‘Addiction and mental health problems do not discriminate. They can happen to a lawyer, doctor, teacher – anyone.’

Wantagh

“My grandparents are from Ukraine, and they emigrated to Poland during World War II. I was born in Poland. Growing up, we spoke both Polish and Ukrainian, and I went to a Ukrainian school. When I was 10 years old, my father saw a flyer in a newspaper that said ‘Green Card Lottery,’ and we won! He and my mom moved here first, and later I came with my two siblings.

“Coming to the U.S. was different. In Poland, my grandmother would go outside to a well to get a bucket of water to boil for showers. That’s how we’d wash our hair at her home. I think that’s why I appreciate how much we have in this country.

“We continued our cultural traditions when we came to the U.S., like folk dancing, singing and cooking. The Ukrainian culture is beautiful; I’ve always been proud to be Ukrainian. My very first tattoo was of a tryzub, our national symbol.

“It wasn’t easy growing up feeling different from others. I had to adjust to a new culture, new language and new people. As a young teen, I had gone through a lot of trauma that I never discussed. It led me to start experimenting with different substances. It was the only way I knew how to cope with things at such a young age.

“I’ve had some run-ins with the law. Still, I managed to get my bachelor’s degree in visual communications and my master’s in education. I wasn’t your typical person in recovery, or the image of what people think that is. Because addiction and mental health problems do not discriminate. They can happen to a lawyer, doctor, teacher – anyone.

“That’s why today I make it my mission to help others, to spread hope, awareness and inspiration. The more we talk about and normalize our struggles, the more we can inspire change.

“I got certified and now work as a senior recovery outreach specialist on a mobile recovery unit. It’s a big RV that’s an extension of the clinic, providing therapy, medication, vocational and educational counseling and more. We break down all barriers. If you can’t get to a meeting or to rehab, we will get you there. If you need housing, we’ll advocate on your behalf. Some days we go to Eisenhower Park and see clients there. Other days we’re at probation doing outreach and Narcan trainings.

I choose to recover out loud for those still suffering in silence, like I once had.

“November 20, 2017, was the day my life changed forever. I got the date XI.XX.XVII tattooed permanently into my skin. It holds more significance to me than any other day. It allows me to celebrate my road to recovery, my struggles and my triumphs. It symbolizes hope and inspires others.

“I went back to school and got certified as an addiction recovery coach and peer supervisor, and I got my counselor. I got my family and friends back. I’m now living life to the fullest. I even started a clothing brand called Dear Recovery, which combines my two passions: my graphic design skills and my story of hope. One shirt says, ‘We are all healing’ and ‘I stand for recovery.’ Another says, ‘No more stigma, let’s start a conversation.’ I’ve had people come up to me when I’m wearing one of my shirts and ask how to get help for themselves or their kids.

“I wanted to develop a platform free of judgment where people can connect and find support. I wanted it to be a conversation starter, the doorway to have those tough discussions, to normalize as a society talking about ways we can help each other. The site provides a free resource page where people can find different resources and support. My end goal is to raise funds from the clothing and donations to provide a percentage to those that cannot afford therapy or treatment.

“I now run a support group at the Nassau County Jail on a weekly basis. I share my experience, strength and hope with the women there. I also go into different high schools throughout Long Island to educate and share my story with the kids. My mission is to normalize recovery, to normalize talking about our struggles. So many kids are suffering in silence, dealing with depression and anxiety. I also do Narcan trainings in the schools now.

“I want to destigmatize mental health and bring more awareness to it. Mental health is just as important as any other health diagnosis. I want to show the world that you don’t have to be ashamed because of a mental health diagnosis or your addiction. I am living proof that recovery is possible. Today, I am the face of hope, and I choose to recover out loud for those still suffering in silence, like I once had.”

‘There is just something magical about a sunrise and a sunset – they are both a beginning and an end.’

Carle Place

“I was in a bad motorcycle accident and almost lost my right leg on July 31, 2021. I had to go through several surgeries, and I was bedridden at one point for months at a time. I realized that at 50 years old, I hadn’t seen and done a lot of the things that I wanted to see and do. I made a promise to myself that I was going to explore different areas of Long Island.

“It wasn’t until November of 2022, after they took all the metal from the accident out of my leg, that I was able to start walking again without restrictions. In December, I started walking on beaches to rebuild my ankle and leg muscles. It wasn’t the prime time to be on the beach, but I found it was nice because I was pretty much by myself, and I wasn’t holding anyone else up if I had to go at a relatively slow pace.

There is a point in every single one where light touches darkness. They are mentally, physically and spiritually significant.

“I started walking during sunrises because I was up early from the pain, and that eventually turned into doing sunset walks because I found it so fascinating and spectacular. I thought, there have to be people out there in nursing homes or senior centers or the hospital who aren’t able to see these things, and I really have to start sharing these photos. I’m not a photographer, but I’ve become one by hobby. Everyone said when I was posting these pictures, I can’t believe that’s on Long Island. By sharing my photos, I felt like I was like paying it forward because, by the grace of God, I had made it out with both legs.

“I decided to start a Facebook group, Long Island NY Sunrises and Sunsets, in the very beginning of March. People post pictures from all over Long Island, and we’re now close to 1,700 members. Because of my accident, I had to slow down. It made me realize the beauty that is all around us. When we’re in the flow of things, it’s easy to forget that. It’s about sharing what I’m taking in because I don’t own it; it’s something that is all of ours but not everyone has the opportunity to take it in. There is just something magical about a sunrise and a sunset — they are both a beginning and an end. There is a point in every single one where light touches darkness. They are mentally, physically and spiritually significant. They remind me that each day is different, and every moment is temporary.”

‘Any police department has its share of danger. Just watch the news any night; cops are putting themselves in danger every single day.’

Massapequa

“There were moments of sheer terror. I started off as a police officer in the Bronx in 1988, got promoted to detective and wound up doing undercover. I got to buy heroin and cocaine, legally obviously. Maybe that’s where my acting comes from. I was shot at a couple of times. I had a gun put to my head. Thankfully, our field team came to save me before he pulled the trigger. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be talking to you today.

“Any police department has its share of danger. Just watch the news any night; cops are putting themselves in danger every single day. It wasn’t just me. But I had my share in 20 years; it’s hard to avoid.

“I was a first responder on 9/11. I can replay the day frame by frame. As I was driving in, I remember seeing the towers burning from the Expressway. I knew it was going to be a day like no other in my life. We were kind of helpless on that day, just hearing the screaming on the radio from cops that were in the tower and knowing how helpless we were, knowing there was nothing we could do. It was very difficult to hear radio transmissions from police officers who are no longer with us.

“My central role was in the recovery efforts, like many of us in the detective bureau. I was assigned to the Fresh Kills Landfill on Staten Island. Basically, we were investigating the largest crime scene in the history of the United States. We were charged with looking for people, or just parts of people. There were no whole bodies; everything was pulverized.

“As they cleared out Ground Zero, they put it all on barges and dumped it in the middle of the debris field. When it came over, it was so hot, it was still smoking, There was so much methane gas. There were puddles where bubbles were coming out of the water and, of course, everything was covered in dust. At first, there were no masks. We were told that the air was fine. Then one day, I remember they came in with trucks filled with canister masks. The smell, I can still smell it today.

“When you’re a police officer, you know what death smells like. The work went on. We had 12 hours on, 12 hours off. I worked on Thanksgiving, my wedding anniversary, nothing else mattered. The nation was in shock.”

I have many friends who worked next to me in the landfill who are not here today. It’s a reminder that life is precious and to enjoy every day. I try to.

“Eventually, PTSD got the best of me. It took a few years for it to kick in to the point it was interfering with my daily life. Cops are very stubborn people. Instead of seeking help, we like to suppress. I felt like I should be able to deal with it, but when it becomes overwhelming, you have to try to normalize yourself. I retired in 2008 as a detective squad commander.

“Along with the PTSD, I have breathing issues, sinus issues, stomach issues, sleep apnea. It’s all still with me today, almost 22 years later; it’s not going anywhere. I have many friends who worked next to me in the landfill who are not here today. It’s a reminder that life is precious and to enjoy every day. I try to.

“After I retired, I went into the private sector. I went to Dowling College as director of campus safety, then was promoted to associate vice president and was able to help the college get accredited for its criminal justice program.

“A headhunter found me after three and half years and recruited me for a security company. I wound up as vice president of operations and eventually went into business for myself, doing executive protection and transportation. It was very stressful, having my own business, a very high-pressure environment, being responsible for other people’s safety [celebrities, CEOs]. I didn’t want that amount of stress.

“I’ve always had a culinary background, though not formally trained. I wound up doing work as a private chef, cooking private dinners, more as a hobby than a career. I cooked for priests in a rectory. I just wanted to do something.

“I’d always acted, though very rarely was I able to do shows in the police department. But once I retired, I stayed very connected to theater. I was in several productions: ‘The Producers,’ ‘The Odd Couple,’ ‘Deathtrap.’ I started getting involved heavily in theater because acting, being somebody else, was the perfect solution for me to combat the PTSD, just being out of myself.”

I’ve had psychologists tell me you need to stay with theater, because there were very dark times, post 9/11. When I immersed myself in theater, my life changed for the better.

“I met the director of Studio Theatre, and he had a small youth program at the time. At first, I didn’t want to be involved at that high a level. But I had business experience from what I did at Dowling, maximizing profits, managing budgets. I knew marketing, I knew public relations. We partnered up in January of 2020, and two months later the world shut down.

“When COVID hit, the impact was staggering, not just on our company, but theaters across the United States; everybody was suffering. We had to find every possible way to keep money flowing into the business, to keep it alive. Thankfully, we had a landlord who worked with us, and the government stepped in with grant money. We basically begged and borrowed from anywhere we could to keep the business afloat.

“We were fortunate enough to get an outdoor venue at Firemen’s Memorial Park to be able to keep the youth program going. Because it was outside, we were able to run a theater program and stay in compliance with all the COVID restrictions. We were fortunate to be able to give the children some sense of normalcy in their lives, despite what was going on in the world.

“But really, it’s not about money, it’s about having a passion for theater, being able to produce quality shows and even being fortunate enough to act in some of them. It’s a labor of love, to use a colloquialism, but it has to be. It’s got to be about the love of our craft, the love of the arts. It’s never about money.

“For me, theater has saved my life. PTSD isn’t just PTSD. It has other effects on the body, physically, psychologically. So finding my passion in theater and immersing myself in the theater world and, especially, the youth theater world, makes me feel so uplifted. Without having a passion and something to occupy my mind in a way that’s creative, along with the love and support of my wife and two daughters, I couldn’t handle the PTSD. I’ve had psychologists tell me you need to stay with theater, because there were very dark times, post 9/11. When I immersed myself in theater, my life changed for the better.”

Interviewed by Barbara Schuler

‘I like to serve the community because I live here. I see these people every day, whether here at the shop, restaurants or while in the grocery store.’

Hicksville

“We came to this country in 1994 with nothing in our pockets. My first job barely made the end goals. My brother-in-law was in the gas station business. He said, ‘Hey, why don’t you come and join me?’ I started as an outside full-service gas attendant and worked my way up to a night cashier and then a day cashier. My boss saw potential in me and gave me the job of assistant manager at the shop. This was back in 1998, and ever since, I have been running the shop. In June 2021, we took over the whole gas station: the service, the gas as well as the convenience store. My new name, AJ Petroleum, is the first initial of my wife and cousin’s name.

“I like to serve the community because I live here. I see these people every day, whether here at the shop, restaurants or while in the grocery store. It is not just a salesmanship here. I have a relationship with the customers — not just because they have a car, but just because we live in the same area. When I am out with my family on the weekend or day off, I see them. We meet. We talk. It’s not just a relationship that, ‘Hey, you’re my mechanic and that’s it.’ Outside the shop we also have a relationship with the customers.

I take every single car that I bring into the shop personally.

“I try my best to help them in any which way I can. Sometimes they don’t have enough money to pay the whole bill. So I give them the opportunities to pay in payments so at least they can get on the road safely with their cars. Their family members, kids and parents come over here. Our goal is to give them service in the best way possible.

“I have seen it grow a lot. Once they deal with me, they feel pretty comfortable and confident that they can rely on me. The hope for the business is to grow and have a steady clientele. We do that by giving the best service and honest advice. We make sure that we fix only what needs to be fixed. We are not trying to sell to you every time you come here. I tell it like it is and what needs to be done. Then, I give the choice to the customer. And by doing that, I gain their trust that I’m giving them the right opinion. People do value that. I take every single car that I bring into the shop personally. I treat it like it’s my daughter, mother or wife driving the car.”

Interviewed by Victoria Bell