Stories of pain, addiction, desperation, hopelessness, and finally faith and redemption.

Jocelyn Wallace – Beginning of a downhill spiral

“I want to feel like this for the rest of my life,” said Jocelyn to her father, referring to euphoria caused by the pain pills at the hospital following a crash. He just didn’t understand the impact that statement would have over the next 26 years. “When I got home from the hospital, my father didn’t get my prescription, so I jumped out of my bedroom window and went to the pharmacy to get pain pills. I knew immediately I wanted that, and I wanted it forever. It felt safe,” she shared.

“After the drunk driving crash, my parents sent me to alcohol rehab for six weeks. That six week stay became 18 months. Every time they’d let me go to the cafeteria, I’d jump the fence and go to Little Five Points. I’d stay gone until I was cold and hungry and then I would go back to treatment. While sitting in treatment meetings I would hear about people with grave losses. I hadn’t experienced anything like this. My parents took care of everything, and I just thought that I wasn’t capable of experiencing these huge losses. It was a very long time before I did.”

As Jocelyn shared her story, the depth of experience and emotion carried in her voice. She continued:

“It was a long time, around 26 years, before I was able to recognize the pain and consequences of my addiction. Recovery is an acceptance that your life is in shambles and you have to change, and at 18, I wasn’t ready to recognize that.”

A missed opportunity to turn it around

“After treatment, I went to stay with my mom and then ended up getting pregnant at 19. Like many mothers with an addiction, I hoped to use the birth of my son to turn my life around. I wanted to be better for him.”

Soon after his birth, Jocelyn decided to join the army to pursue her dream of becoming a trauma surgeon. Right before boot camp, she realized that she would have to be without pain pills for six weeks, so she backed out and left her dream behind.

Marriage followed, then tragedy struck. “Six months after I got married, my father was killed by a drunk driver, and my whole world went out of control. My dad was my rock. My mom and I had a very rocky relationship. My dad was always my person, and I lost him. I was still on pain pills, astronomical amounts of pain pills. Every doctor I went to prescribed me pain pills. I began to spiral.”

While expecting her second child, a daughter, she experienced a very rocky pregnancy. “At that point I wasn’t getting into trouble. I was kind of functioning. I tried to stay on top of my parenting duties: I was a football mom, a class mom for my son. I thought I was doing everything I needed to do. I was still blinded to the fact that I had a very big problem, I just wasn’t recognizing it.”

From bad to worse Jocelyn loses the thing keeping her centered

By the time the children were 5 and 11 years old, her marriage was marked by constant arguing and fighting. Jocelyn coped by working constantly and avoiding the issues right in front of her. This changed on Mother’s Day, when her son came to her and told her she needed to leave the relationship. She listened. But marriage had kept her centered, and the break up destroyed that center. “My ex-husband decided to fight for custody and take away my final lifeline. My kids were what kept me functioning.”

The custody battle was long and rough, and it was a harsh divorce. “The judge had my pharmacy records and stated, ‘No human can function to the level of functionality that you’re doing.’ I was working 48 hours, 24 at home, driving my kids everywhere, and had a growing, ravenous addiction to pain pills. When the judge told me I wasn’t functioning, I became defensive and replied that just because the pain pills were prescribed didn’t mean I was taking all of them. I thought, How dare you accuse me of being a junkie. My ego was huge at this point.”

The night before the court was to rule, Jocelyn and her new boyfriend got into a big fight in her mom’s driveway. “I was wrecked. The police showed up and told mom that both of us were so wrecked we couldn’t drive. He said, ‘If you don’t see how messed up they are, there’s a big problem here’.” Her mom then realized that, in “good conscience”, she could not let Jocelyn have custody of the kids, and told the legal team that she shouldn’t have custody. A devastating blow, Jocelyn recalled, “I no longer had a purpose. I spiraled even more. Now, there was nothing to keep me from getting too high.”

“In 2015, I gave away my dream house and all my assets to my ex. I moved into a rental home, then different duplexes with my boyfriend. Then he went to prison.” She got arrested several times, got into bad relationships, and overdosed frequently. One overdose happened after she learned her boyfriend had died of an overdose in a hotel. “I thought God was torturing me. I couldn’t commit suicide. Every time I tried to overdose, someone would show up with Narcan.”

Things seemed hopeless. By 2017 she had been in several long-term facilities and participated in 21 detoxes. After another overdose, she was determined to die. She tried to call her children, though she was often not in their lives. Eventually, her mom answered the phone. But something happened – instead of saying “I love you” or final goodbyes, she said “I need help.”

Jocelyn Wallace -The turning point

This was the turning point in Jocelyn’s life. “God intervened in that moment.” Her mother asked her to come over, and when she arrived, Jocelyn said, “I’m going to die Mom.” Her mother rushed her to the hospital. From the depths of wanting to die, Jocelyn now begged for her life in that emergency room.

She was then transferred to Anchor Hospital for detox. Anchor gave her a chance to be in their 30-day program, but she told them that 30 days wasn’t enough.Not only that, but she didn’t have enough money to pay for the care. A staff member told her that there was a board meeting that night and that she had a chance at a scholarship for the treatment. “I wrote a story about why I needed the program and financial aid and I presented it in front of the board. I asked God to speak through me that night, and ended up with a fully funded stay.”

While in treatment, she worked hard. She started repairing relationships with her kids and discovered that she was going to be a grandma. She decided to make the brave and terrifying decision that she was ready to go home for Christmas: “My family was so scared, but I was ready.”

She was also repairing her relationship with God. Her life was turning around. When she got back home, she got custody of her daughter, and told her family that she would do whatever they wanted to feel more confident in her choices, including the family tracking app Life360. This app shared her location with other family members, making her accountable.

It was also time to be accountable to the legal system. Jocelyn went to court to turn herself in and serve her time for all of her probations. However, when she arrived, the judge pulled out a stack of 200 letters from people in the community who wanted to vouch for her progress and good character. The judge decided that he would suspend her sentence in that county and subsequently her probation in all other jurisdictions except Douglasville would end. 

Never Alone Clubhouse is born

Reflecting on her experiences, Jocelyn Wallace felt that there were many times she yearned for help but couldn’t figure out where to find it, at least not help that would connect with her. And she wanted to help others who were in a similar situation.

While in treatment, a legislator heard Jocelyn’s story, and told her about the Georgia Council for Recovery. Their CARES program(Certified Addiction Recovery Empowerment Specialist) trains individuals how to to provide recovery support services to the communities of Georgia, and to shed light on addiction. She earned her certificate from the Georgia Council but struggled to find a job in the field because of her criminal background.

“During my training, I realized West Georgia could benefit from such a program. Even though I finally got a position in Dunwoody, I kept feeling a directional pull to Douglas County. I think it was where God wanted me. I told my mom, ‘I’m quitting my job, and I’m starting a non-profit.’”

On February 21st, 2021, Never Alone Clubhouse opened. They were in a very small building on Spring Street, “our humble beginnings,” she says. In August 2021, they moved to the larger location on Grady Street, thanks to a “gentleman who quickly became our guardian angel.”  In August of2023 they were able to purchase the building on Grady Street allowing them to further expand.

With a staff of three, they started their re-entry program at the Douglas County Jail, and provided peer support and substance abuse prevention and intervention. They also went, and still go to to Tanner Hospital to advocate for individuals to get support services instead of incarceration. They provide recovery support service in the emergency room department. The staff also advocates in City of Douglasville municipal court providing recovery support services, advocating for recovery instead of incarceration. 

In January 2023, a major flood damaged the wood flooring and sheetrock. “So many people came to help. Everything had to be ripped up and thrown in a dumpster. That day, by the morning meeting, everything was cleaned up and ready to go. My mom, who now works at the Clubhouse, posted on Facebook in an attempt to find someone to install flooring. Soon people from all from all around the U.S. showed up donated the floor project, which would have cost around $124,000!”

A new purpose for Jocelyn and new hope for the community

Wallace, once a desperate addict living day to day is now looking ahead. She has found a purpose within the Clubhouse and has been sober since March 4th, 2017. 

“For the past four going on five years, I’ve had the incredible honor of watching this vision become reality. We’ve distributed 27,403 Naloxone kits—each one a potential life saved. We’ve had over 38,000 recovery-focused interactions. We’ve helped 29 individuals earn their Peer Support Certifications, and of those, 12 now work full-time for us as Certified Peer Support Specialists. We also proudly employ a Certified Alcohol and Drug Counselor II (CADCII)—another step toward holistic, person-centered care. I am especially excited about our new mobilized “Recovery to the Rescue” unit which will allow us to go to hotspots in Douglas and Carroll County to take our services to those that need them.”

“This work is not about numbers. It’s about the people behind the numbers – the mother who gets her children back, the father who finds purpose again, the young person who believes they have a future. We walk the journey with them, offering a hand to hold and a system of wraparound services to help them rebuild their lives.”

Other stories from the Clubhouse

Desiree Garrett

Desiree never really had a childhood. “I got pregnant at 14. I was a straight-A student, cheerleader, and a basketball player. But I was addicted to pain pills. I graduated from high school, then got pregnant again at 19 and at 21. I went back to college for nursing and learned about anxiety and other disorders. And I learned how to get medication. I had anxiety but didn’t take the medicine as prescribed, and then I ‘had’ ADD because that meant I could get Adderall. I was prescribed pain pills my first year in college at age 32. I moved from pain pills to meth because I couldn’t afford pills. Soon my husband and I had no money, and he went to prison because he had quit his job and started robbing houses. We lost everything. I made the difficult decision to give my son to my 21-year-old daughter because I recognized that I couldn’t take care of him.”

Things got worse. “One night, I went out and someone gave me something, and I stopped breathing. My sister called 911, and because of a warrant I had, I went to jail. My two daughters went to live with a relative they had never even met before. When I got out of jail I had no kids.”

“I went wild. I had never had a rebellious teen stage, had never had a childhood, I had been raising kids since I was 13. I started selling drugs, and got arrested again. That’s when I met Jocelyn Wallace. She told me that recovery is possible. That changed my life. My one piece of advice to someone struggling is there is life after addiction.”

Desiree went through recovery and became certified, and is now a peer counselor at the Clubhouse.  She is going to be a part of the mobile team alongside David and Hannah, who you are about to meet.

David Wilson

David was in prison and various jails for 13 years. “I found God in Prison and changed my life.” It’s been 9 years since he has used any drug. He was drawn to the Clubhouse by “a need to give back to the community I took so much from.” During his time as an addict, he used every illicit drug. His pathway to sobriety was Jesus Christ. He always knew he was called to be in the recovery field.

“I didn’t know exactly what that looked like, but I knew Christ called me to it.” he shared. Authorities released David 12 years early asserting that he was a “productive member of society.” Though offered a job by Georgia Mental Health Consumer Network to work at the Department of Corrections as a forensic peer mentor, he felt called to the Never Alone Clubhouse, and he has stayed there ever since.

David, Jocelyn, and Desiree are also in a motorcycle ministry.

Hanah Braxton

“Only by the grace of God did I not lose my children. My kid’s father never took it that far,” Hannah, a certified member of the Clubhouse, shared. In February 2015, Hannah got arrested for the last time and it turned her life around. “When I got out of jail, I did everything differently.” She started getting involved in the Never Alone Clubhouse and going to meetings. She eventually became certified as a peer counselor, and is now a lasting member. Hannah will be joining Desiree and David in the mobile unit.

Candi Florence

Candi Florence never imagined her life would take the turns it did. Her story includes early trauma, addiction, and prison—but also resilience, healing, and hope.

She was just 13 when she first experimented with drugs. It started with marijuana and quickly escalated to crystal meth, ecstasy, and acid. By 16, she was battling addiction while trying to raise a child. Becoming a young mother gave her a sense of purpose, but it couldn’t quiet the storm she was already caught in.

At 18, she was arrested for the first time. Over the next decade, Candi cycled through arrests and prison sentences, losing years to a system that saw only the surface of her struggles. Beneath the mugshots and charges was a woman who desperately wanted peace.

Things began to change in 2012. After staying clean for three years, she was injured in a car accident. Doctors prescribed opioids—and like so many others, she slipped back into addiction. This time, it was heroin. That relapse led to another arrest in 2014, and it could’ve ended there.

But it didn’t.

Candi entered rehab and began working her way back. In 2016, she joined Drug Court in Douglas County and threw herself into the process. She made progress and stayed clean for years. Then in 2019, she relapsed.

Instead of giving up, she reached out for help again.

This time, Candi started medication-assisted treatment with methadone—a choice that comes with stigma, even in recovery communities. But for her, it worked. Combined with therapy, support groups, and a growing sense of spiritual renewal, it gave her the stability she needed to keep going.

She realized healing wasn’t something you do alone. It happens in relationships—with other people, with yourself, and for Candi, with God.

In 2023, she found The Never Alone Clubhouse, a recovery center in Douglas County that welcomed her without judgment. That October, she joined the staff. The work felt meaningful. It wasn’t just a job—it was a way to use her past to lift others up.

People listened to her because she understood what they were facing. She’d lived it. She didn’t have to prove she cared; it came through in every conversation.

By June 2024, Candi earned her CARES and CPS-AD certifications, officially stepping into a professional peer support role. Those credentials reflected not only her training, but everything she had overcome.

Today, she walks alongside others still navigating the hard parts—addiction, relapse, the court system, recovery. Her past no longer holds her back; it fuels her work. And while she’s proud of how far she’s come, she’s even more passionate about helping others get their start.

She’s open about her journey—including her experience with MAT—because she knows that recovery isn’t one-size-fits-all. Her goal is to break down stigma and create space for honest conversations.

Candi’s path hasn’t been easy. There were setbacks, losses, and moments that could’ve ended everything. But she’s still here. She’s a mother. A mentor. A believer. A fierce advocate for second chances.

And for anyone still lost in the dark, she’s living proof that there’s still a way forward.