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W e d n e s d ay, s e p t e m b e r 25, 2024
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Jan Risher LONG STORY SHORT
Resist the hollow allure of busy
SOBERING UP PROVIDED PHOTOS
Special events such as Overdose Awareness Day, complete with mocktails, at Southeastern Louisiana University in Hammond bring attention to LION UP Recovery and its work.
Collegiate Recovery Programs to aid those suffering with addiction BY JUDY BERGERON Staff writer
Their T-shirts read “Green, Gold and Sober.” Green and gold? Simple — those are the university’s colors. Sober? That’s the complicated one. Fortunately, students at Southeastern Louisiana University in Hammond who are searching for a path toward addiction recovery and support along that road can turn to the Collegiate Recovery Program. Southeastern was one of the first Louisiana universities to establish one of the national programs, which is also available at LSU, Tulane, Southern Law Center, Grambling State and Northshore Technical Community College. Nationwide, there are more than 160 Collegiate Recovery Programs.
In the beginning Before Annette Baldwin, Southeastern assistant director of intervention and LION UP Recovery, details the program, she feels compelled to reveal something quite personal. “So, first of all, I’m a person in longterm recovery,” says Baldwin, a licensed professional counselor who’s been at Southeastern for 21 years. She holds a master’s degree in counseling. With this first-person perspective, Baldwin saw students in recovery coming through SLU’s Counseling Center seeking support. Their recovery journeys thus far had a negative shared component, isolation. “They would come to their classes and as soon as their classes were over, they would leave campus, go back to Baton Rouge, go to their 12-step meeting, go be with their recovery community, whether it was New Orleans, Slidell, Baton Rouge,” Baldwin said. At the same time, other students were going to football games, immersed in Greek life, engaged in organizations. “A lot of it had to do with stigma or feeling uncomfortable with introducing themselves as a person in recovery to other students,” Baldwin said. “I guess maybe I have different eyes because I’m also a person in recovery.” Around 2017, Baldwin wrote the Transforming Youth in Recovery grant for SLU and got involved with the Association for Recovery and Higher Education, expanding her understanding of Collegiate Recovery. LION UP Recovery, with a nod to the school’s catchphrase, launched in fall 2019. “We keep hearing that statistic that of students that don’t complete their degree, 40% of those students don’t complete because of substance abuse issues. So universities across the board are like, we’re losing money by not supporting this population,” Baldwin said. Retention is the stepping stone to other positive effects.
“People in recovery, whenever they’re supported in their education, our GPAs are higher. Our graduation rate is higher. We return to higher education for additional degrees. We become professionals in recovery,” she said. Like Bryan Sadler, LION UP Recovery coordinator, who’s also in long-term recovery. Sadler was one of the program’s first students. “I had moved from Texas. I came here in recovery. When I got to campus, I was isolated as well. I did not get plugged in to a recovery community in the area. I ended up having a slip and I was starting to see negative consequences,” Sadler recalled. “I met Annette and she was just launching this program. And I knew right away that it was like, OK, this is what I’ve been missing.” He was able to engage with other students in recovery who shared some of the exact same issues, like not feeling welcomed. “It’s easy to find somebody, you know, to drink with, but it’s hard to find somebody to go to a meeting with you because we don’t always talk about that.” Following through with the program, Sadler was not only able to graduate, but has returned to Southeastern for further study. “I’m a master’s in counseling student because the Collegiate Recovery Program was here,” he said.
How it works Southeastern’s is a wraparound program spanning individual assessment, to formal meetings called seminars, to more casual sober coaching for students in recovery from a range of addictions beyond alcohol and substances, to gambling and eating disorders. The seminars are weekly (each Tuesday of the semester) closed sessions attended by the students currently enrolled in the program. “Sometimes we start with a topic, maybe self-care, maybe it’s professionalism. Maybe it’s something that you might not necessarily find in your recovery community,” Sadler, said. “We’re all on this shared adventure of trying to educate ourselves, you know? So I’m able to bring some of the aspects of what college is like here. And sometimes they’ll be bring in things. “Because things come up while you’re in college, so this is a space to talk about that,” he said. “We’ve had students, you know, their recovery’s going great, and then they have to transition into a new job or a new position at their work outside of school. So this is a place to process that.” The program also offers open support meetings for the campus population, a weekly informal recovery book study and community-based activities. They’ll also go on weekend camping trips in northern Alabama with students from other universities in the southeast
Bryan Sadler wears the official LION UP Recovery T-shirt. Sadler, 37, is the SLU program’s coordinator, a graduate student there and also in long-term recovery. region. Back at SLU, the 18 students currently in the program may seem like a small number. However, Baldwin explains that if it’s taken into the account others including the sober curious, the individuals who are accessed but don’t enter the CRP, and faculty and staff across campus who receive training in administering the opioid reversal medication Narcan as well as Ally training, then the numbers run from 200 to 500 a semester. Ally training’s focus is changing the narrative to create safe environments for those who may need help with substance misuse, and also addresses how to help connect those with substance misuse disorder with assistance.
LSU’s program Adam Singer says the field of addiction treatment is a passion for him. Like Baldwin and Sadler, Singer, LSU’s Collegiate Recovery Program manager, is in long-term recovery. “I have been in recovery since Aug. 13, 2014. I struggled with heroin primarily, but I also had issues with all addictive substances (crack and alcohol were also of note),” he said. “I was never able Singer to moderate the use of anything, going back to early childhood. Thankfully, getting into recovery saved my life, and I owe more to many individuals than I can properly explain.” Singer has been paying it forward since those dark days, first as a licensed addiction counselor, advanced alcohol and drug counselor, and social worker
ä See RECOVERY, page 3G
When friends said they were traveling out of town and needed someone to come by and “check on their pool” occasionally, I was quick to volunteer. I love being in the water. I love to swim. I have my best ideas in water. The reason may be that’s when I’m most relaxed — whether I’m with friends or on my own. Having had more time in the past few weeks to be in a pool with only my husband nearby, I’ve reflected on why it’s so good for my brain and being. I’ve developed a theory — and it connects to why I like watching K-dramas so much. Since April 2020, I’ve watched Korean dramas almost every night. (Sidenote: If you haven’t watched K-dramas and are looking for a pleasant diversion, I highly recommend watching the beautiful, easygoing romcom ones. Netflix and Prime have loads of options. The one to start with is “Crash Landing on You.” Yes, the first episode is completely ridiculous, but trust me, the storyline climbs and you’ll grow to care more about a South Korean heiress trapped in North Korea after a paragliding accident than you ever thought possible.) But I digress. Back to the topic at hand. Floating in a pool and watching K-dramas may not seem to have anything in common, but they do. The connective thread is that when I’m watching a K-drama, I can’t do anything else. Following along takes all of my attention. Watching K-dramas has made me realize how much disdain I have for multitasking. The beautiful thing about being in a swimming pool is that it allows me to do even less. I can’t be on the phone. I don’t even know if someone is trying to message me. All I can do is be exactly where I am. If friends are with me, we can be in the water together. If only my husband and I are there, he generally fishes nearby and I get to float or swim laps. I float more than I lap. Sometimes, while I’m floating, I give serious consideration to the way the ripples distort the drain at the bottom of the pool. Sometimes, I stare into the clouds. Sometimes, I close my eyes while hanging nearly weightless on an inflatable, practically gravity-less. This quiet and stillness has been a luxury difficult to describe. I’ve always liked being in the water, but what it’s done for me this summer has been next level. I have spent decades traveling and experiencing as many places as I could find a way to see. Something shifted recently. Recently, I canceled a trip that would have taken me to my 50th country — a landmark I would like to reach eventually, but going has become less important. I’m unpacking the reasons why. Pico Iyer’s book, “The Art of Stillness,” has helped me be more thoughtful about this newfound personal realization. Iyer’s book is about “the unexpected adventure of staying put.” He works to reveal “a counterintuitive truth: The more ways we have to connect, the more we seem desperate to unplug.” Iyer wrote that the idea of going nowhere is “as universal as the law of gravity; that’s why
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