Life is full of both tragedies and comedies. What role we are cast in, in the play of life, often determines whether it will be full of laughter or tears.
Nicole L. knows this all too well. Growing up in the San Fernando Valley, “I guess you could say I’m a Valley girl,” she jokes. She and her younger brother had a relatively “normal” childhood. At least from the outside looking in. She was drawn to the drama of theater and performance over sports. “The trajectory of drug addiction was not on the radar for me growing up. I got really good grades—I did what I was supposed to. Drinking and drugs weren’t really anything that I thought about.”
At 13, Nicole started to experience bouts of depression. She started to compare herself to other kids and how she was not having a similar experience, at least in her eyes. Her relationship with her mom also began to strain. “Nothing I did was ever right in her eyes, so we fought a lot. That was kind of the start of a lot of insecurity for me. If I can’t do right by mother who birthed me, then who can I do right by?” Nicole began to create impossibly high standards for herself as a result.
High school found Nicole losing herself in the social hierarchy of it all. She knew she needed to keep running on the hamster wheel of high school to get into a good college, but she didn’t know quite where she fit in. She joined a Jewish youth group called BBYO, which seemed like an excellent extracurricular activity to put on college applications, but it also presented itself as a place to socialize and party. “At fifteen, we started hanging out with the older kids and going to their houses and drinking. The first time I drank, I suddenly had no inhibitions, complete confidence. I was unstoppable.” Nicole continued to present as “the good student” during the week, but life started to revolve around the weekends and the parties.
Life at home was tumultuous. “From the outside looking in, my parents seemed like a great couple. But internally and behind closed doors, they were constantly fighting.” The volatile state of her parents frosted over the rest of the home. One day, upon returning home from a sleepover, Nicole discovered her dad leaving with packed bags. He needed to get away from the hostility. Siding with her mother, Nicole stopped talking to her father for a period of time. Thankfully, she had college to look forward to.
“I didn’t get into any of the colleges I wanted, and this was kind of my first feeling of real rejection.” Despite all of the extracurriculars and AP classes, she still wound up attending a community college. At this school, Nicole discovered her love for helping other people, particularly women who have survived domestic violence. She continued to struggle with her mental health and suddenly found an opportunity, a freedom, to drink and use the way she wanted. “Again, addiction was not something in my head. There were thoughts of like, ‘Oh I smoke weed every day. I can’t stop. I might have some addictive tendencies.’ But AA and addiction treatment were still not a thing on my radar.”
Despite her rampant addiction, her work ethic in community college got her into UC Berkley. “It was huge and probably my biggest accomplishment in life at that point.” Nicole started to discover that a geographic change could enable her to feel like she could outrun herself and her problems. “If I fuck up or mess up in any way, I could just move to a different place.” She moved to the Bay Area under the guise of going to her dream school and not partying anymore. Of course, she quickly found herself partying harder than ever. She even picked up her drug of choice, Ketamine. “I managed to get through school. I don’t know how because I never went to class. But I really loved school, so I was able to do what I had to do.” Eventually, her parents decided to formally get a divorce. This took its toll on her, and Nicole found the sense of security she once had in her parents dwindling. “They had new lives. I think they thought I had moved on and didn’t need them anymore. But in college, you really need your parents. It’s just such a completely different change.” Upon graduation, Nicole decided to move to Jerusalem. Again, under the guise of just needing a change. She found spirituality in abundance, but she also found parties in excess. After a month, she knew she was on a dangerous path. “I just felt like I could go down a deeper rabbit hole in a country where I knew no one with no money. I just couldn’t do it.”
After returning home, COVID hit, and Nicole’s mother was diagnosed with cancer. Between the toll these were taking and the disappointment of living back at home, she found herself going full tilt ahead into addiction and drug use. “This is not the life I want to be living. So I went full-blown into addiction. But in COVID, it was kind of okay in a way because everyone was doing it. Plus, I had safety nets.” But lest we forget, nets are a trap.
Life was a blur. By day, she was working at a shelter for victims of human trafficking, imbuing meaning in her life, but by night, she was partying and spending as much time as possible under any sort of influence so as not to deal with anything that was affecting her. She sought a numbness that could never fully be realized.
Nicole’s mother had gone into remission, but wound up getting sick again. This time, things looked pretty dire. Naturally, Nicole found herself in a spiral at this news. She managed to stay sober, aside from weed, for the last part of her mother’s journey. But grief would take its own hold of her after her mother passed. “Watching a person you love wither away and die is really…rough.” The same week that her mother passed away, her grandmother also passed. She found herself in the darkest period of her life. However, she found herself with a nice amount of money for a 24-year-old and decided to travel and party. She moved into her own place, and life seemed decent for a while, at least on the surface. “It was fun for a little bit, but I wasn’t dealing with the issue at hand, which was that I was a severe addict with a lot of trauma.” Things started to unravel.
When those realizations became prevalent, she found herself coming to Beit T’Shuvah for the first time. She stayed for about four months before leaving. “It was amazing. But I wasn’t ready in a lot of ways. I wasn’t done. I didn’t want to stop. I just thought I needed a break to deal with mental health stuff and to deal with the grief.” Unfortunately, quickly went back to using. She came back for a second time. But again, found herself focused on the wrong aspects of her life—including but not limited to—looking for work before she was ready. “On day like 91, I was using, but going to work. It was really bad. I wasn’t ready, and I left again.”
Lucky number three, and Nicole is thriving. Truly thriving. For the first time, maybe ever. “Something clicked within me where I was like, ‘I can’t keep doing this. I have no more safety nets. My dad and step-mom are over me. I don’t have my mom to fall back on. I really have to throw myself into this.’” She threw herself deep into the program, socialized, laughed with her friends, and cried in her groups. She even has an internship with the Temple, which has allowed her to dive into her Judaism as well as give back to the community in a big way. She’s taking her time and staying present—valuing the community and connectedness it brings her. “Without my treatment team, the staff, and the community, I would not be able to do this.” Nicole’s gratitude is noticeably overflowing for the opportunities she is being given and how Beit T’Shuvah has allowed her the room to grow. “They give you enough rope to either swing on or hang yourself.” She’s looking forward now. “The future for me looks like giving back to people in whatever capacity I can.”
For Nicole, life has been both a series of comedies and tragedies. She’s learned that she can navigate it all, with the grace and poise of any seasoned actor. The difference now? She’s not performing. It’s not an act. The kindness, warmth, and love you feel when you interact with her—even if for just a moment—is entirely genuine. Her story is no longer defined by what she’s endured—it’s defined by who she has become. Nicole stands as proof that even through the darkest scenes, the play can turn toward redemption. When you’re staring into the crowd, legs shaking, barely keeping your sobriety together, Nicole is there is hold your hand and guide you to center stage. Because Nicole is radiant, strong, and unafraid—the perfect person to be the one to help others step into the light. The perfect person to be that light that guides their way. The perfect person to be the spotlight.
…and scene.