61. A Valuable Lesson Learned
It has been three months since I checked myself into rehab for substance abuse. As many of you know, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been in and out of rehabs for years now. I’m not boasting when I say that—it’s just the reality of my situation. Relapse has played a huge part in my recovery journey. I’m currently a patient in Odyssey House, a long-term residential treatment program in New York City. I live in a large brownstone with forty other men who also suffer from drug and alcohol addiction. These men range in age from as young as 19 to as old as 67 years old.
This past week, a new patient named John was admitted into the program. Whenever new patients arrive, they wait in the front desk area before being assigned a bedroom in the house. Since the room where we hold all our daily meetings is past the front desk, we almost always catch a glimpse of the new arrivals as they’re being checked in. One morning, as I was heading to a group session, I passed by John during his check-in. His clothes were worn and dirty, his hair and beard looked unkempt, and he carried only a small garbage bag that I assumed held his spare clothes. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. In a place like Odyssey House, it’s not uncommon to see people come in with very little. I quickly introduced myself to John, exchanged a few polite words, and continued on with my day, not giving him much more thought. John went through the usual admission process, was assigned a room, and the week moved on.
On Thursday, Brother Theo, one of the cooks at Odyssey House, organized a barbecue for all the patients in the program. There’s a small patio at the back of the building where we’re allowed to smoke, hang out, and enjoy some fresh air. Brother Theo was grilling hamburgers and hot dogs for us, and with the weather being perfect, most of us decided to eat outside. I was waiting in line, with John standing right behind me. When it was my turn, I grabbed a hamburger and placed it on my plate. Then, as I picked up a hot dog to add to my meal, I fumbled and dropped it onto the patio.
Instinctively, I bent down to pick it up, but before I could, John had already snatched it off the ground. To my surprise, he ate the hot dog right there in what felt like three or four bites. I stood there, completely baffled, unable to believe what I had just witnessed. I chuckled and said, "What the hell are you doing, John?" Brother Theo noticed the mishap and was about to give me another hot dog since mine had hit the dirty floor. But John looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Kyle, if you had been where I’ve been, you’d understand." His words hit me, but I didn’t fully process their weight at the time. I just nodded, took another hot dog, and continued enjoying my meal and the company of the other patients. It wasn’t until later that I began to really think about what John had said, realizing that his actions spoke volumes about the hardships he had faced and the depths of his hunger—both physical and emotional.
Later that night, I laid in bed thinking about what John had said. It really hit me like a ton of bricks as I processed what he had said. Living in close quarters with people from such diverse backgrounds has been eye-opening in ways I never expected. Each man here has a story, a past filled with pain, and reasons for why they turned to substances. Initially, it was easy to judge some of them, especially when their behaviors were triggering or reminded me of parts of myself I wasn’t proud of. But as the days turned into weeks, I started to see beyond their actions and began to understand the deep wounds they carry. It’s taught me the crucial lesson of putting myself in someone else’s shoes before making any judgments.
Understanding someone else’s struggles has made me realize that we all have different breaking points, different reasons for why we falter. For many of us here, life has been a series of battles that we’ve lost more often than won. In recognizing that each of us is fighting something, I’ve learned to replace judgment with empathy. This lesson doesn’t just apply within the walls of Odyssey House—it extends to every aspect of life. It’s easy to see someone’s actions and label them without knowing their story but when you take the time to step into their shoes, to try and feel what they feel, you gain a whole new perspective.
This shift in thinking has not only changed how I view the men around me but also how I view myself. I’ve been harsh on myself for years, judging my failures and relapses as signs of weakness. However, understanding that I, too, have been fighting battles has allowed me to start practicing self-compassion. The same empathy I’ve learned to extend to others, I’m beginning to extend to myself. It’s a slow process, but it’s helping me heal in ways I never thought possible. That’s the real lesson here: before we judge, whether it’s others or ourselves, we should always take a moment to step into those shoes and try to understand the path that’s been walked.
In my opinion, learning to put yourself in someone else’s shoes before passing judgment is one of the most valuable life lessons you can cultivate. It’s a lesson in humility and compassion, teaching us that our perspective is just one of many. We often don't have all the facts, and our assumptions can be misleading. When we pause to consider what someone else might be going through or has gone through, we open ourselves up to a more nuanced understanding of their behavior. This doesn't mean excusing harmful actions, but it does mean recognizing that everyone has their battles, and sometimes, those battles can explain why people act the way they do. This shift in perspective can profoundly impact your relationships and interactions. It fosters patience, reduces conflict, and builds stronger connections because people feel understood rather than judged. Over time, practicing empathy in this way can change how you view the world, helping you become more forgiving and less quick to criticize. The next time you're tempted to judge someone, pause and ask yourself, "What might this person have gone through, or be going through?" It’s such a simple question, but it can lead to a deeper, kinder, more understanding way of interacting with others.
And remember, if you’re struggling, or know someone who is struggling, please don’t lose hope. If that had happened to me, I wouldn’t be able to spread awareness today.
