With drugs, we survive. Without them, we have a chance to live. This is ever so true when it comes to this week’s spotlight subject, Tim V. Tim, used to stare in the mirror—questioning the pain in the eyes of the stranger who stared back. We’ve all heard the line, “to thine self be true,” but how is someone, like Tim, meant to find their truth when they don’t even know who they are?
For years, the weight of hardship pressed him into the ground, convincing him he would never rise. “I’m an alcoholic, a drug addict, a compulsive gambler,” he says without hesitation. “For most of my life, I didn’t know who I was. I knew what I was, but finding out who…That’s been a journey.”
Tim’s journey began in a small home in Ventura County shadowed by fear and violence. His earliest memory—a horrifying moment with his father threatening his mother with a knife in the bathtub—still echoes in his mind. “I grew up terrified. Fear was my first language. I wasn’t taught to express emotions or feel validated. I just knew I wasn’t good enough, and I hid everything.”
Eventually, the hiding turned into seeking. Seeking alcohol, seeking methamphetamine, and seeking sex—all of which he discovered in his early teens. These newfound coping mechanisms seemed like tools to bury fear and inadequacy. “Once I started using, I didn’t have to feel anymore. It gave me a false sense of security—like I could finally belong somewhere.” But that belonging came at a steep price. By his twenties, his life revolved around addiction and crime, each choice reinforcing his belief that he wasn’t worth saving. The revolving door of labor-intensive jobs, drug use, and jail time kept spinning. The more it span, the faster it got. Labor job, drug use, jail time. Job, drug, jail. Drug, jail. Misery, a little bit of success, and then it all comes crashing down…and every time it got harder—Things were clearly reaching a boiling point, whether he knew it or not.
The urge to not identify as an addict was deep within Tim. That would be admitting weakness and he was raised to mask, bury, and burn those feelings. “I had refused to absorb any of the tools that I had been given and wanted to do it on my own. I just couldn’t stop the cycle from happening. As I got older and kept failing, the losses piled up like a bad NFL season.”
Despite the chaos, Tim held onto flickers of hope, though he didn’t always recognize them as such. He describes relationships, jobs, and even becoming a father as attempts to build something better. But without the proper tools to address the deep wounds of his past, each effort crumbled. “I thought having a child would fix me…and while it gave me a reason to try, I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t be the father she deserved. Not then at least.”
The breaking point came in 2022 when Tim lost four family members within eight months—his mother, father, stepfather, and sister. That tsunami of grief was insurmountable—he was bound to drown in those waters and he knew it. Searching for his next escape, he discovered gambling. “I wanted out. When I hit big, it felt like validation. But that win turned into a compulsion I couldn’t control.”
It was during this dark period that his soon-to-be ex-wife found Beit T’Shuvah. “I never would’ve found this place myself,” Tim admits. He arrived for the first time in 2022, but fear and obligation pulled him back to the outside world after just 35 days. Despite walking out of those doors, something drew him to this place—something indescribable. “My head told me to leave…but my heart knew I’d be back.”
And he was. When Tim returned to Beit T’Shuvah, he came with a new resolve: to allow himself to grow. “I finally stopped fighting and let this place teach me how to live—not just survive.”
The change hasn’t come easy, but it’s been transformative. Beit T’Shuvah gave Tim a space to face the emotions he’d spent decades running from. “I’ve never been able to love myself, but here, I’ve learned that I don’t have to be perfect to have value. I can be flawed and still be worthy of love and respect.”
Perseverance is at the heart of Tim’s story. It’s what brought him back to Beit T’Shuvah and what drives him today. Even after he left, he came back for marathon training. Let me put this another way. Even though he was actively drinking and smoking weed, he still knew that the magic of Beit T’Shuvah was so real and that it was his obligation (even though he had only been there for 35 days) to give back. He drove an hour to get the training at five in the morning on his one day off for two years to be a part of the Running 4 Recovery team. So, now that he is a resident once more, it was a no-brainer that he was made the marathon intern and our very own Resident Coach. As the team captain, intern and coach for the marathon program, Tim has discovered a new purpose. “The marathon changed my life,” he says. “It taught me discipline and showed me I’m capable of so much more than I ever believed.”
He’s now dedicated to sharing that message with others, encouraging them to push beyond their limits. “Helping others is new for me,” he admits. “I’ve never done anything without expecting something in return. But now, I’m learning the joy of giving back.”
Tim’s life today is a reflection of growth—emotional, spiritual, and physical. “I’ve spent my whole life afraid of failing, but now I know failure isn’t the end. It’s just part of the process. Every day I show up, I’m growing stronger.” Sounds like he might be going to the Superbowl!
When asked about his future, Tim smiles. “I don’t know exactly what’s next, but I know it’s going to be close to this community. Beit T’Shuvah saved my life, and I want to spend it helping others the way they’ve helped me.”
Tim’s story is one of resilience—not just surviving the storms but learning to thrive in their aftermath. Dancing in the rain to the sound of the thunder and knowing that everything will be alright when the sun shines again. “I’ve learned that growth isn’t about getting it right every time. It’s about being willing to try, to show up, to keep going.” Today, Tim is someone who looks in the mirror—barely recognizing the ear-to-ear grin on the face of his new self. Tim is someone who is always there for his community, physically and emotionally. Tim is someone who is true to himself. That’s who Tim is.
Who are you?