By Andrew Mestler
PRS, Client Advocate & Peer Recovery Supporter
Ohio Community Health Recovery Centers
I never set out to work in treatment. In fact, for a long time, I ran in the opposite direction. I ran from help, from honesty, from myself, and I felt like there was no chance I would work recovery. Recovery wasn’t even a word I knew, and certainly not a concept I embraced. It felt heavy and final, like something that happened to other people. I had always told myself I could fix it on my own. The reality is that addiction does not care who you are, how much you love your family, or how many promises you make to yourself. It has a way of breaking down everything you thought made you strong until it has you right where it wants you, isolated, alone, and hopeless. Because the truth is, we cannot do this alone.
Survival Mode
For years, I did not acknowledge it, but I was living in survival mode, barely holding things together on the outside while falling apart on the inside. I convinced myself that if I just worked harder, stayed busy enough, or kept pushing down the pain, no one would notice. Ultimately, the cracks always show. Admitting I needed help was basically out of the question, but eventually, I had to face the fact that the life I was living was not working. Even still, confronting reality was so terrifying that I chose to continue down a path I knew would eventually be the end of me. At a certain point, I didn’t want, nor did I think I needed help, but the longer things went on, the more I saw that was exactly what I needed. I tried more times than I can count to get it right. I went to multiple facilities, determined each time to find a way to make things work. I continued to think I knew best, and I always ended up trying to do it my way. Most programs felt one size fits all, structured but sterile, clinical, and rigid. I would nod along in groups, tell myself I had learned enough and that things would be different, and then leave unchanged.
The Wake Up
The truth was, I didn’t believe I could recover, and deep down, I really didn’t think I deserved to. I relapsed multiple times, each time telling myself in detox, “I will never end up here again.” I did, though, again and again, until finally I realized that my way was not working. That realization came for me in the ICU. It was waking up to hear that I was surrounded by my family, unconscious, breathing through a tube, and being read my last rites. At that point, I could not ignore the universe screaming at me, giving me one last chance to ask for help. I did not need more willpower. I needed connection, empathy, and a place that offered compassion, seeing me as more than my worst day.
Finding Connection
When I entered recovery for the last time, I thought I knew what to expect. I knew counselors and therapists would tell me the same coping skills and behavioral techniques they had read in a textbook, as I had heard so many times before. What I found at OCHRC were people who did not look down on me, who did not try to fix me, but who simply met me where I was. They listened, they related, and they reminded me that recovery is not about perfection, it is about connection. I found people like me who had been beaten down by their addiction and picked themselves back up with the help of others. That is the human connection that saved my life, and that is what continues to shape how I show up today.
The Work Today
Today, as a Peer Recovery Supporter, Case Manager, Client Advocate, and Alumni Coordinator at OCHRC, I have the privilege of walking alongside others as they begin their own journeys. It can be taxing work that is real, raw, and sometimes heartbreaking, but it is also full of moments that remind me why I do this. I have seen people who felt hopeless, like I did, take their first steps toward healing. I have watched the light return to someone’s eyes after years of living in darkness, like I had. I have learned that sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do for someone is just to show up, listen, and let them know they matter. Reminding someone that they are not alone, that there is hope, and that they can find a life they deserve on the other side, as you have.
Why Ohio Community Health Recovery Centers
The beauty of OCHRC is that it is not just a workplace, it is a community that truly understands the value of lived experience. Here, we do not see our clients as problems to solve. We see them as people to know, stories to honor, and potential to be realized. We lead with empathy because most of us have been there. We know what it is like to feel broken, and we know what it is like to heal. We also know the power that lies in seeing someone like us actually recover and know happiness.
Healing While Helping
My experience at OCHRC as a client was the thing that saved my life, but working here has helped me continue to grow. I am still able to heal the parts of myself I didn’t even realize were still hurting. Every time I sit with a peer and share space with them, whether it is in a group, one-on-one, or even a ride in the van, I am reminded of how far I have come and how connected we all are in this work. I used to think recovery was about getting my old life back, but I have learned that is not what it’s about. Recovery is about building a new life. One with intention, gratitude, humility, and purpose.
The Hard Days
Are there days when I am tested? Of course. There are days when the shared experiences are heavy, when relapse hits close to home, or when you wish you could do more. The emotional burden of loss is one that those in recovery have to shoulder more than most. Is it worth it? Absolutely, without a doubt. There’s no substitute for the days that fill you up, like a client celebrating their first 90 days, laughter in the group room, or that quiet moment when someone says, “Thanks for believing in me.” Those are the moments that make the tests worth it. They are the reminders that loss is not as heavy when it is carried together and that hope is contagious. The reminders that every person we share that hope with has the potential to take it and share it with someone else in need.
Purpose From the Past
The parts of my past I used to hide have become the strongest parts of my present, and what once felt like failure now fuels my purpose. Through my time at OCHRC, I have learned that my past is not something to hide, but rather it is the foundation of my purpose. Every scar, every mistake, every challenging comeback has shaped the way I serve others. My case manager, when I was a client at OCHRC, Amanda, helped me realize something that has guided me in my recovery and in my life.
If my story helps even one person feel less alone, then all the pain, sadness, and misery I went through were worth it.
I thought I knew what recovery was all about, nearly three years ago. What I now know is this.
Recovery is not about never falling again. It is about never giving up the chance to rise back up. If we can keep passing hope forward, one person, one story, and one day at a time, then the light and the lives we build together will always outshine the darkness we came from.
