[ Greenhouse ] Alaric Tan, founder of The Greenhouse for recovering drug addicts (compiled)

[groyn88]

It Changed My Life: Long, hard road to tame former meth junkie's demons
The Greenhouse is a safe space for recovering drug addicts. Its director, Mr Alaric Tan, is no stranger to the clutches of addiction, an experience he now channels in helping those who seek the place out.
Former meth junkie starts centre to help drug abusers, alcoholics conquer their addictions
9 September 2018
Wong Kim Hoh Senior Writer
Still waters run deep.
How true.
Alaric Tan looks bookish.
Soft-spoken and slight of build, with a high forehead and big protruding ears, he dresses neatly, wears Harry Potter glasses and articulates his thoughts cogently in immaculate English.
The placidity he exudes, however, belies a turbulent past.
Up until a year ago, the 40-year-old was a crystal meth junkie with an addiction so intense that he needed to consume 1mm of crystal meth or GHB (gamma hydroxybutyrate) every hour to function.
Also known as the date rape drug, GHB is a central nervous system depressant.
For nearly two decades, Mr Tan took drugs as a form of escape from a life scarred by abuse, depression and guilt - over his sexuality.
Today, he has tamed his demons and is hell-bent on helping other tortured souls battling their pain with drugs.
Last year, he founded The Greenhouse, a centre which offers various recovery programmes to help drug abusers and alcoholics clean up their act.
"Everything I went through has got me to this point where I can be of service to other people.
"I will devote the rest of my life to helping people who want to stop using drugs and find recovery," he says with quiet conviction.
He is the second of three sons from a Catholic family.
His late father was a senior civil servant. His mother, now retired, was a secretary.
Until the age of seven, he was left in the care of a babysitter, returning home only on weekends.
"I felt I didn't belong there, even though they took good care of me. I'd insist on eating porridge with soya sauce; I didn't want to impose on them. My foster family were very confused by my behaviour," he says.
"One of my first memories was holding my mother's hand, walking somewhere and asking her if I was her son."
When he was seven, he moved back home. Sadly, he did not find the stability he craved.
His parents were then going through a rocky patch in their marriage and were fighting all the time.
"I remember often hiding under the dining table and waiting for the shouting to stop. I was frightened all the time and always waiting for something bad to happen."
To make matters worse, he was physically and emotionally abused by a relative.
Declining to go into details, he says he never told his parents about it.
"I was afraid that if I said anything, my parents wouldn't want me anymore and would send me away," says the former student of Westlake Primary School.
Adolescence proved equally painful.
On the surface, he appeared to be doing well. He got his black belt in taekwondo, was president of the students' council at Maris Stella High School and attended many leadership camps.
"I was well liked and my father had high hopes for me. He wanted me to go into the civil service too," he says.
But Mr Tan harboured a secret: he was attracted to boys.
At 15, he took the bold step of coming out to his parents when they went out for dinner one night.
The episode unfolded like a scene from a movie.
"My mother started crying and a waitress who was walking past dropped a pot of hot tea on my father's lap. He was so stunned he didn't even feel the pain."
"Instead, they did something which they thought was in my best interest at that time. They tried to fix and change me."
Mr Tan was sent for conversion therapy with several therapists.
Conversion or reparative therapy is the practice of attempting to change a person's sexual orientation from gay or bisexual to heterosexual.
"I ended up seeing a therapist every week for 10 years," he says quietly. The sessions didn't work.
"Instead, I just felt that there was something dirty, shameful and broken about me which I needed to hide. If not, people wouldn't love and accept me.
"My father even told me not to use my full name in public. So I used Ric. I felt that I didn't even own my name."
Not long after starting therapy, he fell into clinical depression.
"I was put on different types of anti-depressants, one after another, for 10 years."
He winces when asked why he went along with his parents when he knew the sessions were not working.
Unlike today, Mr Tan says, there was no detailed research in the 1990s to show the effects of conversion therapy.
A 2009 review of conversion therapy between 1963 and 2007 by an American Psychological Association task force found that besides being ineffective, such therapies could increase the risk of negative outcomes including anxiety, depression and suicidal feelings.
"I loved my parents a lot and I knew they meant well and wanted to help me. I felt that I disappointed them so badly I should just go along with it. It was my way of being a dutiful son."
His acquiescence and the double life he lived took a big toll.
" I didn't have a support network. I felt like a dog which had been beaten badly. You know you can't get close to dogs like that."
When he finally walked away after 10 years, his mother broke down. "She thought I had given up on myself."
Despite his turmoil, he did well enough in his A levels to read English language and English literature at the National University Of Singapore.
Although interested in a teaching career, he did not pursue it.
"Teaching is a huge responsibility, I was not sure if I could handle it."
Not long after graduating, he went for a holiday in Bangkok where a friend convinced him to take half an Ecstasy tablet.
"The void in my life suddenly seemed filled and I felt everything was going to be OK. It was a powerful feeling for me because I'd been living in fear for so long," he says.
Around this time, an architect friend got him a project to organise an event at a sauna. He did such a good job that he was offered full-time employment as an operations and programme manager.
He stayed for seven years before starting his own outlet with a couple of friends. The venture afforded him a good income, which allowed him to indulge in his drug habit that gradually became chronic.
From a couple of times a year while on holiday, he soon needed a fix not just daily but hourly.
Ecstasy and ketamine made way for crystal meth and GHB.
He made several attempts to become clean. In August 2014, he checked himself into an expensive rehabilitation facility in Chiangmai.
"The doctor joined all the dots for me. For the first time, I understood what addiction was."
It is, he explains, a dependence on mind-or mood-altering substances in order to function because of some kind of trauma in one's developmental years.
"Because the mind does not know how to process what has happened, it pushes the force button which has the unfortunate effect of replaying the pain over and over again."
The drugs, he says, are not the problem. "They are an attempt to solve the problem. The problem is we're trying to self-medicate because we're trying to take the pain away."
Understanding his situation didn't make his attempts to go clean easy.
In 2016, he was arrested by anti-narcotics officers while picking up his fix from a dealer.
He was sent to a drug rehabilitation centre for six months, and placed under home detention for another six months.
"In many ways, it was a turning point. Because there was no access, I was forced to function without drugs. It showed me that I didn't need them to function, and that I was stronger than I thought I was."
Upon his release, he started attending a support group which conducts a 12-step recovery programme for addicts, and became active in the group.
He suffered three relapses during this period. "It seems so counter-intuitive and illogical, doesn't it?" he says, chuckling at the irony.
"But addiction is a baffling disease. It's the only one which tells us we do not have a problem. It's like a defence mechanism. Each time we feel pain, we feel the need to numb it immediately."
Even though he was practising the methods he was taught, mastering them took time, with the risks of a relapse ever present.
"Many people see relapse as a sign of failure, but relapse can help us realise what our triggers are and learn how to do things differently."
The pivotal point in his journey took place when he went to a recovery meeting after getting a fix in July last year.
"I was sweating and paranoid and everyone at the meeting knew I hadn't slept for days. But no one judged me... If these people could love and accept me at my worst, there was no reason why I can't love and accept myself."
That realisation, he says, changed everything.
"I completely lost the desire to use drugs anymore. I knew I could do better."
He has not looked back since.
Among other things, he started chairing meetings at the support group, sponsoring addicts and working with community organisations on recovery programmes, as well as visiting hospitals to talk about addiction and recovery.
He also completed a science-based recovery course called Smart Recovery so that he could offer it to addicts in Singapore, and hopes to enrol in a counselling course soon.
As he became immersed in community work, he started identifying loopholes he could plug.
"There are a lot of outfits, especially for LGBTs (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender), which offer services which are relevant and good. But they are underfunded and work in silos," says Mr Tan, who still draws a decent income as a director in the business he set up .
That's when he decided to set up The Greenhouse in Rowell Road.
"It's a safe place for things to grow," he says, explaining the choice of name. "We wanted a more integrated approach by offering all recovery programmes under one roof."
To finance his project, he sold his car and rented out his apartment in the east. He moved back to live with his mother, who worked with him to set up The Greenhouse.
He says she felt guilt over what she subjected him to and was relieved to have him back.
His father died two years ago.
"My mother and I put in $70,000 to set up and run this place.
"I wanted her to be involved so that she knows what I'm doing," says Mr Tan, adding that he intends to apply for government grants and raise funds for The Greenhouse.
Over the past year, more than 80 addicts have benefited from its programmes.
"Many of them were broken, ashamed and didn't know how to function. I can't describe what it feels like to see them opening up and accepting themselves for who they are," says Mr Tan, who is unattached.
He hopes to grow The Greenhouse into more than just an addiction-recovery centre, but one which offers programmes such as yoga, meditation and other wellness initiatives.
"I want it to be a safe place for people to be themselves and take care of themselves, a place where they can develop a support network which will help them manage in times of crisis.
"That way, they won't think of taking drugs when trouble comes."

 

[Guest Guest]

I wish him well) 

Thanks for the post 

[briax]

 

The Greenhouse is a substance addiction recovery centre for marginalised communities in Singapore who find it hard to seek help out of shame or fear of discrimination. We are conducting a survey in order to understand drug use amongst GBQ men better.

 

This survey was developed in consultation with Action for AIDS, Lifeline, Oogachaga, SMART Recovery and GBQ-friendly social workers and public health professionals. Your participation in this confidential and anonymous survey will help us design better intervention and prevention programmes.

 

Please visit https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/TheGreenhouseSurvey to take the survey now.

 

Do contact our research team at info@thegreenhouse.sg should you have any feedback or questions.

 

Gratefully yours,
The Greenhouse Research Team
Alaric Tan, Bryan Choong and Rayner Tan

 

 

[briax]

Hi all,

 

thank you to those who have seen and responded to the survey. The survey is still open and we want to hear from you.

 

 

[briax]

Would you like to help The Greenhouse develop our programmes for gay, bisexual and queer men? 

Please participate in this online survey. https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/TheGreenhouseSurvey

 

Do visit our newly launched website or Facebook page to find out about our work.

 

 

 

[briax]

More than 300 gay, bisexual and queer men have helped us in this survey. 

 

Hope you can spare 5 to 10 min of your time to help in the Greenhouse survey. https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/TheGreenhouseSurvey

 

thank you all advance.

Edited July 30, 2019 by briax

[briax]

We still need another 100 participants in this survey. We want to achieve that target.

 

Please take 5 to 10 min of your time to help in the Greenhouse survey. https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/TheGreenhouseSurvey

[briax]

The Greenhouse still need another 100 participants in our first ever online survey. We want to achieve that target. Please take 5 to 10 min of your time to help in the Greenhouse survey. https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/TheGreenhouseSurvey

[briax]

Alaric Tan pens a heartfelt letter to seek support for The Greenhouse, an LGBT drug addiction recovery center that he founded.

 

As I crouched in a corner of my apartment, alone and in the dark, waiting for the police to ram down my main door and arrest me, I was fully aware that I was paranoid, but completely unable to snap out of it.

 

I could not remember the last time I had eaten or slept, nor how much drugs I had consumed in the past week. My mind and body had caved in to the stress. All of my senses were terrifyingly amplified – every tiny sound made me jump, every movement was a strain. I was severely dehydrated from sweating too much, but completely incapable of the simple act of turning on the tap and taking a drink.

 

I had spent 8 of the past 16 years trying really hard to get better. I was fortunate enough to be able to see the best doctors. But even though I tried everything, nothing seemed to work.

My life had become a nightmare from which I could not wake. My friends and family did not know what to do with me anymore. And even my boyfriend of 14 years had given up in frustration. He said to me one day: I don’t believe that you really want to stop using drugs. I think you say that just to make yourself feel better so you can continue using.

 

 

Dear Straight People,

 

As I sit here writing this today, I can’t help but be deeply grateful that so much has changed.

 

Against all odds, I eventually managed to overcome my drug addiction. My recovery was so hard-won that I knew what I had to do. I knew there were others like me out there who wanted to get better. I stopped driving, moved back in with my mother and rented out my apartment to secure the funds I needed to set up a substance addiction recovery centre for marginalised communities named The Greenhouse. 

 

As founder of The Greenhouse, I meet people like me everyday. People whose parents were seldom around or who were fighting all the time. People who were physically, verbally or emotionally abused or sexually assaulted. People who were bullied, discriminated against or rejected, often by their own parents. People who feel ashamed of their sexual orientation because they were told that it is bad and can be changed.

 

Even though we come from different families, different schools, different races, our experiences are all the same – we’ve all been through some form of trauma; we drink and use to numb the pain. Addiction has little to do with drugs or alcohol – addiction is about pain from shame, abuse and rejection.

 

The Greenhouse has been operating for 2 years now. There has been a 10-fold increase in demand for our services since we first started. We believe that this is just the tip of the iceberg. As we mark the first 100 people who have come through our doors seeking help, there are things I feel a need to say.

 

I’ve been deeply dismayed by some of the remarks that have been made about LGBT people who struggle with substance addiction, often by other LGBT people.

‘Addiction is a choice’

‘We are a disgrace to our community’

We deserve to just overdose and die.

 

It isn’t the lack of understanding that disturbs me, but the lack of willingness to understand. Having been judged and discriminated against all our lives as marginalised people, haven’t we learnt the need to be patient and compassionate toward people whose struggles we don’t always get?

 

The struggle with pain, with shame, with rejection is a human struggle that we of all people should understand. If we can’t even love and accept each other, how can we possibly expect love and acceptance from others?

 

I remember the day that everything changed for me so clearly. The day I finally understood the power of peer support.

 

I turned up for an LGBT addiction recovery meeting after using. There was simply no way to hide the awful state that I was in. I had not eaten or slept for a week again. I sat there sweating and paranoid, completely ashamed of myself. Yet not a single person at that meeting judged me – there was only care and concern in their eyes. For the first time in my life, I felt loved and accepted. For the first time in my life, I no longer felt alone. If this room of strangers could love and accept me at my worst, there was no reason for me not to love and accept myself. 

 

The desire to use drugs was completely lifted from that moment onwards. There was simply no pain to numb anymore. These people believed me when I said that I wanted to stop using drugs. These people believed me when I said that I wanted to get better. This was the seed that bore The Greenhouse – we are a safe space, free from judgement and discrimination, where we will love, accept and believe in each other until we learn to love, accept and believe in ourselves.

 

I believe that the love, acceptance and support we offer each other is life-giving and can bring real healing and change to our LGBT community, and not just to those who struggle with addiction. I believe that it will make us freer, happier and more resilient.

 

The Greenhouse has faced many challenges over the years. It has taken the tireless contribution of many volunteers to maintain operations. We run 6 meetings a week and provide assessment, counselling, case management and referral services. We get better at what we do with every case that we handle. Against all odds, our centre is surviving. Against all odds, more and more of us are recovering from our addictions and thriving. Yet the biggest challenge that we face remains. It is very hard for us to secure financial support. 

 

One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was come out publicly as a recovering drug addict. But my mother and I have already spent $100k of our personal savings setting up and maintaining The Greenhouse – we know that we cannot continue the work that we’re doing without asking for help. It is for this reason that we recently launched our first fundraising campaign.

 

We believe in the value of the work that we’re doing and hope that you will too.

 

Almost all of us at The Greenhouse are LGBT, with about half of us also HIV+. I’ve lost count of the number of people who broke down in relief when I explained that addiction is not a moral failing and that recovery is possible. It’s so hard to describe what it’s like to see those who come to us broken and ashamed heal from their pain. To see them slowly let down their guard and learn to trust and love again.

 

People who overcome addiction are some of the most humble, patient, loving and grateful people you’ll ever meet. Many of us go on to be of service to others. We help others recover from addiction as a way of paying it forward. We are good people who want to get better. And we need your love, acceptance and support as much as anyone else.

 

Please help us take care of our own.

Keep our addiction recovery centre running!

More information about The Greenhouse SG

 

Thank you Dear Straight People for featuring The Greenhouse.

 

 

[bk-sg]

Happy new year everyone.

 

Anyone thinking of contributing to a good cause in this New Year can consider The GreenHouse, an Addiction Recovery Center catering to the LGBT community.

 

Founded by Alaric, they has just launched their fundraising campaign for 2021 at

https://thegreenhouse.give.asia/2021

 

Any amount you donate is deeply appreciated as it would allow the individuals they treat to remain in recovery and would allow them to help more people recover

 

If you want to know more about The Greenhouse, go to

https://thegreenhouse.sg/

https://www.facebook.com/thegreenhouse.sg/

 

You can read up to understand why Alaric Tan started this group at

https://mothership.sg/2020/02/alaric-tan-the-greenhouse/

[LetsGo]

Alaric and the folks at the GreenHouse have been helping perons in the LGTB community recover from addiction. Addiction hits minority groups particularly hard, and our community is particularly vulnerable to addiction. We all have a friend or know someone who has succumbed. Many are ashamed and carry guilt about their addictive behaviour. As a first step, we should all recognise that addiction is a mental health disorder - and recovering persons need treatment and our help, just like someone with a physical health disorder, like diabetes, needs treatment and help. Judgement and imprisonment do not help or treat them. So the next step is to help organisations like the GreenHouse help our community. Any amount we can donate is good, every bit counts, and every effort is appreciated.

[wilfgene]

Kindly check out the thread 'Let's Help Bali'.

[Guest Six]

Good move to help society 

 

Is this targeted specifically to lgbt community? Just wondering

[bk-sg]

As far as I am aware,  they will accept anyone with substance problems, but most of them are LGBT.  Actual figures I am not sure.

[LetsGo]

Addiction is a mental health condition, and persons affected by it need help and treatment. Not judgement, and certainly not condemnation. All of us in this community will know of someone - a loved one, a friend, a neighbour or a co-worker - who has been affected. If you ever need help for yourself or someone you care about, remember the Greenhouse

[Guest Guest]

On 1/6/2021 at 10:34 PM, wilfgene said:

Kindly check out the thread 'Let's Help Bali'.

 

At least this one is located in Sg with a proper UEN number which may be indicative of some possibility of government checks and controls. The Bali one .... errrrrr 

[GachiMuchi]

No one aspires to be an addict, so why do people start on drugs? Former meth addict explains.

Stories of Us: A former drug addict talks about how he turned his life around and why drug addiction and abuse belies a deeper cause for concern.

Joshua Lee |  May 02, 2022, 09:53 PM

Alaric's story was originally published on February 23, 2020. Details pertaining to his rehabilitation centre, The Greenhouse, have been updated in this article. 

 

Alaric Tan's first taste of meth was surreal.

 

"It hit my brain like a bomb. I just immediately perked up. I was extremely alert, just... incredibly aware of everything that was happening around me. It gave me a sense of confidence and assurance that was extremely unreal."

 

"I felt like I could do anything in the world," says the 43-year-old, who today runs The Greenhouse, a substance recovery centre for marginalised communities.

Operational for close to five years now, the recovery centre occupies a nondescript two-storey brick house in central Singapore.

Its spartan interiors are furnished with just the barest essentials — a couch and a television occupy the room we're in. A poster exhorts the dangers of drugs — health problems, relationship breakdowns, and a huge drain on finances, just to name a few.

It's a litany of difficulties Tan is acutely familiar with, having been through a 20-year journey of drug abuse, addiction, devastation, and finally, redemption.

 

Inside The Greenhouse: Posters like these line the walls, reminding clients that the long term consequences of drugs far outweigh the short term gains. Image by Joshua Lee.

 

First introduced to Ecstasy when he was 21

 

Tan was first introduced to drugs, specifically half an Ecstasy (MDMA) tablet, on his 21st birthday in a Bangkok gay club.

If it wasn't for a close friend who assured him that half a tablet wasn't a big deal, the self-professed "prim and proper" young man wouldn't have even given it a second look.

The effects, he says, were life-changing.

 

"I've always walked around with the sense that there's something wrong with me, that I should be ashamed of myself, that I was never good enough. All those feelings just completely melted away the moment the effects hit me."

 

The effects of Ecstasy — an overwhelming surge in confidence and empathy — were extremely intoxicating, even more so for someone who had been beating himself up for years over his sexuality.

Tan cannot recall when he started identifying as a homosexual, but remembers his parents — a civil servant and a secretary — sending him for a 12-month-long Christian conversion therapy programme (a mix of pseudoscience, prayer, and worship, he says) when he was 16.

Subsequently, he had to attend weekly sessions with a psychologist for his severe social anxiety and depression which, ironically, was brought on by the attempt to "pray the gay away".

And while Tan's conversion therapy was a spectacular failure, it taught him something:

 

"Unless I was exactly what (my parents) wanted me to be, it's not okay. I felt very rejected."

 

A dog that had been beaten -- that's what Tan likens his past self to -- crippled by anxiety and self-loathing.

"When people try to get close to them, they will run away because they're afraid that they're going to be hit with a stick. I did not feel safe," he says, as he fidgets with his fingers.

It's clear that Tan's anxiety still sticks with him, but he recognises and acknowledges it — a shadow that he has learned to live with and embrace ("I think that it makes me relatable.").

 

From "successful user" to addiction

 

At first, Tan's drug use was restricted to the occasional Ecstasy, Marijuana and Ketamine, which he would only indulge in when he was in Bangkok.

He was, by his definition, a "successful user" who was very particular about how much and how often he used.

 

"I could party all weekend and still drive to work on Monday and chair meetings. I could run into roadblocks and have a chat with the police officer who suspected nothing."

 

But as with all addictions, his usage grew steadily from four times a year to once a month, and then twice a week.

A drug user builds tolerance to the drugs over time so he would require more and more just to reach the same high, explains Tan.

Even then, it was a "manageable" habit, he says, right up to the point he started taking methamphetamine ("a totally different kettle of fish altogether").

Even before he started using meth, Tan says he was well aware of the dangers associated with this incredibly addictive drug.

But in 2008, he was in between jobs and, overwhelmed by uncertainty, he took the opportunity offered by a close friend to give meth a try.

 

"I got hooked on it really, really fast. I went from being an occasional user to a daily user within a matter of months."

 

Aside from meth, Tan was also addicted to GHB (Gamma-hydroxybutyrate) and had to depend on an hourly dosage of 1ml just to go about his day.

 

"I physically could not get out of bed unless I took the drugs. So when I woke up I had to smoke meth and take GHB. It took me like, an hour to put myself in the right frame of mind to crawl out of bed."

 

Tan's addiction was so severe that he was compelled to bring his drugs around with him. It was dangerous — drug possession can earn you a 10-year jail sentence in Singapore — but Tan didn't care.

Without his regular doses, his mood would crash and he would quickly find himself overwhelmed by paranoia, fear, and anxiety.

 

"I would think people were watching me, following me. I would think that people were out to harm me."

 

Once, he passed out from a GHB overdose in public and had to be sent home by (thankfully) his partner.

What was once a silver bullet for his shame and anxiety became a crutch that he hated.

Despite multiple attempts to quit — through counselling and even a detox programme in Chiang Mai — years of addiction made it near impossible. He even managed to convinced himself that he didn't really want to kick the habit.

 

A lightbulb moment

 

It all came crashing down when he was arrested in February 2016 and did a six-month stint at Singapore's Drug Rehabilitation Centre in Changi Prison. Being forced to be clean for six months gave him hope that recovery was possible.

Later in October, Tan joined a 12-step recovery programme that had a peer support component. That would turn out to be the missing piece in his recovery process.

But of course, it wasn't that easy. After his release from prison, he suffered three relapses. The third was especially severe, but he says it was a turning point for him.

 

"I used drugs for a week without eating or sleeping and I went to a recovery meeting and I was high, I was paranoid, I was sweating and ashamed. The strangest thing happened. I realised that not a single person in the room judged me. They understood what I was going through. I felt safe for the first time."

 

It was a lightbulb moment for Tan.

Being with people who who have been through the same traumas and are working through the same issues is essential for recovery, he says.

"When we can see for ourselves that others are getting better, it's living proof that recovery is possible."

Within eight months, Tan managed to stop using drugs completely. Even the cravings went away.

 

"No one aspires to be a drug addict"

 

Conventional wisdom dictates that people turn to drugs because they make them feel good, but Tan disagrees.

 

"What's so not good about our lives that we want to feel good so much that we would endanger everything else? We think we want to feel good but no, we just want to stop feeling bad."

 

Addiction, says Tan, is a mental health issue. It is a coping mechanism to deal with trauma, pain and unhappiness.

"No one aspires to be a drug addict," he explains.

In Tan's case, being in recovery has allowed him to see that his years of drug abuse was an attempt to handle (rather unsuccessfully) his deep unhappiness and pain as a gay man.

Gay men, says Tan, are highly susceptible to drug use, be it for personal use or sex, because it helps them get over various inhibitions, both conscious and subconscious:

 

"Shame over our bodies, the fact that we're not quite okay about being gay, the fact that we feel like a failure, the fact that we don't feel that we're allowed to be authentic, that people judge us, that we are criminals, all of these things are there."

 

In fact, Tan says everyone who comes to him at The Greenhouse point to at least one of these triggers of their addiction: broken or dysfunctional families, physical, mental, emotional or sexual abuse, guilt and shame over sexual orientation, bullying and discrimination in schools, and internalised homophobia.

 

Paying it forward... for free

 

It was Tan's personal recovery process that prompted him to "pay it forward" by starting his own recovery centre.

In July 2017, he did just that, running substance recovery programmes for marginalised communities, including LGBT folks.

The stories he heard from his clients have reinforced his conviction that his recovery programme is all the more needed for this vulnerable community.

He shares one story of a client whose father pushed him down the stairs when he found out he — a recovering drug addict — was a homosexual.

"I don't feel that people who have never had such an experience have the right to say that we use drugs for a good time," says Tan resolutely. "I don't think they understand what they're talking about."

 

Inside The Greenhouse: A mini garden sits in the recovery centre, maintained by one of its clients. Image by Joshua Lee.

 

Clients who come to The Greenhouse are usually first assessed to establish their usage pattern, before Tan helps them explore the cause of their addiction and come up with a recovery plan.

Over the first two and a half years of operations, the number of people Tan helped grew from 10 to 150.

The number of people who are stepping forward to seek help has remained steady over the years, about two to three per month. Testimonials from clients laud the centre as a safe space that helps them stay grounded and supported in their recovery journey.

 

What's more remarkable is that the service Tan provides is completely free — it runs on donations from clients as well as funds raised by the public. "We don't want to add an additional impediment to those want to seek help," he says.

Since 2017, The Greenhouse has been on an upward trajectory. In December 2020, it attained Charity status in Singapore and in February 2022, it became a full member of the National Council of Social Service.

Thanks to its newly-minted Charity status, financial support for The Greenhouse has increased, not withstanding dollar-for-dollar matching by the Singapore government.

Still, Tan admits that it is difficult to raise funds from the public because his beneficiaries — substance abusers who are LGBT, HIV-positive, and even victims of sexual assault — tend to be "controversial" in many people's eyes.

These marginalised group need plenty of support and Tan is here for them:

 

"It's an upward task. We put together campaigns, we spread the word, we have a lot of testimonials from people who have done very well. But it's really hard to bring in the money to keep the centre going. There's a lot of stigma and a lot of education that need to be done."

 

Despite this, Tan is plowing on for his cause, not just for the people he continues to help but for himself as well.

Today, he is more than four years clean, and has a thriving relationship with his mother. It's a stage he never thought he would arrive at at just six years ago.

 

"I thought life would still be extremely challenging to live but I'm much less anxious, stressed, and unhappy."

Edited May 3, 2022 by GachiMuchi