You're in the right place

This may be hard to believe for some who read this, but there is hope.

Hope can be an interesting thing — it can be something that many of us take for granted. Maybe we hope for no traffic on the way to work, or for a new promotion or hope to spend more time with friends and family this year.

​

Socially, over the last couple of years, there has been great discussion about privilege. And while it’s my personal opinion that the word has been weaponized a bit too much (I won’t get into that here), I do realize that even something like hope can come from a place of privilege.

Not in the socioeconomic sense that the word has been used for as of late, but in a simpler sense — that there are many people out there who have either lost hope or are dang near close to it. But if you’re reading this and feeling that way, hope is out there, truly.

​

I got to witness this first-hand in the past couple of weeks. Earlier this month, Tyler Evans and the team at OrilliaMatters shared the story of our addiction recovery program we have started at CrossFit Orillia. Well, this caught the attention of Stacey. (Her name has been changed out of respect to her privacy.) Stacey reached out to share that she was struggling with addiction and was interested in hearing about the program and if it would be helpful.

​

So, she came in and we chatted more in person about the program. Stacey shared that the article resonated with her, but she saved it, rather than acting immediately on it. Prior to that article, Stacey was running low on hope. She thought that the program might be helpful for her, but the lack of hope distorted her thoughts — “What if it’s just another thing I’ll screw up?”

But hope prevailed.

​

Stacey started our program, and at the end of the session, a real, genuine smile was there. There was a light in her eyes that wasn’t there when we first chatted. But this isn’t to pat myself or this program on the back — it’s to show how hope can be restored, often only through hard work.

The program is physical in nature. Stacey got her butt kicked. But she loved every minute of it. She finished the session proud of her efforts — proud that she never quit. She felt empowered by her effort that day.

You know what empowerment is? It’s the gateway to hope.

In CrossFit, we have a saying: “Our needs differ by degree, not by kind.” This is used in the physiological sense. An athlete needs to squat to get stronger to win the game. Our grandparents need to squat to hold onto their independence.

​

But every day in a CrossFit gym, people complete physically demanding tasks. At the completion of that class, they feel empowered, ready to take on the world. They have hope. Our need for hope differs by degree, but certainly not by kind.

​

It’s my hypothesis that if we restore hope to someone struggling with addiction or mental health issues, we help them believe in themselves again. But it can’t come from a place of privilege. It can only be built through empowerment. We help those in despair build belief in themselves again. It’s hard work. It’s not for everyone. But it’s working.

So, if you’re reading this and this resonates with you, let me repeat: There is hope. If you’re nervous about starting something scary, you have help. Don’t wait.

​

I have hope in the progress we’ve made in a short time in getting the word out about this program. Orillia is a community that works together — teamwork makes the dream work. Tyler wrote the article, and people have inquired about how they can help. We can, as a community, reduce the stigma surrounding substance use disorder and realize we’re all in this together. We have the ability as a community to lead the way for the rest of the province.

​

Still breathing heavily, sweat glistening from her forehead as she put on her boots, Stacey looked up at me and said, “See you Friday,” with a smile.

​

And there was hope in her eyes.