dangerously thin on the ground. PJ, whose own recovery has previously been documented in these pink pages, told me: “Rehab is not what we are and it’s important that people know the difference. Rehab is a strict regime – you’re in groups, in therapy all day, no phone. Then there’s recovery houses where you’re basically just left. A key worker will come and see you for an hour a week and that’s it. We wanted to be something in the middle of those two.” And that means offering more support, a different kind of support? “Yeah, so people have got sobriety behind them when they come to us, they know the landscape of the recovery world and what it requires of them. They’ve got their own free time, but we offer a mini programme to open them up to other things. Saying to people, ‘You’ve worked hard to get clean and sober, but what for? To do what?’” Structured around similar elements to those PJ himself leant on, the programme sees art and culture, music and sport as an integral part of recovery. For those who’ve previously felt excluded by their addiction – or perhaps more honestly, those who used addiction to exclude themselves – there is an exposure to new ideas, new thoughts, new ways for growth while also reconnecting with the familiar. New priorities in life. The cultural stream of the programme at the house presents opportunities for residents to engage with the wider community, through workshops, theatre and gallery visits, and strong links between Damien John Kelly House and Liverpool’s cultural sector. Creativity is actively encouraged in all, in whatever shape or form that might be. It is a powerful tool in recovery and can bring about profound changes in the way people see themselves and their future. It brings hope through expression and honesty, which is the true keystone of recovery from addiction. Art heals. Sam is a photographer, artist, writer and – since he put addiction behind him and entered Damien John Kelly House – is now a filmmaker. When we first met, he spoke of himself as Sam the addict. Sam the drunk. “Fucked Sam” as he put it. “Addiction is the death of self, the death of whoever you thought you were,” he says. “You’ve built this thing which isn’t you. When I came here I didn’t know who I was or what I was. Didn’t know who my mates were. I didn’t know anything. The thing about this house and this programme is it’s allowed me to find personal meaning. I’ve heard it before from people, they’ve said the same, it’s allowed them to find the true them.” Creativity was always in him; collage, photography, writing all coming together as a single escape route which he calls his ‘practice’. Each element inspiring the others. Even in the depths of his addiction, he’d still create. “It were fuckin’ sporadic, like,” he says with a strong South Yorkshire inflection. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to get where I wanted to be with it if I kept getting fucked. I used to joke about it… but I kept getting fucked.” Across the room from Sam, another resident, Wayne, talks through his experiences of the programme at the house. He’s found a new priority, a new way to the same personal meaning Sam spoke of. “I was supposed to be starting rehearsals for a play at the Epstein Theatre before the first lockdown,” he begins. “I first came to the house in July [2019] and by November I’d done two shows, in Edge Hill and The Unity Theatre, with Truth To Power Café, it was great.” “People in Liverpool have some kind of addiction story in their family. Our job here is to create recovery stories” From there, with eyes opened anew to the wealth of creative possibility recovery brings, Wayne paid a visit to an open night, again at The Unity. “It’s a new thing, a 20-week course. I had to apply and do an audition, but I was accepted. There was only eight of us who were accepted out of two hundred, then lockdown happened…” “We were working with directors, actors,” he continues, “they said they saw something in me. I got such a lot out of it, though, it was amazing. I’ve started writing, I’ve got things in mind, get some funding. Now I just want to grab it with both hands. For me it’s connection and just not saying no to these things. That’s what being here has given me.” Recovery stories, tales of creativity, community, regrowth. A future borne of honesty, acceptance and willing at Damien John Kelly House. As Jacquie puts it, “We know that people in Liverpool have some kind of addiction story in their family; addiction is rife in our communities. We’ve all got addiction stories. Our job here is to create recovery stories.” And the people of Wavertree are now proud to be neighbours. ! Words: Paul Fitzgerald / @NothingvilleM Photography: Sam Batley / @sambatley @HomesVitality 36
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