We are Voices from the Opioid Crisis—a living archive of raw, honest stories from those touched by addiction, recovery, and loss.
Through these voices, we confront stigma, raise awareness, and build community-driven change.
Explore personal accounts. Share your own. Connect with others. Together, we can turn pain into purpose.
Our signature program, “It’s Not You Until It Is You,” is a powerful interactive presentation that opens eyes and helps communities confront the stigma of substance use disorder. Already reaching schools and communities, it gives students, parents, and leaders the tools to face this crisis with honesty and hope.
On April 15, 2026, I stood at Nassau Community College for my very first public reading of my poem collection, From Mourning To Life. Leading up to the event, I felt a quiet sense of apprehension—unsure of how my words, written from such a deeply personal place, would be received. To begin, I shared a short video and spoke about how the book came into being. As I transitioned into reading the poems,
On April 15, 2026, I stood at Nassau Community College for my very first public reading of my poem collection, From Mourning To Life. Leading up to the event, I felt a quiet sense of apprehension—unsure of how my words, written from such a deeply personal place, would be received. To begin, I shared a short video and spoke about how the book came into being. As I
As her mother I don’t think there will ever be a day that I don’t get that sinking feeling in my stomach and that pain in my heart when I think about her. Tears come so easily now. There are days her life seems like it was a dream and then I remind myself, she was here and she mattered and she was loved. Oh how she was loved.
Thus began a journey of trying to find out what to do for a 16-year-old who is addicted to heroin, and how to find a program to help him recover that was not $50- $100,000.
I remember picking up my year medallion of sobriety and him taking me home and shooting up heroin right next to me. I knew from that point on I lost my father.
