I’ve made my share of mistakes. I’ve had victories, gotten lucky, and had what I’d consider to be a typical life for a guy into his sixth decade on the planet.
As I sit here today, two epiphanies are my guideposts.
Epiphany #1: In 2009, newly divorced and still a counseling intern, I found myself laid off from a job. That resulted in financial and personal distress, and though I have never doubted my decision to come into the counseling field, I didn’t know which direction to take.
In the course of one week, an uncanny thing recurred: The phrase “halfway house” kept popping up. It was in a book by Dr. Drew Pinsky I was reading at the time. It was in magazine articles I read, television shows I watched, and seemingly appearing from every direction. I consider myself to be a good observer in general, and this phrase was getting my attention.
If you don’t know, what we often call a halfway house is more commonly known in my field as transitional living. Specifically, it’s the sort of facility where recovering drug and alcohol addicts live post-treatment but before re-entering independent life. It can look like a private residence in an unremarkable neighborhood.
The icing on the cake was when the cable installer came to my new apartment, and after introductions, just as he dove into his work, he said over his shoulder to me, “I’ve got a brother in a halfway house.” It was out of the blue, and upon hearing those words, I looked at the ceiling, generally towards a higher power, and thought, OK, you’re doing something. I don’t know what, but I suppose it’s about a halfway house.
I took a moment to think about what to do:
A halfway house is a building.
I should look into what it would take to own one.
Who can I call?
I knew an amazing, beautiful real estate agent named Renee. I called her to ask if we could consult over coffee.
I didn’t get the halfway house, but two years later we got married.
Epiphany #2: It’s now, simple as that. It’s been 16 years, but once again I have that feeling like something bigger than I is at work. A PLACE community is growing and becoming more cohesive daily. Media attention continues, hurting parents connect, and I’m in the middle doing what I can to facilitate this growth and be the person PLACE needs at the helm. This epiphany is you, it’s me, and it’s every hurting parent in a meeting. Thank you for being part of this.
