Mustering the Courage to Change
By Jeremiah Gardner
Sometimes you have to give up things you covet to get what you need and want most.
As a person in long-term recovery from substance use disorder, I know that well. But it’s hard.
Change is uncomfortable. Big change is terrifying.
And so it is for me as I take the leap of giving up a dream job.
Soon, I will no longer be the director of communications and public affairs for the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation — an identity I have embodied and a role I have cherished for several years.
Instead, I will just be a dad, husband and guy in recovery. After years of overindulging in work (easy to do when you love it), I’m ready to take a summer off — maybe a little more than a summer.
While making a change to “focus on myself and my family” can be a skepticism-inducing cliche in some circles, that’s precisely what I’m doing.
In recent months, I’ve come to realize that I’m ready to move on to something new and freshly stimulating and, at the same time, that I need a break. On top of that, my twins turn 11 this spring and are entering one of their last summers of Little League and childhood innocence. It’s the perfect time to have more time.
As excited as I am, this is difficult because I love the place I work, my colleagues, and the people we serve. It’s always been much more than a job. For 75 years and counting, Hazelden Betty Ford has been “at the very center of addiction recovery — breaking through stigma, transforming care and saving lives,” as the website accurately says. I truly believe it’s the best place on Earth to get substance use and mental health care — and becoming a greater force of healing and hope every day under the leadership of CEO Dr. Joe Lee and others, including my exceptional boss Emily Piper and William C. Moyers — all good friends and mentors. To be part of it for any length of time — and to work with outstanding people like Samantha Moy-Gottfried, my closest colleague among so many I admire — has been an incredible privilege.
And yet seasons change. Our personal rhythms change. Our wants and needs change.
As my friend Tommy Rosen says, sometimes we are called to a new, more holistic stage of recovery: Recovery 2.0, as he says. For me, that resonates. Indeed, the overwhelming ambition right now is to refocus on my health (body, mind, spirit) and immerse myself in family, friends and creative passions.
It’s definitely scary to recalibrate in this way. It’s also bittersweet — I’ve had waves of nostalgia wash over me because it’s been such an incredibly rewarding run. It’s also a relief to know I’m following my gut and can muster the courage — and exercise the freedom — to change yet again.
Gratitude
I can’t possibly list all the amazing opportunities I’ve had over the past dozen years. From testifying before Congress to speaking at the National Mall to honoring Betty Ford at the White House to helping organize recovery-oriented music festivals, rallies and tailgate parties to bearing witness to countless recovery stories — I’ve gotten to do it all.
As a writer, interviewer and fellow human being, I truly love — at my deepest core — capturing the essence of a person’s story in a way that rings true to them. Every person and story is riveting to me. And every person deserves to have their story captured and heard. Just as rewarding, if not more, is helping a single person start down a recovery path or light up about their own potential to advocate for others or pursue a career helping others. To inspire is to be inspired, and it has been an honor to see and experience that over and over at Hazelden Betty Ford.
Recovery
A colleague once told me, “Your personal brand is clear — it’s recovery.” (To people who know me more fully, that’s probably limiting. But in the context in which it was shared) I appreciated it and also thought, “Of course it is — what else could it be?” In my view, everyone working in addiction treatment, mental health care and related fields should be recovery-oriented and recovery-branded. It’s the whole point. The goal isn’t simply to diagnose, run therapy groups, prescribe medications and execute business plans. Recovery is the North Star. Always. And it’s been tremendously gratifying to carry an enthusiastic, optimistic spirit of recovery with me throughout all my work at Hazelden Betty Ford and, before that, at the Hazelden Betty Ford Graduate School, where I started my studies in 2011.
Whatever emerges for me next — back at Hazelden Betty Ford someday, elsewhere in the field, or in an entirely different space — recovery will continue to be my North Star. In fact, it’s why I’m at peace with giving up a dream job to create space for what I want and need more right now.
The way I see it, I’m not leaving Hazelden Betty Ford’s mission. I’m living it.
