Life is full of hurdles. Leaps, jumps, flips, and turns. Fall. Get up. Try again. Stephen E. is a great example of someone who has hit the mat and lifted himself up time and time again…in more ways than one.
Born and raised in Torrance, CA, Stephen E. was the middle child, silently plodding away at private school. Growing up, he felt like a bit of a misfit, that is, until he discovered gymnastics at nine years old. This would catapult him into a place of feeling like himself and feeling like he belonged. “From a young age, I didn’t really fit in with my classmates. I was always looking for something that was more me. I found it in gymnastics.” In high school, he joined the diving team so as to participate in a school-sponsored sport, but continued to teach gymnastics over the summers.
Freshman year of college at Chico State. With it, the usual revelry. College fun—drugs and drunks galore. Soon, Stephen was drinking every weekend and selling acid and coke to fund his habits. Fast forward to him trying harder drugs for the first time. Naturally, class attendance and school work started to fall by the wayside. He finally “fessed up” to his parents, admitted that he needed some help, and off he went to his first treatment center.
After leaving the treatment center, Stephen found himself moving to San Diego, with little sober time under his belt and a plan to live at a sober living. He stayed out there for a little while until he moved back due to school and work. Fate had plans for him, and he started dating a girl he met in treatment. She was a great influence, so naturally, he started using again, going on to do heroin intravenously for the first time. He soon deduced that all of his heroin was cut with Fentanyl, so he eliminated the heroin middleman entirely. “I was going to needle clinics, and they would give me Fentanyl test strips. All of my heroin came back positive, so I decided to just cut to the chase.” Six months—then it all came crashing down…literally crashing his car.
Another trip to treatment in San Juan Capistrano. This time, he had a better bearing on what recovery really entails. While looking for a “get well” job, he found a gymnastics spot and started teaching again. This would even blossom into Stephen being able to work with children with special needs—a passion he has always kept. He began to use a more holistic approach to reach his students’ needs. “What I got from that was education to work with a variety of students.” Things were going well. Until they weren’t. Until the pandemic.
Like many of us, Stephen found himself isolating during the pandemic, neglecting his 12-Step meetings (which were now on Zoom). He eventually relapsed, starting with a little smoke and ending with a little needle. A series of misfires and overdoses followed. He lost a job and a girlfriend. “I felt I couldn’t stop. I knew I needed to get clean and sober, but I couldn’t stop.” The pressure was all too much. Thankfully, he and his family were in agreement: it was time.
Still, it took a minute. A DUI ticket and a little stint in jail got in the way. However, six months ago, Stephen found his way up the steps of 8831 Venice. That’s where everything changed—everything flipped. He’s reconnected with his family. He’s a house monitor, helping assign house jobs to other residents to keep Beit T’Shuvah clean—a thankless, but very necessary job. He rediscovered his love of gymnastics and is even coaching once again. Learning to settle into community, for someone as hesitant as Stephen, wasn’t easy at first, but when he did…everything clicked and he fell in love. “The community aspect is huge here. It’s one of the things that makes this place so unique. When I first got here, the amount of people who came up to me and introduced themselves and we’re super nice and welcoming.”
Stephen is the kind of person who makes you feel seen—deeply—right through every layer of every mask you have. He’s sharp, witty, and carries a quiet depth that comes from having lived through the fire and made it out with his heart intact. He’s the guy who’ll crack a joke just when you need one, then turn around and offer real, grounded advice. He’s thoughtful, kind, and has this natural way of making people feel safe around him—whether he’s coaching a kid through a cartwheel or sitting with someone who’s having a hard day. There’s a warmth to him that doesn’t ask for attention—it just shows up, steady and real.
Stephen’s story isn’t about sticking the perfect landing—it’s about showing up, even when your legs are shaking. It’s about finding purpose in the same place you once felt lost. These days, he’s back to teaching flips, but more importantly, he’s learning how to stand still—present, connected, and grounded. Stephen knows better than most that falling and getting up is what recovery is all about. Life is full of hurdles, but in the end, recovery isn’t about never falling again. It’s about knowing there will always be someone there to catch you.