The story of Chris: Rainbows in Recovery

Closing out our January “Rainbows in Recovery” series is the deeply moving story of Chris—a journey through identity, addiction, despair, and ultimately, enduring hope.Growing up in Long Beach, New York, Chris had what appeared to be an ordinary, middle-class upbringing. Yet from early childhood, compulsion shaped his inner world—attention was his first drug, and whatever he did, he did obsessively. At around thirteen, on a school trip, he got high for the first time. Unlike other experiences, drugs and alcohol did not let go of him. By sixteen, he was already in rehab, drinking beers on the way to school, getting high in the woods instead of going to class, and watching his life quietly unravel.In high school, Chris struggled deeply with relationships and sexuality, disappointed that intimacy and connection were not what he had imagined they would be. Immersed in psychedelic culture and identifying as a Deadhead, he followed Jerry Garcia across shows, searching for belonging and meaning. At the same time, a close friendship forced him to confront feelings he did not yet understand. When he realized he might be gay, in a time with no language, no support, and no visible safety, the weight of shame and fear became unbearable. Popular culture offered only cruelty, and when he came out to friends, he found himself rejected—alone, heartbroken, and using more intensely to drown out the pain.Depression took hold for years. By senior year, Chris was left behind, unable to graduate with his peers. He entered college only to repeat the cycle of daily using, isolation, and despair. Eventually, his solution to emotional pain was drugs, and his solution to wanting to die became suicide. After a failed attempt, he entered a day program at nineteen, forced to leave school and return to what felt like the prison of his childhood bedroom. He attended meetings not out of belief, but because he had nowhere else to go—watching everyone his age move forward while he stood still.Chris asked to attend a gay meeting, and his father—desperate only for his son to survive—took him. In early recovery, Chris continued to use, spending the small amounts of money his father gave him for fellowship on drugs after meetings. He could not imagine working steps or believing in a Higher Power. What kept him coming back was persistence, attraction, and eventually, a desire to be different. A crush in the rooms gave him his first motivation to stay clean, but it was not enough—until one day, standing alone on a beach, he finally asked God for help.In that moment of surrender, Chris describes turning around and seeing life differently—as if the doors of the hell he had been living in were suddenly unlocked. He chose to walk toward recovery. After building four and a half years clean, a lack of vigilance led him back out, and the consequences were swift and devastating. Psychosis returned, and once again he was brought to his knees. This time, when Chris crawled back into the rooms, he returned with a single focus—not to be liked or understood, but to do whatever it took to stay cleanToday, Chris has over 20 years clean and participates in multiple fellowships that address the many expressions of his disease. Though he still lives with depression and thoughts of suicide, he is no longer alone with them. The tools of recovery, connection, and service have given him a way to live—one grounded in honesty, resilience, and compassion. Chris’s story stands as a powerful reminder that recovery does not erase struggle, but it does make life possible, meaningful, and worth staying for—one day at a time.