Jonathan Longtain

​Before recovery, life was chaotic and unmanageable. I was constantly dealing with consequences—most of them created by my own hands. I was exhausted spiritually, mentally, and physically. I had lost touch with who I was and what I loved most: my art, my family, and especially my daughter. 

​Recovery hasn’t been a straight line. I’ve relapsed. I’ve rebuilt. I’ve restarted. But this time, something’s different. I’m not rushing it. I’ve learned that patience is part of the process. Patience is something I realized for the first time at Grandview, a place where I realized I belong. I saw other alumni—guys just like me—working here, living clean, helping others. I saw people laughing, not using. Smiling, not running. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something like hope.

What made Grandview different from other places was how they embraced who I was. Most programs I’d been to tried to squeeze you into their mold. But Grandview encouraged me to be myself and to express my creativity. Art, music, painting—they 

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didn’t just allow it, they supported it. That meant the world to me, because tattooing has always been my passion. But in my addiction, it was always the first thing to go. I’d lose the shop, lose the focus, lose myself. 

Recovery for me right now means doing the work—working the steps, meeting with my sponsor, showing up to meetings, and building real connections with other sober men. I’ve never finished the steps before. The last time I worked them, I made it through Step 9, but it didn’t feel like anything clicked. Maybe it was where I was mentally, or maybe I just wasn’t ready.

But this time around, something feels different. I have more faith—in the process, in the people around me, and in myself. I’m learning to build a stronger foundation so when I do get things like a job, a car, or a place again, I can keep them. That was always the hard part for me—maintaining stability. Now I’m building it from the inside out. While I continue to build my mental, physical and spiritual foundation I think about the future, I think about my daughter and how I want to build a home where she feels safe, loved, and supported. Somewhere she can grow with confidence, knowing she’s got a strong foundation behind her. 

The day I stopped using was the day I stopped surviving and started building my life and showing up for other guys the way people once showed up for me. Thanks to my time at Grandview, I am clean, I'm working as a house manager in one of Grandview's sober living homes, and I am busy creating a sustainable future. It’s still early in the journey, but I’ve already come a long way from the chaos I used to live in, I never thought I’d be able to say that. I’m still quiet. I still like to keep to myself. But I’m also consistent. Stable. Present.

If I could talk to my past self—the one who was just starting this journey—I’d say:

“Be patient. Nothing good happens overnight. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Even if all you can manage today is a phone call, or a meeting, or a few minutes of writing—do that. The rest will come. Stay sober, and everything else will follow.”

It’s easy to have faith when things are going well. It’s harder when they’re not. But those are the moments that build you. And I’m here to tell you—it’s worth it. Art has always been a part of my healing. Whether I’m painting, tattooing, or even playing guitar or piano, creativity gives me peace. Grandview encouraged that part of me, and I’ll always be thankful.

I still lean on the community I found here. That safety, that connection—it’s something I carry with me. When I’m having a tough day, I know I can walk over and talk to someone. That kind of support is rare. And it’s something I never want to lose.
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So if you’re early in your journey—don’t rush it. Don’t chase the car, the apartment, the relationship. Chase your peace. The rest will follow.

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