By the age of fifteen, Alexandria drank and smoked pot on a daily basis. Selling stolen prescription drugs soon followed. At one point, she did dream of a better life—attending college, getting her degree—but she turned toward the needle instead. Even the gift of a baby boy could not unchain her from the chaos and destruction that branded her daily existence.

In time, she lost everything including cutody of her son. Her home became that of a jail cell, where she likely would have remained if not overhearing about a place they called “the Red Door”—where people like her got a second chance. 

Today, Alexandria is reunited with her son, employed and fully self-sustaining. She recently married and is confidently building a life—the exact opposite of the life she once knew. “I know I can do all of the things I need to do to provide for myself and my family,” she claims. “The things I never learned from my own mother. If you want something different from your life…” she continues, tears in her eyes, “I’ve learned you have to DO something different in your life. You must change.”