A POINT-ED QUESTION

They may be on opposite sides of the same fence, but there's something
recovering addicts and residents of an Ash Street neighbourhood have
in common.

It's the fear of the unknown that's gathering Ash Street residents
together to oppose a bid to build a 32-bed recovery facility for drug
and alcohol addicts in their family-oriented neighbourhood.

Who exactly are these strangers moving in next door? Are they going to
pose a serious threat? Does their history with addictions mean they
will bring with them an unwanted dark element of drugs and crime?

Similarly, fearing an unknown future which could include dark, damp
and dreary, rat-infested alleyways or the confines of a cold jail
cell, addicts seeking to turn around their lives are looking to the
aptly-named Turning Point Recovery Society.

Seeking to put a human face on this story, and to provide a glimpse
into the all-too-real life of an average recovering addict, The
Richmond Review spent a day with someone seeking hope.

And what's remarkable is how ordinary he is.

Nathan isn't his real name, but his story is authentic, his personal
tragedy born of sad family circumstances that likely strike a familiar
chord with many locals.

He doesn't pose a threat to the community, and arguably is less of a
threat as someone trying to forge a future than somebody still using
drugs and seeking to fund the next high through crime.

Talk to enough of the residents in the Ash Street neighbourhood and
you'll likely find those who are not opposed to the Turning Point in
principle.

They recognize there are likely people like Nathan-who are able to
hold down a regular job but mask their addictions-who live there today.

And indeed, it's ordinary people who succumb to addictions. Those who
enrol to Turning Point aren't scary monsters, the likes of which you
might see on TV or on Halloween. Their problems are real, their lives
just as important as anybody else's.

They're simply seeking a lifeline. That's what the entire community
needs to remember.