A story from a former resident named Mary.
Last May, it was 32 ago that I walked up the front steps of an older, a bit worse for wear house that I had been told was a Gay and Lesbian (the appropriate moniker at the time) recovery home called Stepping Stone. I was very young, very beaten but a little hopeful. I had tried to get sober several months earlier in another recovery home, but had left after being told to “keep my hands off” a woman I had befriended whom the staff was evidently trying to protect from the dangerous and predatory lesbian I apparently was. Filled with typical righteous indignation, I left there and soon was drinking again. Unable to get sober on my own, I was told about Stepping Stone by a friend and decided that if I were going to be able to get sober, this place would probably be my best bet. Of course, I was right. Not only was Stepping Stone a safe, structured, 12-step oriented environment that supported my recovery, it was a warm and welcoming haven that became a home for me and the dozens of others that shared the space with me during the 9 months I stayed there.
I was not able to stop drinking or using by going to meetings or talking to a sponsor. For those of us who struggle with the liquor store or dealer down the street, recovery homes are not just helpful, they can be essential. For me, an LGBTQ supportive environment was also critical. In fact, I believe it is unlikely I would be writing this today if it were not for the support I received those many years ago at Stepping Stone.
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