Shontelle Scott

Shontelle Scott From heroin addiction to rebuilding my life 🤍
Recovery • Health • Fitness • Real life
Sharing the beautiful, brutal & everything in between.

A hospital room has a strange way of changing your definition of a good life.I used to think the things worth being grat...
02/09/2026

A hospital room has a strange way of changing your definition of a good life.

I used to think the things worth being grateful for were the big things — achievements, milestones, exciting plans, the moments you’d actually think to take a photo of.

Now I find myself dreaming about things I barely noticed before.

Sleeping in my own bed. Going outside because I feel like it. Driving somewhere with nowhere particularly important to be. Making my own coffee. Going to the gym. Having plans that have absolutely nothing to do with doctors, medications or procedures.

Even being busy. Even being bored.

The ordinary parts of life I once rushed through are the exact parts I’m desperate to get back to.

I don’t think I’ll leave this chapter grateful for being sick. But I do think I’ll leave it with a completely different understanding of what it means to be well.

Turns out, a beautiful life isn’t always made up of extraordinary moments.

Sometimes it’s simply having the freedom to live an ordinary Tuesday. 🤍

What ordinary thing are you grateful for today? 🤍

01/09/2026

There’s an irony in fighting this hard for a body I once did everything I could to destroy.

For years, I put things into my body that could have killed me. I treated it like it was disposable. I didn’t think about nutrition, strength, longevity or what it might feel like to one day desperately want my health.

Then I got clean.

Somewhere along the way, I started wanting a life. Not just wanting to survive — actually wanting to be here for it.

And now, one month into hospital, I find myself grieving the most ordinary things. My own bed. Driving my car. Going to the gym. Seeing the people I love without them having to come to a hospital room. Having the freedom to simply get up and live my day.

Things I once took completely for granted now feel like everything.

I miss my life. I miss feeling strong. I miss me.

But maybe that’s what has surprised me most about all of this: I want it back so fu***ng badly.

There was a time when I didn’t care whether I lived or died. Now I’m fighting for nutrition. Fighting for strength. Fighting for my health and for a future I finally want to be here for.

Getting sick didn’t teach me that I wanted to live.

It showed me just how much getting sober already had. 🤍

31/08/2026

Recovery didn’t give me the life I expected.

I think somewhere in my head, I imagined getting clean would be the hard part — and once I did that, life would slowly start falling into place.

Instead, recovery has asked me to keep choosing life even when life doesn’t look particularly beautiful.

9 months clean, and I’m writing this from a hospital bed.

This season has tested me physically, mentally and spiritually in ways I wasn’t prepared for. There have been moments where I’ve felt incredibly strong, and others where I’ve been frustrated, exhausted and completely over it.

But there’s one thing I keep coming back to:

I spent years destroying my body.

Now I get the privilege of fighting for it.

Maybe recovery isn’t about finally getting an easy life. Maybe it’s learning that when life gets hard, I don’t have to run from it anymore.

I can stay.

I can feel it.

And I can keep going. 🤍

31/08/2026

Another procedure. Another attempt at moving forward. 🤍

Today was my third NJ placement, and I’d be lying if I said this hasn’t been incredibly hard.

I’m 30 days into this hospital admission now, and I think a part of me truly believed that by this point we would be seeing more progress. That my body would be responding. That we would have found something that worked.

But we’re not there yet.

I’m frustrated. I’m exhausted. And underneath all of that, I’m enormously sad. There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that comes with trying everything asked of you and still watching your body struggle.

But I’m also trying not to let a difficult chapter convince me that there isn’t a better one ahead.

So today I showed up again. Another procedure, another tube, another attempt. I’m learning that sometimes progress isn’t the result you were hoping for — sometimes it’s simply finding the strength to keep trying when the results haven’t come yet.

Recovery has taken on so many different meanings for me over the past year. Today, it looked like this.

I’m allowed to be frustrated. I’m allowed to be sad. And I’m still allowed to believe things can get better. 🤍

Normal looks a little different these days.It’s coffee going cold beside a hospital bed. Flowers on a tray table. Writin...
30/08/2026

Normal looks a little different these days.

It’s coffee going cold beside a hospital bed. Flowers on a tray table. Writing down my thoughts because sometimes getting them out of my head is the only way I know how to make sense of them.

It’s learning to find little pieces of life inside a season that, at times, has felt like it put my entire life on pause.

I think I used to believe that I needed big things to feel fulfilled — progress I could see, places to be, plans to look forward to. Lately, life has been teaching me to notice much smaller things.

Sunlight through a hospital window.
Someone remembering how I take my coffee.
Fresh flowers.
A phone call from someone I love.
A good conversation with a nurse.
A day where my body gives me even the smallest break.

None of this is the version of “normal” I would have chosen for myself. And I’m still allowed to desperately want my old freedoms back while being grateful for what exists here.

Maybe that’s something this season is teaching me: gratitude doesn’t require pretending something is easy.

Sometimes it’s simply finding something beautiful in the middle of something you wish you weren’t going through.

For now, this is what normal looks like. And I’m learning to meet my life where it is. 🤍

I used to think recovery had one meaning: getting clean.I thought if I could survive addiction, get sober and rebuild my...
30/08/2026

I used to think recovery had one meaning: getting clean.

I thought if I could survive addiction, get sober and rebuild my life, I would have already fought the hardest battle of my life.

But recovery has followed me into places I never expected.

Into my health. My strength. My relationship with my body. My identity. And into learning how to love a life I once came dangerously close to losing.

Some parts of me are healing. Some are still very much under construction. And some versions of me I haven’t even met yet.

I used to think rebuilding meant getting back to the person I was before everything happened. I don’t think that’s the goal anymore.

I don’t want to go backwards.

I want to meet the woman all of this is creating.

I’m not starting over. I’m rebuilding. 🤍

And if you’re rebuilding something too, you’re welcome here.

29/08/2026

I thought getting clean would be the hardest thing I would ever have to do.

I thought once I survived addiction, rebuilt my life and started becoming someone I was proud of again, the hardest chapter would be behind me.

I didn’t expect recovery to look like this.

I didn’t expect hospital rooms, feeding tubes, procedures, my body becoming weaker while mentally I’ve fought so hard to become stronger.

There’s something incredibly strange about finally wanting to live — really, genuinely wanting a future — and then finding yourself fighting for your health.

But maybe that’s exactly why I refuse to give up now.

Addiction taught me how quickly I could destroy my life. Recovery has taught me how fiercely I’m willing to fight for it.

Nine months clean. 🤍
And whatever this next chapter asks of me, I’m choosing life through this one too.

27/08/2026

Day 28 in hospital 🏥🤍

A little glimpse into what life looks like for me right now.

There are appointments, medications, feeds, procedures and days where my body feels completely exhausted — but there are also flowers, visits, laughter, little routines and moments that remind me there is still so much life happening within these four walls.

This isn’t where I expected my recovery journey to take me. I fought incredibly hard to get my life back from addiction, and now I’m having to fight for my health in a completely different way.

Some days I handle it better than others. But every morning I wake up and make the same decision: keep going.

I’m still here. Still fighting. Still grateful. Still choosing life — one day at a time. 🤍

25/08/2026

A little change around here today 🤍

I’ve dropped the “Vlogs” and this page is now simply Shontelle Scott.

Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being a page about what I do and became a place where I share who I am — and the reality of the life I’m living.

Right now, a lot of that reality is health. Hospital beds, feeding tubes, procedures, setbacks, small wins, difficult days and learning to find gratitude in circumstances I never imagined I’d be facing.

Before this, it was addiction and learning how to live without drugs. And hopefully, in the chapters ahead, it will be rebuilding my strength, getting back into the gym, boxing again and rediscovering parts of myself that illness has temporarily put on hold.

That’s what I want this page to be.

Recovery in every sense of the word.

Recovery from addiction. Recovery of my health. Recovery of my strength. And ultimately, rebuilding a life I fought incredibly hard to keep.

So if you’ve been here for years, thank you for growing with me. And if you’ve found me somewhere along the way — welcome. 🤍

There’s still so much of this story left to write.

Address

Auckland

Telephone

+642108943124

Website

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Shontelle Scott posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Shortcuts

Featured

Share