Where Recovery Becomes a Lifeline
- Wolfe Street Foundation
- Jan 26
- 3 min read
Junko Jordon measures time differently now.
On February 6, 2026 - God willing, as she puts it - she will mark three years in recovery. But the numbers tell only part of the story. What matters more is how she shows up: as a mother rebuilding relationships with her sons, as a Peer Recovery Support Specialist at Wolfe Street Foundation, and as someone who understands - deeply - that recovery is not just about survival. It’s about becoming whole again.
“I believe our struggles can become our greatest strengths,” Junko says. “Recovery taught me that honesty, open-mindedness, and community aren’t just nice ideas. they’re lifelines.”
At Wolfe Street, Junko walks alongside people who are often standing at the very edge of hope. As a Peer Recovery Support Specialist, she draws on her lived experience to offer more than resources—she offers proof. Proof that recovery is possible. Proof that shame does not get the final word. Proof that a life once fractured can be rebuilt.
Her path to Wolfe Street, however, wasn’t straightforward.
Before joining the Wolfe Street team, Junko was already sober, but largely alone. She worked the steps. She went to meetings. She did the hard, unglamorous work of early recovery while navigating wage garnishment, a suspended driver’s license, and painful separation from her children. She stayed sober, but belonging still felt just out of reach.
“I was carrying a lot of shame,” she reflects. “I needed community, purpose, and a place that saw my potential - not just my past.”
That experience shapes everything about how Junko shows up today.
She knows what it feels like to sit in early recovery with the weight of the world pressing down. She understands the fear that you’ve burned too many bridges, that the life you want might be permanently out of reach. When someone walks through Wolfe Street’s doors feeling hopeless, Junko can look them in the eye and say, without hesitation: I’ve been there. And I’m still here.
“My struggles give me credibility,” she says. “But more importantly, they give me compassion.”
It’s that compassion - unfiltered and fiercely human - that makes Wolfe Street feel different to Junko. “Here, people don’t have to pretend or perform,” she explains. “We show up as we are—messy, imperfect, still figuring it out—and that’s not just accepted. It’s honored.”
At Wolfe Street, recovery is understood as non-linear. There is no hierarchy of worth. No expectation to have it all together. Just an invitation to keep showing up. “That kind of grace changes lives,” Junko says.
Her desire to turn pain into purpose is also what drew her to the Community Events Planning Committee. For Junko, recovery should hold space not only for grief and healing, but also for joy.
That belief was on full display at Wolfe Street’s New Year’s Eve party. Junko remembers the laughter, the dancing, the gratitude in the room from families present with their children.
“Everyone there had fought battles just to be in that space,” she says. “You could feel the hope. It reminded me we’re not just surviving - we’re actually living.”
She’s especially excited about an upcoming initiative she’s helping to shape: a recurring Welcome to Alumni Celebration, honoring participants who complete Phase I and Phase II of Wolfe Street’s educational groups. The goal is simple but powerful - to celebrate progress, create pride, and welcome participants into the WolfePack with intention and joy.
For Junko, recovery today means showing up honestly. Asking for help. Believing she is worthy of good things - not because she’s perfect, but because she’s human and trying.
“I want to be the person I needed when I was fresh in recovery,” she says.
One moment at Wolfe Street stays with her more than most: watching someone walk in with nothing - no resources, no hope - and helping them take their first steps forward. Clothing. Food. An ID. A bus pass. Their first meeting.
“Watching the light come on in their eyes when they realize they’re going to be okay,” Junko says quietly. “That moment never gets old. It’s why I do this work.”
If there’s one thing she wishes more people understood about recovery, it’s this: people in recovery are not broken. They are resilient. Brave. Self-aware. Courageous enough to face their demons and rebuild their lives from the ground up.
“Your story isn’t over,” Junko says.
“If mine can give one person hope, then every hard day was worth it.” At Wolfe Street, Junko’s story has become exactly what she once needed herself - a lifeline.
Want to learn more about Peer Support or upcoming community events at Wolfe Street?
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