“Life’s storms may try to extinguish our light, but it is our job to keep it burning, for ourselves and for others.” — The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter by Hazel Gaynor
I’ve been in long-term recovery for 31 years now. Long enough to know the hardest part was never the storm — it was trusting there was a shore at all.
When I think about why TriCircle exists, I keep returning to an image that has everything to do with this work: a lighthouse. A lighthouse doesn’t chase ships or sound an alarm at every vessel passing by. It stands where it’s needed and shines — steady, honest, unmistakably itself. But a lighthouse being steady doesn’t mean it was ever effortless. Behind that constant beam is relentless upkeep: someone climbing the stairs in every kind of weather, tending the flame, making sure it never goes dark. That’s the part of the metaphor I hold onto most. Our steadiness has never been passive. It’s been earned, night after night, by hands that refused to let the light go out.
Ten years ago, a handful of us started TriCircle without a five-year plan, let alone a ten-year plan. What we had was a light we knew how to tend: the truth of our own recovery, offered without pretense, to anyone navigating the water we once did. We were never the loudest or the most polished. We worked to be findable — present and honest, showing up again and again until the people who needed us learned they could count on finding us there.
Almost everything we’ve built has been carried by volunteers — people in recovery themselves, family members, neighbors who simply decided to show up — with select services contracted along the way to meet real needs. That volunteer backbone is, to me, the truest expression of the lighthouse: not one grand keeper, but many hands taking turns tending the same flame, year after year, so it never once went dark.
I also believe this is true of leadership. My job has never been to control every outcome or chart every person’s path. It’s been to hold the light steady with clarity about who we are, consistency in how we show up, and honesty even when it’s costly — so our community always knows where true north is, even in rough water. That takes constant tending too. Nothing about it has been passive.
We marked our tenth anniversary at our Gala on July 26th, and it was a chance to thank the volunteers, families, and supporters who’ve kept this light burning for a decade. But I don’t want this anniversary to feel like a finish line. The need in front of us is more urgent than it has ever been. People are dying of overdoses. Families across our community are living every day with the weight of addiction. The water is rougher than it was ten years ago, and more ships need this light than ever before.
That urgency is exactly why we’re solidifying Phase One of a three-phase long-term plan — strengthening our foundation now so we can widen our reach without our light ever growing unsteady. We’re moving with real urgency, not despite our commitment to being deliberate and honest, but because of it. The need can’t wait, and neither can we.
Thirty-one years ago, someone else’s steadiness helped me find my shore. Ten years ago, I decided to try to be that for others, alongside a community of volunteers who make this possible. Here’s to the next ten years — and to keeping the light on for everyone who still needs to find it.
Together WE are Stronger!
With gratitude,
Ana Gopoian
Founder & Executive Director, TriCircle