10/15/2026
"Addiction runs through my family. For a long time, I thought it was a curse. I thought, “I’m next in line. I won’t be able to break that chain.”
Today, I know that isn’t true.
My challenges started in my teenage years. I was experimenting with alcohol at 12 or 13, and I could never stop at one drink. When I lost my father to cancer at 16, alcohol became a way to numb what I was feeling. For a while, it felt like a warm blanket - until it didn't.
Eventually, I found myself in a really dark place. I thought I would be better off not being here. It felt like I was at the bottom of a very deep well. I had thoughts of su***de and plans in place, but at that moment, my roommate opened my door.
He checked in. He got me help.
I don’t know if I would be here without that moment of connection.
At the hospital, one psychiatric nurse was incredibly kind to me. She didn’t try to pull me out of the well. She came down the ladder and sat in it with me. For the first time, I began to feel like I wasn’t alone.
But that wasn’t the moment everything suddenly changed.
I continued drinking for months afterward.
My recovery was a culmination of hospital visits, breakups, difficult experiences and people who continued to show up along the way. Eventually, I came to a fork in the road. I realized that if I kept going the way I was going, I might not have a future. Or I could choose life.
I decided I wanted to choose life.
I’ve now been in recovery for eight or 10 years — I don’t count it by the day. I went on to study and work at CAMH, and today I’m a nurse practitioner in a RAAM Clinic, supporting people experiencing challenges with substance use.
Recovery isn’t linear. Returning to old behaviours doesn’t mean hope is gone.
Sometimes hope is a roommate opening a door.
Sometimes it’s a nurse willing to sit with you in the well.
Sometimes it’s another chance to choose life.
There is always hope for people in recovery. Sometimes, a simple moment of connection can make all the difference." - Adam McInnis
