Things I’ve Noticed After A Decade Of Working In Addiction Recovery
by Shane Dushack
As I approach my first year as the owner of The Cedar House and my tenth year in the recovery field, I’ve been reflecting on something I’ve had the privilege of witnessing over and over again: people getting sober and rebuilding their lives.
Before The Cedar House, I spent years working in inpatient treatment programs and outdoor therapy settings. Over time, I’ve watched thousands of people attempt recovery. Some struggled. Some relapsed. And many found a path that allowed them to build a life they never thought possible. I’ve met people at very different points in their journey. Some arrived already well on their way to building a life in recovery. Others were just trying to get started. For some, it was their first treatment experience. For others, it was their twentieth. I’ve watched people who seemed like they had everything going for them relapse, and I’ve seen people who struggled at first eventually find solid footing. I’ve gotten close to many of the people I’ve worked with, and unfortunately some have lost their lives to this disease. Early on, I realized something humbling: I couldn’t predict who would make it and who wouldn’t. All I could do was show up each day and try to help as much as I could.
One thing that becomes clear when you observe recovery long enough is that there is no single formula that works for everyone. People recover in different ways. Some immerse themselves in 12-step programs. Others find meaning through therapy, spirituality, service, nature, and community. Most people eventually build a recovery path that reflects who they are and what matters most to them. But there is something else that becomes equally clear.
The people who do well in early recovery tend to follow some very simple fundamentals:
They show up to meetings.
They listen to people who have more experience.
They build structure into their lives.
They stay connected to others in recovery.
They remain honest and open to change.
In the beginning, recovery often doesn’t feel natural. It can feel awkward, unfamiliar, and very uncomfortable. In some ways, early recovery is a little like wearing borrowed clothes. You’re trying on routines, ideas, and ways of living that might feel strange at first. You’re following suggestions from people who seem to know what they’re doing, even if you’re not completely sure it fits you yet.
Just like learning any new skill, there’s a period where you practice the fundamentals before you start improvising. Over time, something interesting begins to happen. People start to grow into their recovery. What once felt foreign begins to feel normal. The routines that once felt forced become habits. The ideas that once felt borrowed become personal beliefs. Eventually, recovery stops feeling like something you’re trying on and starts feeling like something that belongs to you.
The people I’ve seen succeed over the long term tend to balance two important things:
They stay grounded in the basics that support recovery, while also allowing their path to evolve into something personal and meaningful.
Recovery isn’t about perfectly copying someone else’s life, but it also isn’t about reinventing everything from scratch. There is wisdom in listening to those who have walked the path before us. At the same time, the goal isn’t just sobriety. The goal is building a life that actually feels worth living. After watching this process unfold in my own life for many years, I’m continually reminded that recovery is less about finding the perfect formula and more about staying open, staying connected, and always making sure you leave room to grow. And when that happens, people often discover that the life they build in recovery is far better than the one they left behind.
I feel grateful to be able to witness this process every day. Recovery is rarely simple or predictable, but again and again I see people change their lives in ways they once thought were impossible. It usually doesn’t happen all at once. It happens through small decisions made day after day — showing up, staying connected, and continuing to move forward even when it’s hard. Watching that unfold has been one of the greatest privileges of my life, and it continues to remind me why this work matters.
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