And now, his matter-of-fact openness with his past struggles denies the opportunity for stigma to step in. He shares his past with humility and earnestness that demands one’s absolute attention.
Greg grew up the fourth of five children in what he describes as a typical suburban family in Sacramento. It was not until he was older that he realized his mother was an alcoholic, and his father, consumed by his work, rarely had time for Greg. After his parents divorced, he always yearned for a close relationship with his father—something he carried into adulthood.
After a devasting rollover car accident, Greg was prescribed painkiller medication to help with his excruciating pain.
“I ended up addicted to heavy doses of opioid pain medications for twelve years,” Greg recalled. “It wasn’t until later that I was able to stabilize my chronic pain and get myself off the medications.”
And after a brutal divorce from his first wife, Greg again found himself turning to substances for comfort.
“I masked and escaped my past so hard that I became addicted to meth at 55 years old,” Greg said. “I was absolutely alone and, in the darkness, fighting with my demons.”
Fortunately, Greg found support from his faith and his family.
“One of my favorite Bible verses is Jeremiah 29:11:
‘For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not harm you, plan to give you a hope and a future.’
So, I reached out to my brother and found my first sober living home in Phoenix,” Greg said. “I stayed there six months, then helped my brother open his first sober living home in San Diego.”
Shortly thereafter, he returned to Sacramento. He got connected with the recovery community in Sacramento, and things were looking up for Greg.
“I got involved in my new fiancé’s respiratory services business, and we grew it into a profitable business,” Greg said. “All was good until the dreaded COVID hit.”
Not only did Greg have to find other ways to make enough money to survive, but many of his recovery meetings also shut down entirely, cutting him off from his network of support.
“I went on a long, lonely, and dark relapse,” Greg said.
Recovery is a journey, not a destination. And though he’s been on this road before and stumbled along the way, Greg keeps pushing forward. This drive led him back to San Diego again, looking for a fresh start.
His brother-in-law connected him to ECS’ Central East Regional Recovery Center (CERRC), an intensive, outpatient substance use disorder program in City Heights.
“When I returned to San Diego, I aspired to get into a recovery program, build a recovery plan, and work it,” Greg recalled. “I needed a sponsoring agency that could support me, and CERRC was that program.”
But those early days of recovery were challenging for Greg.
“I was trying to heal mentally and physically,” Greg said. “It took me 90 days until things were fleshed out. It was then that I was doing the recovery—and not out of obligation. I looked forward to every day.”
Greg credits his experience with CERRC for helping him on the path toward recovery.
“CERRC took me to the next level,” Greg said. “They gave me a relapse plan and helped me build my goals. They were calming and reassuring, and you don’t get that all the time.”
