Recovering Takes A Village, Not A Stereotype

As we mark National Recovery Month this September, I find myself reflecting on my own journey with Substance Use Disorder, or SUD, and the vital role that community plays in both addiction and healing. My experience is a testament to how crucial a supportive environment is for people to rebuild their lives with dignity, especially now, as communities across our country try to close the door on those who deserve a chance at recovery.

My story is not unique. Like so many others, I struggled in silence. Substance use was a topic never openly acknowledged in my family—it was treated like dirty laundry, something to be disregarded, not diagnosed. As a nurse and a loving mother, I presented a picture-perfect life to those around me. I was in denial myself, too: I believed I was immune to any of the pressures that could lead to substance use, despite living in a city and state where it was so prevalent. And even with my medical background, I was unable to see my own addiction for the health issue that it was.

It wasn’t until I confronted my internalized stereotypes and became vulnerable with others that I began to heal. Since there was a lack of official recovery services in my hometown, I realized recovery cannot occur in isolation, it requires a supportive community and dedicated spaces and professionals. Even with a lack of drug courts, reentry drug courts, and support groups available in my city at the time, my own recovery was made possible because of my friends and family: the very community I had feared to share my truth with.

Shunning and shaming does not stop SUD. Our siblings, children, and friends deserve our support and should not be labeled as “dangerous” or “criminals.”

Once my truth was laid bare, others became more vulnerable with me and began to share their own stories. There were fellow parents, neighbors, and friends all of whom believed they were the only ones struggling. I learned that SUD thrives in secrecy. This experience inspired me to create a recovery center so others could heal within the community and find the support they need, free from stigma.

Alongside my family, I founded Lawrence County Recovery, LLC (LCR), an agency dedicated to breaking the cycle of shame surrounding SUD, and providing recovery services that empower individuals to reenter their communities with pride. Too often, people in recovery are met with judgment instead of compassion, turned away when they should be welcomed. Recognizing that peer and community support makes the recovery process more sustainable, LCR has set up recovery housing, or sober living homes. In these homes, small groups of people in recovery can live together, support one another, and hold each other accountable as a step toward independent living.

Despite these successes, and after more than five years of supporting over 1,500 people in recovery, I am still witnessing firsthand how discrimination harms and stigmatizes LCR’s clients.

This past August, LCR filed a lawsuit against the Village of Coal Grove, Ohio for engaging in a uniquely egregious and discriminatory campaign targeting individuals in recovery from SUD. The complaint alleges that Coal Grove has imposed a moratorium on new recovery homes, enforced invasive and restrictive requirements on existing providers, and pursued criminal charges against LCR’s leadership, all based on unfounded fears and prejudices.

It is deeply painful to watch as some of my local leaders and neighbors turn their backs on members of our community. Shunning and shaming does not stop SUD. Our siblings, children, and friends deserve our support and should not be labeled as “dangerous” or “criminals.”

People in recovery are protected under federal and state disability laws, including the Fair Housing Act and the Americans with Disabilities Act, which are designed to ensure access to the resources necessary to rebuild lives. This lawsuit is about more than just one city or one recovery provider—it represents a broader struggle for recovery justice.

In Lawrence County alone, zoning proposals in Ironton and South Point have threatened treatment facilities. Throughout Ohio and across the country, local governments are enacting policies that actively hinder recovery services, often driven by misinformation, fear, and stigma.

If we are to make real progress, we must dismantle the harmful stereotypes that surround substance use disorder and embrace the true values of community—belonging and acceptance. My hope is that this stand against discrimination sends a message across the state, that hate has no place in our homes and that healing takes a village.

Recovery is possible, but it cannot happen in the shadows. As a society, we must do better—opening our communities and our hearts to those who need support. This National Recovery Month, let us remember that addiction does not discriminate, and neither should we.