The Power of Community in Recovery

By Laura Wilson, Communications Coordinator

The first time I walked into The Magdalen House, I was terrified. My only plan was to “play the game” just long enough to convince my dad to let me stay with him, since I was homeless. Maggie’s was supposed to be a pit stop — two weeks and done. That was six years ago.

On my first day, I sat on my bed with the schedule in my hands, overwhelmed with regret and fear. I couldn’t imagine separating myself from alcohol forever — just making it through 14 days felt impossible. My mental obsession with alcohol told me all I had to do was survive the First Step program, move in with my dad, and maybe make it 30 days without a drink. Little did I know, my plan was about to fall apart in the best way possible.

That afternoon, the women in First Step came out of their meeting and gathered in the living room. I joined them, ready to tell my story and convince them I was different, special, and too broken to understand. But then something unexpected happened:

We started laughing. Not just a normal, "ha-ha," but belly rolling, tears flying, laughing.

In that moment, I didn’t know their names, but I felt safe, seen, and most importantly — not alone. These women were just like me: broken, hopeless, and unable to stop drinking no matter how badly they wanted to. Yet somehow, they understood me better than I understood myself.

Over the next two weeks, I learned about the disease of alcoholism. I learned I wasn’t crazy, and I wasn’t alone. I met women who had walked through the same darkness and found a way out. It wasn't the fact that they were sober that amazed me, it's the fact they were HAPPY about it. These recovered women continued to show up to chair meetings, volunteer, and sit with women like me. They promised that if I stayed close and connected, I could find the same happiness they had, which I desperately wanted for myself.

When my two weeks were up, I was terrified again—but this time, because I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to lose the safety, friendships, and hope I had found inside those walls. What I didn’t realize was that it wasn’t the end—it was only the beginning.

I kept coming back. I went to meetings, I volunteered, and eventually, I became an overnight volunteer myself. The beauty of this community is that it doesn’t stop with me. Recovery has taught me that I get to give back what was so freely given to me. Whether it’s welcoming a newcomer, sharing my story, or simply sitting with someone who feels as broken as I once did, I now have purpose. And that’s when I learned the truth: it wasn’t the First Step program that saved my life—it was the Community.

Community at The Magdalen House is more than just a group of people. It’s a lifeline—the thread that pulls us out of darkness and isolation and into joy and connection. It’s the feeling of being truly seen for the first time, without judgment or shame. It’s women gathering around the dining table, laughing through tears, reminding each other that none of us are too far gone.

The Magdalen House Community is where my life truly began, where brokenness turned into belonging, and where loneliness was replaced with love. Community is where hope is borrowed when you don’t have your own. It’s where holidays are spent, birthdays are celebrated, and where bad days turn into great days simply because you’re not walking through them alone.

For me, Community at The Magdalen House is where I found my home.