My recovery journey began in 2002. I was 29, approaching 30, and I had never held a job. Selling drugs had become my lifestyle; it was all I knew. I didn’t believe I deserved good things. I feared failure, but I feared success too. With the police in Dunedin, New Zealand, closing in, I knew something had to change.
I entered rehabilitation. It was the beginning of learning to live differently.
In early recovery, the hardest thing was leaving behind the only identity I’d known. It felt almost like divorcing myself. I was lonely, unsure how to trust myself and uncertain whether to trust the process. I relapsed several times. Thankfully, Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous gave me a community I could return to and people with whom I could be honest. That belonging helped me keep going.
Gradually, I began to imagine a different life. I studied and worked toward becoming a social worker, mental health support worker and alcohol and drug practitioner. As I developed self-respect and allowed myself to become teachable, things I had never thought possible began to happen.
One of those things was coming home to my family.
My two youngest brothers had grown up in foster care. There had been a time when authorities considered me a bad influence, and we were kept apart. Eventually, I became their primary caregiver. I was their brother, but in many ways a surrogate father too. I leased a home and brought my mother and brothers together under one roof.
In my 30s, I experienced a depth of family love I hadn’t known before. We also faced painful times. My older brother became seriously ill with diabetes. We watched his health deteriorate, including amputations, and eventually faced his death.
Recovery allowed me to be there: to listen, communicate, offer love and stand beside my family through his suffering. It was very different from losing my sister to a heroin overdose years earlier, when I was still using, even at her funeral. Recovery didn’t take away grief. It gave me a way to remain present through it.
After the Christchurch earthquakes devastated our city, my mother told me it was time to spread my wings. I still have the card she gave me. I’d learned to surf in recovery and visited Bali; the waves and the freedom had stayed with me.
Eventually, I arrived there with $2,000, a scooter, hope and faith, and a growing belief that I was worth more than the life I’d left behind.
There were further difficult lessons. About 10 years after beginning recovery, while working as a head counselor at a rehabilitation center in Bali, I had a one-night relapse.
I struggled with the gossip and criticism that followed. I also had to learn that living in anger and resentment would keep me stuck. In time, I chose forgiveness and acceptance, for myself and for those around me.
For years, anonymous fellowships had given me a foundation, and I remain deeply grateful for them. Over time, though, I wanted to help make recovery more visible beyond those rooms. I wanted people who were struggling to see others living differently and know that help was possible.
In 2018, I began Movement of Recovery. During approximately two months traveling across Australia, I filmed short “Faces of Recovery” videos. People shared their experience, strength and hope. The purpose was simple: to help others see that they need not fear recovery.
I later spent around a year and a half traveling through Indonesia, covering approximately 36,000 kilometers, including Java and Sumatra. Visiting rehabilitation centers and listening to people’s stories helped broaden my understanding of recovery beyond my own experience.
I wanted our recovery gatherings to welcome people from different pathways, including 12-step fellowships, harm reduction and SMART Recovery. That view met with disagreement; some people described what I was doing as irrational or crazy. I learned that bringing people together also meant being willing to hear disagreement and keep working toward inclusion.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, that community work took on another form. We helped distribute food to beach workers who had lost their income and to villages and other communities in need. Working alongside local organizations widened our connections beyond addiction recovery. That collective effort became Bali Bersama Bisa, with Movement of Recovery continuing as its addiction- and recovery-focused arm.
As a Western co-founder, I recognize that I am a guest in Indonesia. My responsibility is to listen, respect local beliefs and traditions, and work alongside Indonesian people as they find and use their own voices.
My understanding of recovery keeps growing. At first, honesty meant learning not to lie to other people. Later, it meant recognizing my own excuses and being willing to change. Today, it also means remembering how much I owe to others: my communities, sponsors, sponsees and the people who believed in me before I could believe in myself.
My sponsor once asked me to write a five-year wish list. He told me I had a chance to surpass it if I stayed committed to the program.
He was right.
Today, I have a beautiful wife with an enormous heart and a daughter whom I’m about to pick up from school. I get to be a husband, a father and someone who can contribute to the community around me. None of that was imaginable to the person I was in 2002.
A grateful addict … that’s me.
By Contributor: Nev Doidge, holisticrecoverybali.com
SPEAK OUT! SPEAK LOUD! at The Sober Curator is a celebration of authentic voices in recovery—echoing Madonna’s call to “Express yourself!” Here, readers and contributors take the spotlight, sharing transformative sobriety journeys, creative talents, and new avenues of self-expression discovered along the way. Through videos, poems, art, essays, opinion pieces, and music, we break the silence that often surrounds addiction, replacing it with connection, hope, and inspiration.
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FAMILY RESOURCE GUIDE: Families play a pivotal role in both the path to and through recovery. Research shows that individuals with strong family support have significantly better outcomes, including higher rates of sustained sobriety and improved mental well-being.
According to SAMHSA, people in recovery who receive active support from family members are twice as likely to remain sober and successfully engage with treatment plans. In fact:
- Recovery programs with family involvement see over 60% higher adherence to treatment protocols.
- Nearly 90% of people in recovery credit family or caretaker emotional support as a significant factor in their continued sobriety.
- Active family engagement reduces relapse risk, helps establish healthy routines, and strengthens motivation and accountability.
Why Family Support Matters:
- Reduces stigma & isolation – Acceptance and understanding foster belonging.
- Boosts mental well-being – Emotional support can help prevent or manage co-occurring mental health issues.
- Promotes healthy lifestyles – Families encourage adherence to recovery plans and positive daily habits.
- Builds accountability – Ongoing connection provides motivation and stability.
When families commit to learning about addiction, joining support groups, and actively participating in recovery, their involvement becomes transformative—not just supportive. Recovery is a collective journey, and compassionate, informed family engagement can be the foundation for lasting change.
Additional Resources:
- Alcohol & Substance Use Disorder Guide
- Nonprofit Recovery Resource Guide
- Family Resource Guide
- LGBTQ+ Recovery Resource Guide
- Glossary of Addiction & Recovery Terms
- Recovery Stories
- Break Free Foundation – Scholarships for those unable to afford inpatient treatment
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