From teenage cocaine addiction to business leadership: a healing journey

Lezly Kaye’s life appeared flawless on the surface, but she was living with a six-day-a-week cocaine habit she could barely function without. She kept the secret from her husband as she navigated a life of partying with outlaw motorcycle gangs, currency around the clock, and a merciless internal pull toward drugs. Her story, she says, shows that recovery is possible and that life can be rebuilt on the other side of addiction.

Growing up amid drug use and danger, Kaye found herself drawn to the thrill and the sense of status that came with the party scene. At 17 she was introduced to cocaine by members of bikie clubs, and the escalation began years later when she relocated from Western Australia to the Gold Coast, Australia’s party capital. The move was meant to escape a chaotic home life, but it did not fix what followed. By the end of her teens she was hopelessly addicted to cocaine, a revelation that would circle back to haunt her for years. She says safety never felt guaranteed at home, so danger felt oddly familiar—and it was, for a while, intoxicatingly comforting. The party never paused; she remembers nights that stretched on for days, with every evening a new round of club energy and drug use. Monday, however, was her sober night—the one line she refused to cross, a miracle in retrospect given how often she slipped away from restraint.

The lifestyle quickly extended beyond recreation. She found a way to translate the chaos into a livelihood: she worked private events as a skimpy bikini-clad waitress, a role that put her in proximity to the nightlife and, inevitably, to cocaine. Cocaine kept her alert and in control in the eyes of others, she says, and it felt safer than alcohol because it seemed to preserve a sense of competence. In her words, she was a high-functioning addict who believed the drug was acceptable—“not heroin,” she would tell herself, a mistake that would prove costly. The cycle gained momentum as she traded the anonymity of youth for a sense of power that came from looking the part of a successful party girl. The bills came in fast: she would typically earn between $2,000 and $5,000 a week as a semi-nude waitress, with her physical appearance reinforcing the perception that looks equaled authority. Yet the outward shine concealed a crumbling self-worth, forged in a childhood of instability, and a growing sense that she was running from more than just her past.

From Tuesday through to Sunday, it was non-stop chaos. She describes the atmosphere of the Gold Coast party scene as intoxicating and dangerous in equal measure, a place where she could feel important while also convincing herself that cocaine was merely a social prop, a “fun party drug” rather than a hard one. She believed the drug offered stamina for long nights and an illusion of control that felt essential to surviving a life she didn’t want but couldn’t escape. As the years passed, her addiction deepened, and the line between performance and reality blurred. She was a teen facing a world she didn’t know how to navigate, and the drug became a companion that masked pain she could not name.

Despite the chaos, the story did not unfold toward tragedy. After years of use, she reached what she describes as rock bottom at 21. She woke up one morning in a flat cluttered with the remains of a wild night, a sinking feeling in her throat that signaled a turning point she could not ignore. She packed her bags and left without telling her boss or friends. Returning to Western Australia marked the beginning of a rebirth. At 21 she was baptized in the Catholic Church and started a proper career—no longer as a bikini waitress, but in recruitment. She had once doubted religion, but she believed the rite could wipe clean the old version of herself. The pivot was transformative: within two years she was earning more than half a million dollars and had acquired properties that signaled security, even as the past hovered in the background.

Yet success did not erase the shadow of what she had done to herself. The drive that had spurred her ascent became a form of self-medication, a way to escape lingering ghosts. She worked 12-hour days, six days a week, her calendar filled with meetings and deadlines in a sector known for its fast pace and, at times, hard-partying culture. She met a man with whom she would share a decade together and a child who is now six. She kept her past as a cocaine addict a secret from her husband, fearing judgment and the erasure of what she believed was the life she had built. In truth, the secrecy created a disconnection that she believes undermined intimacy and depth in their relationship, even as they travelled and played the role of devoted parents.

Time passed in a way that resembled a modern-day fable: a climb to the top of a top-producing career, followed by a reckoning with the costs of a life lived in the glare of achievement. At the apex of this period, she led a company that became a significant business venture. She built the business with an investor partner, growing from a startup to a valuation of about $60 million in 18 months. It was a powerful achievement, but it came with a price. In 2022 she sold the company’s assets and took a year off, a decision born of burnout and the need to slow down. When the dust settled, she faced a tax debt of $3 million—a debt she describes as not insurmountable but daunting enough to test all her resilience. Her response was starkly pragmatic: she believed she could overcome any obstacle, and she did. By January 2023 she began a coaching and virtual assistant business, and in her first year she hit six figures in revenue. She now projects a seven-figure turnover and speaks openly about using the same inner restlessness that fueled her party days as a force for building a real, meaningful life.

The journey was not linear. It required the kind of recalibration that health professionals describe as essential for sustained recovery: acknowledging past harm, seeking professional help when needed, building new routines, and cultivating a sense of purpose beyond achievement. For Kaye, that meant reorienting her energy toward helping others—particularly women—rewrite their stories and reclaim their health, even in the face of debt and personal history that might threaten to derail progress. The discipline she developed in business—focus, persistence, risk assessment, and accountability—translated into a different form of care: choosing healthier coping mechanisms, setting boundaries, and prioritizing emotional and mental well-being for herself and her child.

Throughout the years, the once-hidden truth of her addiction remained a quiet undercurrent in her life—the ordinary, enduring question of how to balance success with vulnerability. She describes the period of hidden pain as the most isolating part of her experience, and she emphasizes that recovery does not require erasing the past, only integrating it into a forward-facing narrative. She says the life she built is not about erasing what happened, but about choosing a different set of pathways—paths that support long-term health, resilience, and meaningful connection with her family and her work.

In looking back, she speaks with conviction about the possibility of transformation. The message she wants to share with her 19-year-old self—and with others who read her story—is simple: no matter how dark the past, the future remains within reach through careful choices, honest accountability, and a willingness to seek help when needed. Her candor reflects a broader health conversation about addiction: that recovery is a process, not a single moment, and that health is as much about creating supportive environments and sustainable routines as it is about abstaining from substances.

As told to Carina Stathis, Lezly Kaye’s arc—from a teenage cocaine addict to a self-made businesswoman and devoted mother—illustrates how the road to healing can be messy, non-linear, and deeply personal. It also demonstrates that health, in its broad sense, encompasses not only physical well-being but mental health, emotional resilience, and the social capital of support networks that help people rewrite their stories and build sustainable, healthier lives. The journey continues, with Kaye focusing on growth, accountability and the ongoing work of balancing ambition with personal well-being.