The full story
The story of the ones sharing their hearts. Want to see the exhibit in person? It's at Zumi's in Topsfield & Ipswich August 8th-September 6th 2026.
1987-2023
I am not a number.
I am a son, a brother, an uncle & a friend.
My name is Dan.
Shared by a sister.
I missed his last phone call.
I knew the signs, and I couldn’t help, no matter how much I tried.
Dan was in pain for years,
and the truth is,
our entire family felt his pain.
It hurts to watch someone you love from afar while trying to create boundaries to protect yourself.
I watched him crumble.
I watched addiction take over even when he cried and knew it wasn’t the life he wanted.
I watched him get sober,
then question his existence.
I watched him sabotage himself because he didn’t believe he deserved happiness.
All I could do was watch.
I offered love and guidance.
I showed up, again and again, because that was all I could do.
Loving someone who doesn’t know how to love themselves is the most painful thing I have ever experienced as a sister.
My love for you never waivered.
Never lost.
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1983 – 2021
Shared by a sister
In Reflection
A peace sign. A mirror. A moment in time.
Sometimes we look at a photograph and believe we know the whole story.
We don’t.
Sometimes we compare our lives to what we think we see in others.
We don’t know the whole story there either.
Substance use disorder reminds us that what we see is never the full truth of a human being.
Look again. Look deeper.
What do you see in him that you see in yourself?
Peace | Chaos
Trust | Fear
Surrender | Control
Presence | Escape
Compassion | Shame
Understanding | Judgment
Connection | Isolation
Expression | Silence
Being seen | Hiding
Awareness | Avoidance
Acceptance | Resistance
Beginning | Ending
Every moment, we are choosing.
What are you choosing to see?
Justin’s legacy is peace.
Where there is light and dark, there is also the space between where understanding begins.
This is where stigma softens—when we recognize that what we judge in others is often what we carry, fear, or avoid within ourselves.
In that recognition, we return to compassion.
This is just the beginning
Grateful recovering addict.
My clean date is 11/17/2008.
I believe I was born with the disease of addiction in my genes. I’m not saying I was destined for it, but I did have the predisposition — and my life circumstances helped activate it. Before my first drink or drug, lying was my first addiction. When your mother is mentally ill and institutionalized when you’re only five, you learn to smile, say you’re fine, and hide everything else.
From there came addictions to drama, unhealthy relationships, food, exercise, drinking, pills — anything that helped me escape myself. For years I lied, manipulated, and did things I never imagined just to feed my drug use.
By the summer of 2008, I was a shell of a human. The secrets, the cost & the pain were destroying my body, my bank account, and my soul. I’ll never forget the moment my higher power entered my life and allowed me to say words I could never say alone: “I need help,” I cried to my mom. I was sick, alone, and wishing for death.
She flew in, packed my bags & drove me 12 straight hours to Maryland, where I entered treatment. Since that day, I haven’t had a drink or drug. I surrendered my life to getting and staying clean and do whatever is needed to maintain my sanity, serenity, and sobriety.
I accept that I am an addict and cannot keep myself clean alone. I require daily maintenance through 12‑step programs that give me community, accountability, and hope. Today I live a life of rigorous honesty. I am a woman of integrity — a mother, wife, friend, and daughter. I honor the dark parts of me and hold myself with grace and love.
My life isn’t perfect, but I don’t pick up. I live openly now — no secrets, no shame. Even in deep grief, drinking and drugging are not options.
I share my story loudly, in living color, to help break the stigma of addiction and who it touches.
It’s all about the love.
It’s difficult to talk about sobriety for me.
Hard to share my feelings.
The roots go way back.
I only know that when I realized I had to sober up, there were people who would help me.
I could do this.
Drawing on my own willingness to accept that support is what made me succeed.
I’m now going on 32 years.
Trusting in myself made me grow stronger.
Action cures fear.
1995-2023
Loved son, deeply missed
Shared by a mother
Jon had a light that shined so brightly at times. He was funny, adventurous, and fiercely loyal to his friends. His mom describes him as a spirited, spontaneous soul who was always on the move — a country boy at heart. He loved riding dirt roads at night with the moon shining through the trees, fishing, bonfires, and being outdoors with the people he cared about. His light flickered at times, and he didn’t always see the beauty in himself the way others did, but he was deeply loved.
In the months before his passing, Jon survived a serious accident that left him facing a long recovery and ongoing pain. His resilience amazed everyone around him, and his mom often joked that he was “a cat with 99 lives.” He fought through surgeries, setbacks, and challenges with the same stubborn spirit that defined him.
Jon passed away suddenly in May 2023 from accidental fentanyl poisoning after taking what he believed was pain medication. His loss was devastating and unimaginable for his family, who had watched him survive so much and continue to push forward.
His mother carries his memory with profound heartbreak, but also with deep gratitude for the years she had with him — years filled with laughter, adventure, and the wild, tender energy that made Jon who he was.
He is loved beyond measure and missed every day.
Topsfield Fire Chief
Some calls stay with you longer than your shift—
but so does the knowledge that you gave someone another chance.
You carry the hard calls, but you also carry the saves.
Both matter.
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Sometimes I think the most magical souls are the most vulnerable to addiction.
Shared by a sister.
My big brother has always been the smartest person in the room: aloof, deeply feeling, with quirks people find magnetic. He introduced me to music, trivia, and an openness to all kinds of people. He expanded my world.
Then alcoholism took over.
Maybe he was self‑medicating, genetically predisposed, or both. When addiction was in charge, I missed him while he was still alive.
I remember being called home from college because my parents couldn’t navigate the darkness; the fear when his grad school friend said he would die drinking if we didn’t intervene; and the hope that came with every treatment program, followed by heartbreak when it wasn’t enough.
I remember my sister finding him after nine days missing, barely alive. I remember my father discovering him hiding in a closet with his vodka, consumed by shame. And I remember the moment I knew our whole family had to change: a Sunday morning, my children exploring his drum set and comics while he was already drunk before 10 a.m.
‘Learn to Cope’ taught my parents that love without boundaries was feeding the illness. We aligned for the final intervention with letters, truth, and conviction.
A court date became a turning point. Faced with jail or treatment, he humbly chose treatment. Even then, addiction fought back. Before the flight, we stopped for two drinks to tide him over, and I saw the devil in his eyes as he sneered, “Now I want more.”
But he found his bottom, or felt our solidarity, or met his match at that long‑term facility. The program worked. Recovery, one day at a time.
Today, he has been sober for sixteen years.
His heart has healed. His family is amazing. His body keeps fighting. Love keeps winning.
And his magical soul is intact again.
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In Recovery
At 17, my dad’s alcoholism took away my home and my sense of security. I suddenly had to figure out how to survive in a scary world without the safety and protection every child deserves.
Years later, alcohol became my way of coping too.
At 32, I chose recovery.
Today, I own my first home,
I’m pursuing my PhD, and I’ve built a life I genuinely love.
My story isn’t about everything I lost.
It’s about everything I
built after I thought I had lost it all.
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In Recovery
I was just tired.
Tired of surviving. Tired of disappointing myself. Tired of waking up promising I would do things different, only to end up right back in the same place.So I quit drinking.
For a while, sobriety became my revenge tour.My confidence grew. I got stronger. I accomplished things. I built a business, communities, and opportunities to empower others. I wanted to prove to myself & probably everyone else that change was possible.
But underneath that confidence, I was angry.
My nervous system was on fire. I was sober but still in survival mode. I tried to control everything. I looked strong while carrying resentment, fear, shame, and an exhausting need to prove myself to a world I felt was watching my every move.
And God? I reached for Him only when I needed mercy or relief. I hadn’t learned trust.
Removing alcohol became the easy part.Living a life of quality and peace came much later.
I found AA.
I learned surrender isn’t weakness.
Accountability isn’t punishment.
Making amends is different from carrying shame.
I can pause instead of react.
Pray instead of control.
Serve instead of asking, “What about me?”
My strength looks different now. It’s quieter. Asking for help. Keeping promises to myself. Taking care of my body. Protecting my peace without punishing others. Showing up for another woman who is where I once was. And building a relationship with God rooted in gratitude, not emergencies.
Today, recovery is learning how to live.
One different decision.
One percent, every day.“How can I be my strongest self?”And then, “How can I help someone else find theirs?”
Because we rise together.
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1967-2023
Shared by a wife
David was part of my life for ten years, and from the moment we met in 2013,
I loved him deeply.
Beneath his struggles with addiction was a kind, funny, intelligent man with a huge heart. Our journey together was filled with love, hope, heartbreak, and the painful reality of addiction. Loving someone who struggles with addiction is incredibly complicated. There were moments of happiness and laughter, but also fear, uncertainty, and countless sleepless nights.
I spent years encouraging David to seek help, supporting him through treatment and recovery attempts, and holding on to the hope that one day he would find lasting peace from the disease that consumed so much of his life.
In November 2023, David lost his battle with addiction. Losing him shattered my world, but it also opened my eyes to the devastating impact addiction has not only on the person suffering but on everyone who loves them. Despite everything we endured, my love for David never disappeared. He remains in my heart and in my thoughts every single day.
Writing my memoir, Beautiful Ruin: My Life Loving an Addict, became part of my healing journey. Over three years, I poured my grief, love, anger, and memories onto the pages. The book tells the story of our relationship, the devastating impact addiction had on our lives, and the lessons I learned about resilience, forgiveness, and unconditional love. My hope is that by sharing our story, others who have loved someone battling addiction will feel less alone.
Addiction does not define a person’s worth, and behind every struggle is a human being who is deeply loved and profoundly missed. Although David is gone, his memory lives on in my heart, in my writing, and in the hope that
our story might help someone else find strength and healing in their own journey.
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First responder & recovery advocate
I believe recovery is possible for everyone.
As a trauma-informed nurse and recovery advocate I provide a safe, supportive environment where women can find stability, accountability, and hope as they rebuild their lives.
Early in my nursing career, I had the opportunity to participate in a medical missionary trip to Africa. It was an extraordinary and transformative experience, one that allowed me to make a meaningful impact in the lives of others while also nurturing my own personal growth. That is where my vision first took root. I spent years looking inwards. I allowed people who had Gods values pour into my life year and year. Then I started doing the work-Forgiveness is were I started.
Now as a trauma-informed nurse specializing in mental health, substance use, and eating disorders,
I’ve found deep fulfillment in helping others heal. Through my nursing career, I noticed a recurring barrier to recovery: the lack of affordable, stable, supportive housing. I was drawn to sober living/transitional housing because of its powerful intersection of advocacy, problem-solving, and human connection.
Running a sober home (which is a type of transitional housing) allows me to bridge the gap in care, ensure individuals receive the ongoing support they need, and influence systems in ways that promote dignity, independence, and well-being.
From my experience in behavioral health, I’ve seen firsthand how housing plays a crucial role in making mental health and substance abuse treatment more accessible and effective.
Through Renew Co Living, I am committed to providing an environment that is safe, comprehensive, compassionate & aligned with each individual’s unique goals.
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Addiction
Shared by a daughter
Addiction has taken so many people from me, but also given me so much.
I myself feel fortunate to not be the one with this horrible disease. But I have been affected by it throughout my life.
Losing my first long term boyfriend in my 20’s, my Dad at only 53,
and my Ex-husband in 2023 to this horrible disease,
I felt that all of their lives
were taken way too soon.
But in each relationship I gained more and after all of the stages of grief I slowly came back to myself.
I dove deeper into my own self development.
I found myself again within each loss.
I learned so much more each time about the disease.
I stopped blaming myself for not doing enough or good enough to be able to get them to stop. I carry with me on my heart each of their stories.
These stories of their life living with addiction has poured into my life with compassion, perseverance, love, self care and motivation.
These stories are a part of me now.
I carry them within my heart. They have helped me grow into the better human being I am today.
Had it not been for all of these twists and turns within my life,
I would not be the person
I am today and not have met my husband.
Mentor
Esthetic Teacher
Life Coach
Barre and Yoga Teacher
Women’s self development & Retreat Leader.
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Our grandmothers weren’t talking about addiction, but we are.
It comes with grief & pain.
And in the many ways that addiction has touched my life,
I choose love, growth and sobriety on my cycle breaking journey.
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