive them, that will see them through challenges, something intangible but priceless they can pass on to their son a sense of self-worth.

"When you're always in survival mode," Brian said, "you feel hunted." Stability changed that. Once the fear lifted and they could see themselves as strong, capable, and important, it became easier to imagine a positive future.

 

Today, when asked what it feels like to walk through their own front door, Alyssa pauses. "Accomplished," she says. "Comfort. Life isn't as scary." And adds that she feels that she can face anything that comes her way because of what they have learned.

 

The most courageous people he will ever know

Across the table from me, Brian and Alyssa told me their story with trust, vulnerability, and humility, while two-year-old Wayne babbled away as he played with whatever was handed to him. At one point, Alyssa's mom-sense made her reach over and take back her phone. She furrowed her brow at the screen and emitted a quintessential mom sigh - exasperation and love in equal measure.

 

There is no fear in Wayne's big eyes, just love and wonder. He is all smiles and mischief. That toddler doesn't have a care in the world. He has no idea he has safety and security because, even before he arrived, he was so loved that two people faced their fears and mistrust, sought help, broke a generational pattern of addiction and poverty, and created a legacy for their son.

He has no idea that his own parents might be the most courageous people he will ever know.