Sarah had spent years drifting through treatment centers, cycling from one program to the next. The therapy groups all felt the same—impersonal, repetitive, and often demeaning. “It was like being punished,” she said. “Like I was always being told I was doing something wrong.” The sessions felt endless, sometimes even hostile, and none of it seemed to help. Over time, her sense of isolation deepened. She would leave each place more discouraged, and usually end up back on the streets.
When Sarah arrived at ASC, it felt no different at first. The days were hard, full of resistance and struggle. She didn’t trust anyone. There were moments of substance use and continued withdrawal. But something shifted—slowly, gently—because of what was outside.
She began spending time in the garden and then started helping with the chickens in the aviary therapy program. It wasn’t framed as treatment. It felt like work, something real. “The chickens were funny,” she said with a quiet smile. “I can’t even remember the last time I laughed like that.”
Caring for the animals gave Sarah something she hadn’t felt in years: a sense of responsibility and belonging. Other people noticed. They appreciated what she did. That recognition—simple, human—helped her begin to show up for other things too. She started joining groups not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
Eventually, Sarah began taking her medication again. She still wasn’t sure she needed it, but she realized it helped her stay present, stay connected. “It wasn’t really the therapy that changed things,” she said. “It was being able to work, having something to do, and being part of a place where I mattered. It was something outside of myself that brought me back.”
Sarah has now stayed off the streets, stayed consistent with her medication, and built a kind of life she never expected to have again. “Treatment is necessary, I guess,” she said, looking around at the garden she now helps run. “But being part of something bigger—that’s what made the difference.”
