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Real Stories. Real Support. Real Community.
The power of peer support can be seen in the lives of the people we serve every
day. Throughout June and July, we'll be sharing stories from members, volunteers, peer coaches, and community leaders whose lives have been impacted by connection, support, and recovery. These stories remind us that recovery happens in many different ways, but one
thing remains constant
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Recovery Happens Together.
Week 3 stories
Kurt - Peer Spokane
Growing up in a chaotic environment, I lived in 36 different homes and attended 13 schools before graduating. This instability resulted in a deeply introverted personality and a pervasive sense that I could not trust anyone.
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During my junior year of high school, I reached a turning point where I no longer wanted to avoid relationships or live in fear. To confront this deficit head-on, I chose a path that forced me to engage with others: I auditioned for and became the frontman of a punk/new wave band. While this successfully broke my introversion, over time, the constant attention caused my ego to overshadow my intentions. This self-centeredness followed me into my career at a multinational corporation, where my ego continued to inflate. Eventually, this path led to the total destruction of my life's construct, resulting in the loss of my family, friends, home, and possessions, and ultimately leading to my incarceration.
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Drawing inspiration from the methods I once used to overcome introversion, I set out to correct the cognitive distortions that had driven my earlier behavior. As part of my commitment to pursuing healthier social interactions and prosocial behavior, I began volunteering at Peer Spokane. In that community, I found vital support, genuine friendship, and continued education. More importantly, I was exposed to the full breadth of the human condition, which taught me how to find commonality within any group of people.
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I learned that, at our core, we all share the same basic wants and needs. The inspiration I received at Peer Spokane enabled me to reach out to the homeless in my community and further my education in ways that allow me to better serve the disenfranchised. I am profoundly grateful to the staff and the inspiring leadership at Peer Spokane for their role in my journey of transformation. Kurt. Member, volunteer, and Peer Coach since March 2025.
Amy Stepney - Peer Seattle
A Home Away From Home: My Experience with Peer Seattle.
When I first walked through the doors of Peer Seattle, I was seeking more than just
Resources—I was searching for a sense of belonging. What I found was a community that embraced me with openness, warmth, and understanding from the very beginning. Peer Seattle quickly became more than a place I visited for support; it became a home away from home, a sanctuary where I could show up as my full, authentic self. One of the most impactful parts of my early experience was the feeling of being genuinely welcomed. There was no pressure to present myself in a certain way, no expectation to hide my struggles, and no judgment about the path that brought me there. Instead, I encountered people—staff, volunteers, and peers—who saw me as a whole individual, not just a collection of challenges.
That sense of unconditional acceptance allowed me to settle in, exhale, and feel safe enough to begin the work of healing and growth. Being welcomed so wholeheartedly reminded me of what community truly means: the chance to be seen, valued, and supported exactly as you are. As I spent more time at Peer Seattle, I realized that I wanted to give back to the very community that had given me so much.
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Volunteering became a natural next step. I began participating in various roles and activities, gradually gaining confidence not just in my ability to help others but also in my own recovery journey. Being a volunteer allowed me to build deeper relationships, contribute meaningfully to the organization, and experience a sense of purpose I had been missing for a long time. Eventually, my desire to support others in a more direct and structured way led me to become a peer coach. This role became one of the most rewarding parts of my journey. As a peer coach, I had the privilege of sitting with individuals who were navigating challenges similar to those I had faced. I learned how to listen with empathy, offer grounded support, and walk alongside people as they discovered their own strengths and solutions.
Coaching wasn't about having all the answers—it was about creating space for connection, trust, and growth. In many ways, being a peer coach helped me grow as much as it helped the people I worked with. It reminded me that recovery is a shared path, one built on compassion, accountability, and mutual respect. Another meaningful part of my involvement with Peer Seattle has been facilitating the Strengthening Our Recovery group. This group is a place where individuals come together to explore tools, share experiences, and build resilience in a supportive environment. Facilitating it has deepened my understanding of peer support and expanded my appreciation for how powerful collective healing can be. Every session brings new insights, moments of vulnerability, and genuine connection among participants.
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Watching people show up for themselves and each other reinforces why spaces like these are essential. Through all these experiences—being welcomed, volunteering, coaching, and facilitating—one constant has stood out: the incredible staff at Peer Seattle. The staff members are not only knowledgeable and professional; they are genuinely compassionate people who care deeply about the well-being of every individual who comes through the door. Their commitment to creating an inclusive, empowering environment is felt in everything they do.
They model authenticity, integrity, and kindness in a way that inspires both volunteers and participants alike. Whenever I needed guidance, reassurance, or support, the staff was there with encouragement and unwavering belief in my abilities.
Peer Seattle has become a place where I can be fully myself, where my strengths are recognized, and where my experiences—both good and difficult—are valued. It has given me community, purpose, and the opportunity to contribute to the healing of others. What began as a search for support evolved into a journey of connection, growth, and service.
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I am grateful for every moment I have spent within this community and for all the individuals who make Peer Seattle the welcoming, life-changing space that it is. In many ways, Peer Seattle is more than just an organization; it is a family. It is a place where people show up for one another, where recovery is nurtured, and where hope is made tangible through everyday acts of kindness and understanding. For me, it will always remain a home away from home.
By Amy Stepney.
Joe Barsana - Peer Kent
On October 29th, 2018, I woke up with my face pressed against cold concrete. As my senses slowly returned, the truth hit me with painful clarity: I was back in jail. Again. I was lying three feet from my mat, face down, inches from a stainless-steel toilet. My eyes were swollen from an assault earlier that week. My arms were covered in bruises and scars—years of IV drug use, street violence, and survival written across my skin. I was wrapped in nothing but a heavy nylon suicide-prevention smock. No blanket. No dignity. No hope.
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The cold floor seeped into my bones. Sweat trickled down my neck. Opiate withdrawal had its claws in me, and my mind raced with self-hatred, paranoia, and fear. That moment was the harsh, unfiltered reality of my substance use and mental health disorders. That was what my life had become. And it would be the last day I ever felt that way. Since childhood, my life has been shaped by diagnoses, labels, and stigma. Major Depression with Psychotic Features, Anxiety Disorder, PTSD, Acute & Extreme Stress Disorder, and Substance Use Disorder, each one felt like a stone added to a backpack I was forced to carry. Every step through the world felt heavier, harder, and more hopeless. I started using drugs at 13. What began as an escape quickly turned into survival. My adult years followed a relentless cycle: drug use, mental health crises, hospitalizations, arrests, convictions, incarceration.
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One part of the cycle fed into the next, trapping me in a pattern I couldn't break. I became the person you avoided on the sidewalk. The person that security was called on. The person acting erratically on public transit. The person who was pulled out of traffic by police was confused and terrified.
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The person who was revived with Narcan in an alley. Before I had access to treatment services, police had nowhere to take me. I was too sick for jail, too unstable for a hospital, and too lost for any kind of help. I would end up in a cell, assaulted, alone, misunderstood, terrified. Before I had access to harm-reduction services, pharmacists turned me away when I tried to buy clean needles. So I shared dirty ones. My health deteriorated rapidly. I developed infections in my heart and liver. My mental health was shattered.
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My physical health followed. Trying to rebuild your life on the streets without support is like trying to start a fire in a rainstorm. You can spark something, but it always gets extinguished by the storm around you. My turning point didn't come in a single dramatic moment. It came through people, healthcare workers, and mental-health professionals who treated me as someone worth helping. It came from a drug court team who believed I could become the best version of myself, even when I couldn't imagine that person.
It came through crisis counselors, treatment providers, and staff who saw me not as a statistic, but as a human being with value. My deepest moment of truth came when I realized I had autonomy. I had the power to choose a different future. I didn't have to follow the tragic path of the 37 friends I had buried because of overdose and gun violence. In 2018, I entered drug court physically, mentally, and spiritually broken, facing the real possibility of prison. A little over three years later, drug court hired me to help people who were once exactly where I had been. They trusted me to guide others out of the same darkness that almost killed me.
None of that would have been possible without the services and support I received from King County. A little over six years ago, my mom was checking jail rosters and calling the medical examiner to see if I was still alive. ​Today, I get to be an uncle, a mentor, a community leader, and a voice for change. I get to show up for nieces and nephews who were born while I was lost on the streets. Seven years ago, I stood in moral defeat before judges and prosecutors. Today, I stand in front of community leaders and elected officials, sharing my story in the hopes it inspires and reaches others who feel as lost as I once did. Recovery doesn't happen in isolation. It's rarely a straight path. But with community support, access to services, compassion, and self-determination, anyone can find their way out of the darkness. I am only here because people refused to give up on me. And now, I refuse to give up on anyone else.
Jennifer Kehaulani Contrades - Peer Olympia
In December of 2009, I lost my boyfriend to the Thurston County Sheriffs shooting him, and I went to prison. I was charged with rendering criminal assistance in the first degree, two unlawful firearms, and seven ounces of meth. I never felt so alone and powerless because I was also still dealing with my son's dad's suicide. Because of these events, my sons lived in Hawaii with their grandparents, and I was going to prison in Washington, where I didn't know a lot of people and had no family support besides my dad and stepmom, who both used drugs.
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Then, on December 1st, 2019, my youngest son, Carlos, was hit by a woman driving a van, speeding and not paying attention. Anyways, she hit him so hard that every bone in his body was broken. Carlos, my baby boy, died at the scene. The loss of my child is the most heart-wrenching and excruciating pain I have ever gone through. I wish that no one should ever have to go through that. So, I thought to myself, stay strong. No crying. I can heal and do this on my own...so I did for a long time.
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I had my doctor give me antidepressant pills. I put myself in chemical dependence and grieving classes. Still, it didn't help at the same time, just going on like "I'm ok, and everything in my life is fine." In October of 2023, I became a member at Peer Olympia. I started volunteering and meeting other peers. I started getting involved in the trainings that they offer. I got to know the staff and, honestly, it may not seem like it, but the peers and staff have a lot to do with my recovery and coping. As well as healing through music, it helped a lot. Now, I'm not pissed off with hate in my heart. I've grown so much. I love myself a lot more. I know that I can go through any situation and still stay positive.
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I've received CPSS, Trauma, Facilitator, and Recovery Coach certifications. I'm getting my High School diploma next week. I have my own place with my puppy. Everyone in my life now is positive and great support. I've met my boyfriend, Johnny, here at peer Olympia, and he is a great, loving, and supportive special person now in my life.
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There is hope because I know from my personal growth and how I used to be... how I felt inside, angry, hateful, and alone. I no longer feel like that. I'm grateful for being able to wake up every day with nothing wrong with me. I know now that I'm not alone, that I have a great group of peers/support around me and at Peer Olympia. I have a lot of people whom I can talk to and who I trust. That being said, with hard work and wanting change to happen. It is all possible.
Terry Conners - Recovery Navigator Program (RNP)
Hello, my name is Terry Conners, and I am currently working with the Recovery Navigator Program.
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I have been to jail for over 14 months now, and I am looking forward to getting out and starting a new life being sober and staying out of trouble.
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I've used drugs and alcohol all my life, and with that, I have been in prison and have lost my family. So I am deciding to stop using by going to AA & NA and living in an Oxford house and being around sober people.
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I've been working with Hunter and Sean, and while in jail, they have visited me almost once a week for multiple months, encouraging me to stay sober and helping me find housing.
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Hunter even went to my sentencing and was available for the judge if he had any questions. Hunter also put money on my phone account so I could interview with Oxford houses. It paid off because I was able to stay in contact with them. I reside in Burien with Jon. I really couldn't have done it without their help.
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Also, Leman came to see me multiple times in SCORE to help me with my DOC stuff. He really helped me out. Thank you!
Bilal Willis / Coach B - Peer Workforce Development (PWD)
From Survival to Service — Rewriting the Narrative One Agreement at a Time.
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My name is Bilal Willis, though most people know me as Coach B. My journey into peer work didn’t start in a classroom — it started in a cell. It started in the silence of accountability, in the moments where I had to face who I was, what I’d lost, and what I still had the power to become.
For years, I was trapped in cycles that began long before my incarceration — cycles of survival, trauma, and misdirection. Like so many others, I was reacting to life instead of living it. But inside those walls, something shifted. I stopped asking “why me?” and started asking “what now?”
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That question became the spark of my recovery. I began to study myself — my triggers, my beliefs, my patterns — and I discovered that healing is not about perfection; it’s about progress through presence. I learned to transform pain into purpose and found that my
greatest liability had become my greatest credential. After my release, I
committed to helping others do the same.
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I became a Certified Peer Counselor, Recovery Coach Professional, and Anger Management Specialist, channeling my lived experience into mentorship, training, and advocacy. I went from a number to a name — and from a name to a voice that helps others find theirs. As a statewide Peer Workforce Development Trainer, I’ve had the honor of helping others—especially those reentering from incarceration—become Certified Peer Counselors and leaders within the behavioral health field. I’ve trained hundreds of peers across Washington State, bringing both professional and personal credibility to every room I step into.
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Beyond my facilitation work, I am a published author. My books, including A BLU PRINT for Parents and Coach B’s FITFO Toolbox: Tools for Building Better Outcomes, are reflections of the philosophy that guided my transformation: that freedom begins within. I’ve also developed an Anger Management Manual, now used in both community and correctional settings, and I am a certified Positive Indian Parenting Instructor, integrating cultural awareness and healing practices into family-centered programming.
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Through my nonprofit, Pursue It If You Want It, and my community initiative, Independent Hope Dealers Inc., I continue to build spaces where lived experience is valued as expertise, and recovery is seen as leadership in action. Today, when I speak to others about recovery, I tell them this. Your story doesn’t disqualify you — it defines your assignment.” Recovery gave me my mission, peer work gave me my platform, and purpose gave me peace.
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I no longer run from my past; I mentor others through theirs. My name is Coach B, and I am proof that redemption is real, recovery is possible, and reentry can become rebirth — when we decide to figure it the f*** out, one agreement, one relationship, and one day at a time.
FULL VIDEO OF MY STORY AT PEER PATHWAYS: CLICK HERE TO WATCH.
