My Recovery Perspective on Harm Reduction
I believe in harm reduction.
If someone is overdosing, you reverse it. If someone is sharing contaminated needles, you reduce infection. If someone is at risk tonight, you reduce the chance they die tonight. Survival matters.
Especially now, in a fentanyl environment where a single relapse can be fatal, reducing immediate harm is not optional — it is lifesaving. The same is true with alcohol. Drunken driving kills people. Excess kills people. The consequences are real.
I would not be here writing this if I had not been given a few chances. Sobriety was not my first attempt. Over the years of returning to use — and sliding back into overuse — I tried moderation. I tried cutting back. I tried switching drinks. I tried rules and limits.
Moderation felt responsible. It sounded reasonable. It allowed me to believe I was in control.
But even one or two drinks lowered my inhibition just enough to weaken the next decision. Reduced use did not move me forward. It prolonged the instability. Each return to “controlled” use led back to the same place.
What finally broke through wasn’t a new strategy. It was a close friend who spoke plainly. The message, in essence, was this: you don’t have goals. You don’t have purpose. You’re drifting.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t cruel. It was honest.
That clarity cut through every private negotiation I had been making with myself.
In early recovery, compassion matters. Shame rarely produces stability. Fear rarely produces insight. Addiction clouds judgment. It feels like choice but often behaves like compulsion. No one can be argued into sobriety. No one can be forced into willingness. At the same time, we eventually have to acknowledge the part we still control.
When someone is tangled in denial or confusion, the first step is connection. “Meet them where they are” is a phrase I often hear, and I agree with it. You cannot help someone you refuse to see.
There is a difference between someone trying and stumbling, and someone not yet ready to move. Most of us in recovery failed before we succeeded. That deserves compassion.
Harm reduction belongs in that early stage. It can keep someone alive long enough for clarity to emerge. It can reduce chaos enough for treatment to become possible. Clean syringe programs reduce infectious disease. Naloxone reverses overdoses. Some medically supervised approaches help certain people reduce alcohol or drug use. These efforts reduce direct harm — and that matters.
But none of them guarantee recovery. Addiction is complex. People are different. Outcomes vary. Reduced harm is not the same as restored life.
At some point, the message must change.
Meeting someone where they are is a starting place. It is not a permanent address. Harm reduction without forward movement can quietly become maintenance of decline.
For some people, harm elimination — complete sobriety — may be the only stable goal. I know it was for me. Eliminating alcohol ended the negotiation. It restored clarity. It allowed me to set goals again. It helped me rediscover purpose and joy in living.
I am not opposed to harm reduction. I support it as a beginning. But it cannot be the destination for everyone.
If you are considering moderation, be honest about your own history. Patterns tell the truth. If every attempt at managing your use eventually collapses, that is information. If someone who cares about you is brave enough to tell you that you are drifting, listen.
If you love someone who is struggling, lead with compassion. But do not confuse compassion with silence. Meeting someone where they are does not mean agreeing that where they are is working. It means starting there — and then expecting movement.
Harm reduction can save a life.
But recovery is what rebuilds it.