Kyanne’s Story
I didn’t go to rehab for myself. But rehab gave me back more than I ever lost.
I didn’t go to rehab for myself. I didn’t think I’d survive it. I didn’t walk into Destiny Haven looking for a new life. I went because I thought it was my only chance to see my kids again.
At that point, I didn’t care if I woke up the next day. I just wanted the pain to stop. I didn’t feel like a person anymore. I was just going through the motions. Numb. Hollow.
That first phone call was messy.
I’d just used.
I talked too much. But someone on the other end listened. They said, “You sound like a perfect fit.” And that was the beginning.
I’d spent years telling myself I wasn’t addicted. That once I got my kids back, I’d stop. That the ache I felt was just about them. But three years in, with no more charges and no court orders, everything was cleared. I could have stepped up and fought for them. Instead, I used. Again. That was the moment I realised it wasn’t just about my girls. I couldn’t face life at all, with or without them. I’d run out of excuses.
And for the first time, I said it out loud. I need help.
I didn’t know what Destiny Haven was. I just knew I had nowhere else to turn. I didn’t grow up with safety. My childhood was full of trauma, chaos and pain. When I arrived at Destiny, I was bracing for rejection. But instead, Julia met me at the gate and hugged me. I broke down. I hadn’t felt safe like that in years.
I didn’t know what to expect when I arrived.
I didn’t know what Destiny Haven was.
I just knew I needed to see my kids again.
At first, I just counted down the days, waiting for it to be over. But something began to shift. I started to feel. To rest. To trust. The staff didn’t shame me or punish me when I messed up. They corrected with love.
They stayed steady when I spiralled. They saw past the behaviour and loved me anyway. For the first time, I didn’t run when it got hard. I stayed. I did the work. And that changed everything.
I used to think love had to be earned. That if I was useful enough, helpful enough, good enough, maybe I’d be worthy. But at Destiny, I was loved just for being me. Even the messy, hidden parts I’d spent years trying to cover up. I began to forgive myself and even started forgiving others. I enrolled in study. When I passed my first assignment, I cried.
That season changed my life. I found a relationship with God. Not religion, but real love.
I began to believe what others had seen in me all along.
After graduating in 2019, I stayed on as an intern. Not because I had it all together, but because I felt called to give back.
Little by little, I grew in confidence. I took small steps forward. I said yes to more responsibility. And somehow, I stepped into leadership.
These days, I’m part of the leadership team that helps lead our daily operations. I’m mentored by Janine, someone who has walked this journey before me and believed in me from the start. I run groups, mentor women and hold space for people walking through the same kind of pain I once carried. I also help manage one of our social enterprises. But honestly, it’s not about titles or roles. It’s about people and loving unconditionally.
You never really “arrive.” Even five years on, I’m still learning through high moments and hard ones. There are still hard days. But I’m no longer stuck in survival. I’m living. I’m growing. I’m becoming who I was always meant to be.
But the most precious part of this story is my girls. The bond we share now is strong, safe and real. We’ve walked through a lot to get here, slowly and beautifully. That’s where the deepest healing has happened.
I thought I’d lost them forever. I thought I’d lost myself too. But I was wrong. My story didn’t end in addiction. It’s just the beginning.