GateHouse Lancaster
Taylor Faison never imagined her life would come apart so quickly.
She hadn’t grown up around drugs. She hadn’t experienced trauma. She was a college student with a good childhood, a supportive family, and a promising future.
“I had never even used drugs,” Taylor said. “I drank socially, but that was it.”
Then, at 20 years old, she got pregnant. Complications during delivery required an emergency C-section and two epidurals—one of which injured her back. Doctors prescribed Percocet for the pain.
“It made me feel better,” Taylor said. “It helped with the physical pain—and with my postpartum depression.”
Before long, though, she was misusing the pills.
“I started asking for more even when I didn’t need them,” she said. “And they kept giving them to me.”
A Downward Spiral
After dropping out of Delaware State University, Taylor moved back to her small hometown of Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, to raise her newborn daughter. She felt isolated. All her friends were still in school. Her child’s father was incarcerated. Her identity was unraveling.
“I was lonely,” she said. “I felt like I had gone from being this bright, ambitious 20-year-old to being stuck—like my life had ended.”
When her prescriptions expired, she began buying Percocet on the street.
“I didn’t even know that was an option,” Taylor said. “Eventually, I couldn’t stop.”
The behavior escalated when her daughter’s father was released from jail and moved in. He was abusive, putting her in the hospital multiple times, she said. The most traumatic moment came when he held her and her infant daughter hostage for three days.
“He wouldn’t let us leave the room,” Taylor said. “I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t feed her. I had no clothes on. I thought I wasn’t going to survive.”
On the third day, he stepped into the bathroom and Taylor saw her chance. She pushed the door open and ran to freedom.
Chasing Relief—and Losing Everything
Taylor turned to heroin when she couldn’t find pills.
“I told myself I’d never do it” she said. “But one night I was so sick, I gave in. I did a little bit—and I felt better instantly. That’s all it took.”
Soon she was using daily and began injecting.
“Everything unraveled fast after that,” she said. “I lost my apartment. I started selling just to support my habit.”
Her young daughter was still living with her at the time.
“There were nights I’d leave her sleeping in her crib and drive to Williamsport to get drugs. I’d pray she’d still be there when I got back,” Taylor said.
When her mother discovered needles in her belongings, she was kicked out—and lost custody.
“In a way, it was a relief,” Taylor admitted. “I didn’t have to lie anymore. I didn’t have to pretend.”
She moved in with a man who also used. Within two weeks, her mother called and told her a detective was looking for her. She had been under surveillance. She had no idea someone she knew had turned into a police informant.
Jail, Drug Court, and Denial
Taylor turned herself in, thinking it would be a minor offense.
“The house I lived in had been in a school zone, which resulted in added charges,” she said. Her mother let her detox in jail before posting bail.
Taylor was recommended for drug court and accepted into the program, but she wasn’t ready for recovery.
“I thought I could stop when I needed to. But I couldn’t,” she said. “At that point, I was no longer chasing a high. I was using just to feel normal and not feel sick.”
One night, with her daughter and some “friends” in the car, Taylor overdosed. Instead of rushing to get her help, her friends dumped her lifeless body on the sidewalk, dropped her baby next to her, and drove off.
“I didn’t wake up until I was at the hospital. And the first thing I did when I came to? I called those same people for more,” she said. “That’s how sick I was.”
Taylor was given an ankle monitor. She cut it off … and overdosed again. And once again, she wound up in jail.
A Moment of Clarity
As before, she detoxed cold turkey. Unlike her previous incarceration, which lasted just a few weeks, Taylor endured months of post-detox depression. She began to confront her demons. It was an inflection point.
“This was the first time I was clean and clear-headed,” Taylor said. “No fog. No drugs. Just me—and the wreckage I’d caused.”
She called her mom, who refused to speak with her. Her daughter cried for hours on a missed Mother’s Day visit.
“That was it,” Taylor said. “That was my breaking point.”
She entered Concept 90, a long-term rehab program. There, she began to see the bigger picture.
“It wasn’t just the drugs. It was everything—my behaviors, my mindset, my choices,” she said. In one family session, her loved ones told her how her addiction had impacted them. “Even my brother’s girlfriend spoke. And I realized I wasn’t just hurting myself. I was hurting everyone in my life, everyone I loved.”
A New Direction at The GateHouse
When her rehab counselor suggested she continue her recovery at The GateHouse, Taylor agreed.
“I knew couldn’t go back to Lewisburg. Too many people, too many triggers,” she said. “The GateHouse was a fresh start.”
Taylor was accepted into the Residential Extended Care program and found structure, support, and purpose.
“Being surrounded by women in recovery helped me see I wasn’t alone,” she said. “The counselors helped me see I wasn’t a bad person—I was just a sick person who could get better.”
Taylor eventually entered GateHouse Transitional Living and became a house manager.
“That meant everything to me,” Taylor said. “No one had ever trusted me before. And now, I was helping other women stay clean.”
Healing, Stability—and a Second Chance at Motherhood
She stayed for a full year, working at a local diner and focusing on herself.
“My mom said, ‘Take the time you need. Don’t rush to get your daughter back—build your foundation first.’”
She did. She got her own apartment and regained custody.
“The day I got my daughter back was the happiest day of my life,” Taylor said. “I was taking her to kindergarten, packing lunches—I was a mom again.”
But recovery isn’t always a straight line. After three and a half years clean, Taylor smoked marijuana with a friend. She now has five and a half years clean.
“One puff. That’s all it took to remind me how close I still was to relapse,” she said. “I called my sponsor. I went to a meeting. I told on myself, and that saved me.”
Building a Life Beyond Her Wildest Dreams
Today, Taylor lives in Williamsport with her boyfriend of six years. Together, they own SAARS Disposal, a thriving waste management business serving nearly 3,000 customers. They recently bought their dream home and are expecting their fourth child, including Taylor’s stepdaughter and their first son.
Her oldest daughter is now 12 and blossoming into a competitive gymnast.
“My youngest daughter has never seen me use—and she never will,” Taylor said. “That alone makes everything worth it.”
She credits The GateHouse—and the people who believed in her—for helping her reclaim her life.
“The program helped me become someone my daughter can look up to,” Taylor said. “I didn’t think that would ever be possible. But here I am.”
To watch Taylor recite a poem celebrating her first year clean, click here.
The GateHouse is here for you, whether you need outpatient support, transitional living, or residential extended care programs. If you’re looking for help now, give us a call at 717-393-3215 or reach out to us today to get started.
When Natasha McCall walked through the doors of The GateHouse the day after Christmas in 2018, she didn’t know she was entering the place that would transform her life. She had other plans … and those plans included palm trees and sunshine.
At just 15 years old, Natasha became a mother and immediately felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. She was desperate to provide some sense of stability for her newborn son.
She completed detox, stayed for rehab, and entered the partial program. Her next plan? Florida.
“I wasn’t calling my sponsor. I wasn’t going to meetings,” she said. “I was still trying to hold things together, but I wasn’t doing the work.”