Submitted by a graduate of the new Muriel Wright SUTS program in Santa Clara, CA. His real name was changed to “Luke” in the story for privacy purposes. He successfully completed his treatment during the last week of April.

I only saw my daughter every other Christmas for the last six years and just a couple of days in-between. I was busy getting caught up in my addiction. I spent day in and day out chasing money, dope, and booty (in that order). Crystal meth lied to me. It took my morals and values and pushed them down with all of the emotions that I was trying to avoid. I wasn’t happy. I was depressed. My meth habit made me feel better. I felt like I had a purpose. I even felt like what I was doing was getting me closer to my goal, which was to have my family back. In actuality, it was backfiring. The harder I tried, the more meth I used, and I was getting further and further away from my goal. Meth was lying to me. It was putting a fake screen over my eyes and masking me from the truth. I was fooled. Even though I realized this, I continued to go back to the drug.

I missed my daughter’s 8th grade graduation where she won the biggest award of the year. Her whole extended family was there except for her mother and father. I wasn’t there to cheer for my daughter’s great accomplishment. My aunts and uncles asked about me and my folks said they hadn’t seen me in months. My daughter was the only one out of the group of 8th grade graduates that didn’t have a mother or father in attendance.

Up until I joined this program, I stopped calling her because I didn’t want to make promises that I couldn’t keep or respond to her questions because I had no good answers. To sum it up, Brooke was missing a mother and a father and all she really wanted was to be someone’s daughter. She had always been a daddy’s girl without a dad. I wanted to be a father to her but I couldn’t do it without getting help first.

I will ask: What is life worth? If you could give a little girl her father back, how far would you be willing to go? Turning an old facility into a drug rehab center costs a truck load of money. Giving it a complete makeover, making it beautiful and comforting so that recovering addicts would feel at home. Hiring countless employees to run the program. Countless hours in groups and behind the scenes. Money for food, laundry, clothes, Netflix, internet, hygiene, transportation, payroll, utilities, supplies, bills, printouts, handouts, drug tests, nurses, cooks, peers, directors, secretaries, maids, and groundskeepers. All of the help, all of the love, all of the resources, and all of the knowledge everyone on payroll has contributed is not because they have to, but because they want to. Time, effort, long hours, heartbreak, disappointments, obstacles, good times, bad times, sad times, and everything. Everything it takes to make a program a success is put in 100% of the time.

Is all of this worth it if only one man became reunited with his daughter? I’m not saying I’m the only stud to come through here by any means, but if one little girl got her dad back, would it be worth it? Let’s find out.

“Luke” picks up his phone and calls his daughter. When she answers, he puts his phone on speaker so that the whole group can hear.

He asks his daughter, “Hi honey, can you tell us, was it worth it?”

His daughter replies, “Yes, it was all definitely worth it. Thank you for everything!”

Amid tears and smiles, the group breaks out in applause as Luke finishes the call with his daughter. Luke successfully completed treatment after being at Muriel Wright for 90 days. It was his first time in a treatment program.

What Makes a Recovery Hero?

Recovery heroes are members at ɫ��ɫ programs who have made progress in their personal recovery journeys — and want to share their stories.

Every journey is unique — and progress can come in many different forms. These heroes share their stories, to offer a little bit of hope, inspiration, and encouragement to other who are on the path as well.