My name is Jada, and for most of my life, chaos was the only thing that ever felt steady.

I grew up in a home where addiction shaped every corner of our lives. My mom was a drug dealer and in and out of rehabs and institutions. And because no one in my family believed in honesty or communication, I was always told she was “sick” or “in the hospital.” I never learned what danger looked like–only what survival did.

By the time I was a teenager, I’d spent more of my life in juvenile facilities than at home. Prison felt like something that happened to “people like us.” It felt…expected. As if the only story I was meant to live was the one I’d already seen.

I wish I could say I broke that pattern early. But I didn’t. I carried it straight into adulthood.

After my first time in adult prison, I slipped back into the life I knew. I stayed out for eight years, but they weren’t years I could be proud of. Two little girls were born during my addiction. I wanted desperately to be their mother, but the drugs kept winning. And the day their father relapsed and shot me in front of them, something inside me split open — fear, grief, shame, all crashing at once.

Then, only months later, my mother died. When I learned she had relapsed on drugs she found in my bag, I broke in a way I didn’t know was possible. Everything collapsed. My girls were placed with extended family. I was homeless, addicted, and drowning in guilt.

On April 4, 2016, I was arrested. And for the first time in my life, I was grateful something had stopped me.

I walked into prison determined that the generational cycle that swallowed my mother and almost swallowed me would not take my daughters. I joined Televerde within two months, even though I had once laughed at how much “work” it looked like. The truth is that the work saved me.

Inside Televerde, and later the Televerde Foundation, people believed in me long before I believed in myself. They taught me discipline, resilience, and communication. These are all the things no one had ever taught me growing up. They prepared me to work and live.

But the biggest change wasn’t in the classroom. It was in how I saw myself as a mother.

My girls were terrified to trust me. My oldest stopped talking to me years before I came home. I didn’t know if she’d ever forgive me. But the Foundation taught me how to show up differently with accountability, consistency, and patience. When I came home, everything I’d learned became the bridge between us. The first time my daughter sat on the floor with me, crying with me instead of running from me, I knew the cycle was breaking.

Today, my girls are 15 and 16. They are strong, grounded, thoughtful, and intentional. They ask for advice, listen and talk to me. They trust me, and they know I’m not going anywhere. That’s the legacy the Televerde Foundation helped me build. We are a family that gets to heal…finally.

Today, I’m proud to say I work for the Foundation that changed my life. I’ve been here since the day its doors opened. I advocated for this program before it even existed because I knew, in my bones, what women lose without support, and what they could become with it.

Right now, PATHS in Indiana and Arizona could lose funding. If my story touched you, please help protect this program for the women still inside. They deserve their chance too.

DONATE NOW TO HELP US ROTECT HER SECOND CHANCE.

P.S. As a small thank-you, every $25 you donate (or monthly gift) enters you in a drawing for a 7-night stay for four at the Mayan Palace in your choice of Riviera Maya, Nuevo Vallarta, or Puerto Peñasco.

With gratitude,

Jada
PATHS Graduate & Foundation Team Member