Issue 113 / April-May 2021

dangerously thin on the ground.
PJ, whose own recovery has previously been
documented in these pink pages, told me: “Rehab is not
what we are and it’s important that people know the
difference. Rehab is a strict regime – you’re in groups, in
therapy all day, no phone. Then there’s recovery houses
where you’re basically just left. A key worker will come
and see you for an hour a week and that’s it. We wanted
to be something in the middle of those two.”
And that means offering more support, a different
kind of support?
“Yeah, so people have got sobriety behind them when
they come to us, they know the landscape of the recovery
world and what it requires of them. They’ve got their own
free time, but we offer a mini programme to open them up
to other things. Saying to people, ‘You’ve worked hard to
get clean and sober, but what for? To do what?’”
Structured around similar elements to those PJ
himself leant on, the programme sees art and culture,
music and sport as an integral part of recovery. For
those who’ve previously felt excluded by their addiction
– or perhaps more honestly, those who used addiction
to exclude themselves – there is an exposure to new
ideas, new thoughts, new ways for growth while also
reconnecting with the familiar. New priorities in life.
The cultural stream of the programme at the house
presents opportunities for residents to engage with
the wider community, through workshops, theatre and
gallery visits, and strong links between Damien John Kelly
House and Liverpool’s cultural sector. Creativity is actively
encouraged in all, in whatever shape or form that might
be. It is a powerful tool in recovery and can bring about
profound changes in the way people see themselves
and their future. It brings hope through expression and
honesty, which is the true keystone of recovery from
addiction. Art heals.
Sam is a photographer, artist, writer and – since he
put addiction behind him and entered Damien John Kelly
House – is now a filmmaker. When we first met, he spoke
of himself as Sam the addict. Sam the drunk. “Fucked
Sam” as he put it.
“Addiction is the death of self, the death of whoever
you thought you were,” he says. “You’ve built this thing
which isn’t you. When I came here I didn’t know who I
was or what I was. Didn’t know who my mates were. I
didn’t know anything. The thing about this house and this
programme is it’s allowed me to find personal meaning.
I’ve heard it before from people, they’ve said the same,
it’s allowed them to find the true them.”
Creativity was always in
him; collage, photography,
writing all coming together as
a single escape route which
he calls his ‘practice’. Each
element inspiring the others.
Even in the depths of his
addiction, he’d still create.
“It were fuckin’ sporadic,
like,” he says with a strong
South Yorkshire inflection. “I
knew I wouldn’t be able to get
where I wanted to be with it
if I kept getting fucked. I used
to joke about it… but I kept
getting fucked.”
Across the room from Sam, another resident, Wayne,
talks through his experiences of the programme at the
house. He’s found a new priority, a new way to the same
personal meaning Sam spoke of.
“I was supposed to be starting rehearsals for a play
at the Epstein Theatre before the first lockdown,” he
begins. “I first came to the house in July [2019] and by
November I’d done two shows, in Edge Hill and The Unity
Theatre, with Truth To Power Café, it was great.”
“People in Liverpool
have some kind of
addiction story in
their family. Our job
here is to create
recovery stories”
From there, with eyes opened anew to the wealth of
creative possibility recovery brings, Wayne paid a visit to
an open night, again at The Unity.
“It’s a new thing, a 20-week course. I had to apply
and do an audition, but I was accepted. There was only
eight of us who were accepted out of two hundred, then
lockdown happened…”
“We were working with directors, actors,” he
continues, “they said they saw something in me. I got
such a lot out of it, though, it was amazing. I’ve started
writing, I’ve got things in mind, get some funding.
Now I just want to grab it with both hands. For me it’s
connection and just not saying
no to these things. That’s what
being here has given me.”
Recovery stories, tales
of creativity, community,
regrowth. A future borne
of honesty, acceptance and
willing at Damien John Kelly
House.
As Jacquie puts it, “We
know that people in Liverpool
have some kind of addiction
story in their family; addiction
is rife in our communities.
We’ve all got addiction stories.
Our job here is to create recovery stories.”
And the people of Wavertree are now proud to be
neighbours. !
Words: Paul Fitzgerald / @NothingvilleM
Photography: Sam Batley / @sambatley
@HomesVitality
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