"When I checked into treatment, I needed a bed out of the cold. What I found was a foundation."

Al M. | Pinnacle Treatment Centers

In my 20s, I used powder cocaine. In my 30s, that turned into freebase cocaine. At one point in my life, I made over $200,000 a year. I held executive-level positions in a powerful union. I traveled first class. I moved in political circles. I had influence. I had status.

And then addiction took it all.

My income dropped. I lost my executive role. I lost my direction. Eventually, I lost my home. I was homeless for months and lived in my car for four of them. I hadn’t paid for my car note in over a year, and it was about to be repossessed. It was cold. That’s what I remember most. The cold.

When I checked into treatment at Pinnacle Treatment Centers on September 12, 2023, at that moment my primary concern wasn’t rebuilding my life - it was getting a bed out of the cold. But something happened there that changed everything.

For the first time in my life, I felt heard. I felt accepted. I felt like someone wasn’t trying to fix me, analyze me, or rewrite my story. There was a lady there who simply listened. That mattered more than I can explain.

As I sat in groups, I began speaking up. I started educating myself about Substance Use Disorder (SUD). I started looking honestly at my life. And for the first time, I began to understand that some of the things I carried weren’t my fault. That realization lifted a weight I didn’t even know I was holding.

There was one woman that made a lasting impact on me. She had lived it. She understood. When she said, “It all comes back,” I wasn’t sure I believed her. But when my life began coming back together piece by piece, I realized she was right.

Without a doubt, Pinnacle gave me the foundation I needed. It gave me structure. It gave me accountability. But most importantly, it gave me acceptance. Through that support, I was able to reconnect with my sister and today I’m proud to be Certified Substance Abuse Counselor.

And that’s what I had wanted my entire life — acceptance. Not solutions. Not lectures. Not judgment. Just acceptance.

In recovery, I realized something about myself: I’m a giver. I always have been. But without boundaries and without purpose, that part of me got exploited. In sobriety, I found a balance, I found peace, and I found my purpose.

Today, I operate sober living homes for men in recovery in Richmond, Virginia. Our mission is simple: To provide a safe, secure environment where a man can find peace.

I don’t heal anyone. That’s God’s job. What I can do is give a man shelter, structure, food, accountability, and love. I can give him a chance to come out of the fog. I have a man who came to me after 18 years incarcerated. He told me this is the longest stretch of his life he hasn’t been in prison or using. I have another man I met living in a garage. Today, he’s my house manager, sober and leading others.

We don’t live in the past in my houses. We don’t live in shame. We stay right where our feet are. We focus on gratitude, discipline, brotherhood, and peace. Because you cannot find peace in chaos. You cannot recover in hostility. And you cannot grow where you are judged.

These men don’t just need sobriety. They need acceptance - someone who believes in them and won’t fade when things get hard. That’s what was given to me, and now I give it freely to the next man.

I’ve lived at the top. I’ve lived at the bottom. I’ve gone from being what I call a “rock star” in the political world to a “rock star” in addiction. Today, I’m walking a different path.

Every morning, I practice gratitude. Every night, I take inventory. I ask myself how I showed up in the world that day. I lead by example and walk with purpose.

Everything I experienced: the leadership, the negotiations, the influence, the loss - it was all training for this season of my life. When I checked into treatment on September 12, 2023, I needed a bed. What I found was a foundation.

Today, that foundation supports not just me — but an entire community of men who are learning that their past does not define their future. Recovery didn’t just give me my life back. It gave me my purpose.