After over a decade of being offered only an abstinence-based, one-size-fits-all pseudoscience approach, I was introduced to harm reduction. It was a framework that met me with dignity, options, and respect for autonomy. Where the treatment industrial complex both harmed and failed me, harm reduction celebrated achievable, incremental changes and made space for complexity. Instead of moralized definitions of so-called “recovery,” it offered safety, comprehensive drug education free from scare tactics, and the freedom to define my own goals. That approach helped me survive, stabilize, and begin making self-directed changes on my own terms.
In 2019, I began accessing a syringe services program in the Phoenix area, and in 2020 I started volunteering. That space sparked a gradual but transformative shift. I began unlearning the belief that care had to be earned, a standard I had only ever applied to myself. I witnessed people treated as whole human beings rather than problems to be fixed and, over time, I learned to extend that same compassion to myself that I had so easily offered others.
Harm reduction reshaped how I understand basic human needs – housing, food, safety, care, and connection; not as rewards for compliance, but as inherent human rights. It’s more than supplies, it’s a philosophy rooted in the belief that you matter, and deserve safety and love simply for existing. At every stage, in every circumstance, without precondition.
I feel deeply fortunate to work at Cochise Harm Reduction. My healing journey began when I relocated to Jerome, Arizona, a tiny mountaintop town with a whopping population of 452 people (at the time) – with obvious hurdles and limited access to care. I understand the barriers faced in rural communities. I’ve lived it. Being able to offer others the resources I once lacked feels like coming full circle.