Felix

I grew up in Commerce City, Colorado, in a home filled with more chaos than comfort. My mother, a single parent carrying the scars of her own abusive childhood, raised us in an environment where physical, emotional, and verbal abuse were normal. My brothers and I learned early how to survive, not how to feel safe. By fifth grade, I was already smoking weed to escape. By high school, I was using daily, selling drugs, and building an identity out of anger and toughness. I was a talented athlete with real opportunities, but the pain at home was louder than my potential.

In my twenties, everything spiraled. I was working long hours, exhausted, and drugs shifted from escape to lifestyle. Then, in January 2022, my life changed forever. I had been pushed past 24 hours of driving on a trucking job when I crashed. A man—a father of five—died. I walked away with barely a scratch, but I didn’t walk away the same person.

For months afterward, I lived in a fog of guilt and cocaine. I barely left my bed. I lost my car, my apartment, my dignity. I lied to everyone, especially myself. I hit a spiritual and psychological breaking point—hearing voices, unable to control my own body, begging strangers for help. When my mother saw me during one of those episodes, she said, “You’ve been using since you were young, but you’ve never been like this. You need help.”

Something cracked open. I called my uncle and asked where to go. A few days later, I walked into Salvation Army Harbor Light and asked for help. It wasn’t easy—I was rejected once, struggled with anxiety and isolation—but I stayed. And that’s where I first heard the name Ignatian Spirituality Project.

I didn’t know what to expect, but when ISP came over the intercom inviting us to a meeting, something in me said Go. I was raised Catholic, and returning to a familiar faith tradition felt grounding. When Jim and the ISP group arrived, it felt completely different from the classes and lectures we were used to. ISP wasn’t about rules. It was reflection. Stillness. Honesty. Hearing scripture as invitation rather than judgment.

When I went to the ISP retreat at Mother Cabrini—a place sacred to my family—it felt like a sign from God. During the “picking of the rock” exercise, I realized I’d been carrying emotional baggage my entire life. For the first time, I put it down. Since that retreat, I’ve stopped thinking about the past with pain and started thinking about the future with hope.

Today, I’m over 130 days sober. I’m living with my father and rebuilding bridges I thought were burned. I’m working toward my high school diploma and preparing for a job at the refinery. More than anything, I want to become a teacher and peer coach for youth in recovery. ISP didn’t just help me stay sober it helped me remember who I am. It taught me that vulnerability is strength, that my story has purpose, and that God is still working in my life.

There’s no reason to lie to myself anymore. I lied so much. What’s the point in lying anymore? Today, I can finally say I love myself. I love Felix for Felix. Felix is changing. ISP didn’t save me. ISP helped me learn how to save myself.

Felix, Denver