Nikki M. sits across from me, her hands folded neatly in her lap, as she smiles with a quiet sense of peace—a peace she never thought she’d find. For much of her life, Nikki’s existence felt like a game of survival. She’d escaped abusive relationships, lived under the crushing weight of addiction, and survived hospital stays, jail cells, and moments of despair so deep she wasn’t sure she’d ever climb out. Yet here she is, speaking about freedom as if she’s just discovered a long-lost treasure…and in many ways, she has.
Nikki grew up in Carmel, California, a place she describes as “the beautiful town in America.” Surrounded by picturesque beaches and an idyllic small-town charm, her childhood should have been the kind most people envy—postcard-perfect. Her family was loving and stable, and her parents were supportive and kind. But Nikki felt restless. “ I felt guilty for a while for being such an extreme alcoholic because I didn’t have an abusive upbringing or traumatic childhood. I had nothing but a perfectly happy family…I wish I would have appreciated it more.” Nikki simply couldn’t wait to grow up—be an adult—be on her own. So, freshman year of high school, she started taking college classes. The idea of being in college sounded so appealing to her. For a moment, the future looked bright.
By 14, Nikki’s restlessness had led her into a relationship with a much older man. “He was 20,” she says, pausing to let the gravity of that statement settle. “That should have been a red flag.” That relationship became the beginning of a downward spiral. He introduced her to drinking and smoking, and soon, her life started to revolve around substances and secrecy.
By 16, Nikki was trapped in a cycle of abuse. “He was incredibly possessive. I remember being at lunch, and a waiter smiled at me. When we got home, he accused me of wanting to sleep with the waiter and beat the shit out of me.” Over time, the violence escalated. He broke her elbow, slammed her face into the ground, and choked her blue. She was terrified he would kill her…just like he’d often say he would. “I tried to leave him so many times,” Nikki says, “but he’d threaten to kill himself, and I’d end up staying.”
By 17, Nikki saw a way out: modeling. Her tall frame and striking features landed her a contract in New York City. She left her abusive ex and set sail for salvation…in a city that notoriously chews up and spits people out. But New York brought its own challenges. Living in a model apartment (a four-bedroom penthouse filled with other models), with little supervision, Nikki was handed a bottle of tequila on her first night and quickly introduced to cocaine. “I was such a sheltered little kid. I remember there were little baggies of this white powder everywhere in the apartment and my mom would use baking soda, the clean all the time. So, I was like, ‘Why do you have baking soda? Are you cleaning with it?’ She was clubbing and partying for the first time in her life and she truly felt out of her depth.
Nikki’s drinking increased as she tried to keep up with the fast-paced lifestyle. Alcohol became a way to dull the anxiety of constantly feeling like she didn’t belong. After two years in New York, she returned to California, hoping to reconnect with her family. But by then, alcohol had a firm grip on her life. Life became a series of toxic relationships and escalating addiction from there. She eventually moved down to LA and started rubbing elbows with the Hollywood elites. Her drinking worsened as she tried to cope with the pressure—Nikki hit a new low. “I lost everything,” she says. “My money, my self-respect, my connection to my family. I was just lost.”
After a car accident, she hit it off with the tow truck driver who was called to move her car. They were together for many years, but this relationship too ended up being very abusive. He would follow her on home cameras, monitor who she hung out with, and even go so far as to put trackers on her.
On the weekend of her sister’s college graduation, the whole family—a family she had become estranged from—was planning on flying out to Georgia to attend the ceremony. Nikki blacked out, got a DUI, was placed in jail, and missed it all. “My dad, who doesn’t drink because he lost his own father to alcoholism, told me he couldn’t watch me destroy myself anymore. He said goodbye. That broke me, but I still couldn’t stop.
Nikki’s rock bottom came in the form of a second DUI—with a blood alcohol level of 0.46. She took an Uber home from jail, had him stop at CVS, and chugged vodka in the backseat. When they got to her apartment, she had already blacked out. Her ex-boyfriend, who was in Vegas at a tow truck convention (I know, who knew they had those?) was tracking her moment by moment. That is when he saw on one of the home security cameras that the Uber driver was raping Nikki. He called the police, who promptly swarmed the apartment to save her.
This was all followed by a series of hospitalizations for seizures caused by alcohol withdrawal. “Doctors told me I was going to die,” pit stops in AA meetings, “It was kinda like a cult,” and DUI classes “when the school was done, I’d start drinking again.”
Eventually, in a moment of ultimate desperation, Nikki reached out to Beit T’Shuvah. Nikki found herself at Beit T’Shuvah in August 2024. She arrived broken, skeptical, and convinced she was beyond saving. “I didn’t believe it would work. I thought I’d stay for a month, relapse, and leave.”
Beit T’Shuvah gave Nikki something she hadn’t experienced in years: trust. “They give you enough rope to hang yourself. It’s reverse psychology or something. It made me want to prove that I am not going to go buy alcohol anytime I want to, but I genuinely don’t want to because they’re putting their trust in me.” For the first time, she wasn’t being treated like a lost cause and she was determined to rise to the occasion.
Over time, Nikki began to heal. She reconnected with her family, who now sleep peacefully at night knowing she’s safe. “My family’s so proud of me, which is everything to me. They’re so happy and they don’t worry.” With tears welling up in her eyes she continued, “My dad said, ‘I can lay down at night and put my head on a pillow, not worry if you’re going to die.’ That was a huge deal to me.”
Here, She rediscovered her passion for Pilates and started teaching again, this time with a clear head and genuine enthusiasm. She’s even met a boy who cares for her and appreciates her for who she is. Nikki knows now that it’s not just about staying sober—it’s about building a life worth staying sober for.
Today, Nikki radiates a confidence she never thought possible. “For so long, I was controlled by other people or by alcohol. Now, I’m free. Free to make my own choices, free to live my own life. And it feels incredible.” Nikki’s freedom isn’t just the absence of booze—it’s the presence of a life filled with hope, purpose, and self-respect. It’s in the laughter she shares with her family, the pride she feels in her work, and the quiet moments where she can finally breathe. Freedom, Nikki has learned, isn’t something that happens overnight. It’s earned, built brick by brick with every hard decision and every small victory. And now, it’s hers to keep.