Friends of Salt Lake Alano Club

I love her message!! So very TRUE!!

I’ve debated writing this for a while.

Because every time someone speaks about it, people assume it’s drama.

It’s not.

It’s grief.

It’s frustration.

And honestly, it’s heartbreak.

People are out here dying.

People are overdosing.

People are going in and out of rehab while creating content like they have the answers, telling others how to stay sober when they don’t even know how themselves.

I’ve lost friends to this disease.

I could name multiple people I loved dearly who I miss every single day.

People who created content.

People who gained followers.

People who genuinely helped others.

And now they’re gone.

Because addiction is real.

Recovery is real.

And the consequences are real.

That’s why it’s so dangerous when people come online to build an ego, make money, and act like recovery is a game.

Trying to teach people how to recover while working no real program.

Trying to guide others without any professional background in helping people.

Giving advice while they’re still cycling in and out of treatment themselves.

This isn’t entertainment.

People’s lives are at stake.

For almost a decade, I’ve watched something happen in the recovery community that nobody wants to talk about.

The people being hurt aren’t usually newcomers.

They aren’t stupid.

They aren’t naive.

They’re some of the kindest people I’ve ever met.

They’re the mothers who buried their children.

The grandmothers on fixed incomes.

The widows who live alone.

The people who know what suffering feels like and would do anything to help another human being avoid it.

And that is exactly why they become targets.

I’ve watched people build platforms they never earned.

I’ve watched people with almost no recovery experience position themselves as leaders, mentors, advocates, and experts.

I’ve watched people who won’t work a job spend all day online convincing others to financially support them.

I’ve watched recovery become content.

I’ve watched trauma become a brand.

I’ve watched faith become a marketing strategy.

I’ve watched addiction become a business model.

And before anyone gets upset, let me be clear:

I’m not talking about everyone.

There are a few incredible advocates doing amazing work. Yes a few.

There are some not many honest people with integrity, morals and values serving others every day.

But there is also a dark side to online recovery that nobody wants to acknowledge.

There are people who have figured out that pain sells.

That tears generate engagement.

That relapse generates sympathy.

That vulnerability creates opportunity.

And they use it.

Over and over again.

The same crisis.

The same excuses.

The same promises.

The same manipulation.

Different victims.

I’ve watched people send thousands of dollars they couldn’t afford to lose.

I’ve watched women become emotionally attached to people they’ve never even met.

I’ve watched grieving parents get exploited because helping someone else made them feel connected to the child they lost.

I’ve watched people mistake charisma for character.

Followers for credibility.

Visibility for integrity.

And here’s the part that bothers me most:

When someone finally speaks up, people defend the person hurting them label them as haters.

Because manipulation works.

That’s why predators use it.

The internet has created a strange world where someone can make a few videos, gain a following, and suddenly be viewed as a trusted authority.

But followers don’t equal integrity.

Views don’t equal character.

Going viral doesn’t equal wisdom.

Some of the most dangerous people I’ve encountered knew all the right recovery language.

They knew all the right Christian language too.

They knew exactly what to say.

Exactly how to sound humble.

Exactly how to gain trust.

Exactly how to keep people emotionally invested because transparency can be the best form of Minipulation.

Because they looked wounded, people never considered they might be the one doing the wounding.

If you’ve ever felt pressured to give money, rescue someone, fix someone’s life, constantly bail them out, ignore red flags, or excuse behavior that would concern you if it came from anyone else…

Pay attention to that feeling.

Compassion without boundaries is where exploitation begins.

The recovery community deserves better.

The grieving deserve better.

The lonely deserve better.

The vulnerable deserve better.

And maybe it’s time we stop asking whether someone has a platform and start asking whether they’ve earned our trust.

Protect your heart.

Protect your peace.

Protect your wallet.

And remember:

Not everyone speaking about recovery is living recovery.

Not everyone speaking about God is following God.

And not everyone asking for help actually wants help.

Some people just want access.

Access to your money.

Access to your emotions.

Access to your compassion.

And if you’ve spent enough years in these spaces, you learn the difference.

The amount of women and men being exploited for s*x is astounding and I could go off on what I’ve seen since I got in this space but y’all gotta wake up and start paying attention.

I stay over here in my lane and mind my own business cause each time I get to know these content creators I see just how sick so many still are using a platform to lure others in.