Steve Stone: 2025 Vigil Recovery Testimonial

My sobriety began on May 5th, 2016, a day I don’t actually remember. The night before,
I overdosed at my parents’ home, on what I thought was heroin. The overdose left me
unable to form new memories for several days. I remember waking up confused, a
clipboard beside me explaining what had happened, and friends and family visiting.
What I remember most, though, was the fear. And even then, I knew fear alone wouldn’t
keep me sober for long.

I grew up in Stamford in a loving, upper-class family. My parents have been happily
married for over forty years, and my older brother has always been grounded and
successful. From the outside, everything looked ideal. But by middle school, I was
struggling with anxiety and depression that I didn’t know how to talk about. When I got
drunk for the first time at thirteen, I felt relief—like I’d finally found an off-switch for my
thoughts. That feeling became my solution. By high school, I was drinking and
experimenting regularly, and by the time I reached college, substances were running the
show.

Despite a declining GPA, I somehow made it through high school and into college,
where my addiction continued to progress. I told myself I was fine, but everyone who
cared about me could see I wasn’t. I spent more time chasing a feeling than building a
future. By age twenty, I was using something every day. In 2010, my family staged an
intervention and sent me to treatment. I was furious, convinced they were overreacting,
but now I know it was one of the most loving things they could have done. That program
introduced me to people who understood me and showed me that recovery was
possible.

I didn’t stay sober. Over the next few years, I progressed from pills to intravenous
heroin. My parents watched helplessly as I lied, stole, and destroyed every bit of trust
we had. They kept hoping the real me would come back. I kept running further away.

In 2013, I went to detox again—this time, something was different. My father’s
colleague, a man sixteen years sober, took me to my first 12-step meeting. He
introduced me around, told me to keep coming back, and helped me find other
meetings. That act of kindness changed my life. For a while, I stayed sober and began
to rebuild, but I still had lessons to learn. Over the following years, I relapsed again and
again, until what I pray was my last relapse in April 2016, following 11 months of
sobriety. I was convinced I couldn’t change—but something inside me shifted. I finally
stopped fighting and became willing to do whatever it took.

When I returned to recovery, I did it differently. I got honest. I asked for help. My sponsor
told me something I still live by: “You don’t have to figure this out alone. Just do what the
people before you did.” I took that to heart. I leaned on my support network, went to
meetings, and stayed accountable. Slowly, things began to change.

Since that day in 2016, countless miracles have unfolded. I rebuilt broken relationships,
made amends, and earned back my family’s trust. The pain I caused them turned into a
shared gratitude for the present. I no longer run from myself or from life. Chaos has
been replaced with peace and purpose.

Today, I work professionally in the recovery field, helping others climb out of the same
pit I once lived in. I get to sit with families who feel hopeless and tell them that I once sat
in their son’s seat—and that recovery is real. I’ve watched hundreds of people
transform, each one a reminder of why I do this work.

Recovery has given me more than sobriety—it’s given me a life. I’ve found real
friendships, faith, and a sense of direction I never had before. I’ve built a future I once
believed was impossible. I’m married to the most incredible woman in the world, and
together we’re starting a family. The demons that used to run my life don’t have a voice
anymore.

I share my story not to brag, but to remind anyone struggling that there is hope.
Recovery isn’t easy, and it doesn’t happen alone, but it’s possible for anyone. If you or
someone you love is struggling, please know you’re not alone. There are people who
care and want nothing more than to help.

If I can do it, anyone can.