Reclaiming Identity From Your Past

Recovery is more than quitting drugs or alcohol. It’s also about rediscovering who you are underneath all the labels, judgments, and survival strategies.

As the Regional Area Director at Mirror, Inc., Gordon Smith is a guiding presence for those in recovery and reentry. But long before the titles and credentials, he lived a life ruled by addiction, incarceration, and identity shaped by survival. For years, he says, he was just trying to fit into the only mold he knew: the one people expected.

“I was always different,” Gordon says, recalling his childhood. “After [my parent’s] divorce, I had to go to school on a different side of town. And in that, seeking acceptance became one of my primary motives because I didn’t feel accepted there, even though now I looked like everybody else. I didn’t get treated the same.”

From a young age, he used violence, drugs and performance to gain acceptance. Gordon lived through a lot of violence during his youth and it resulted in him walking down the path of substance use, starting with marijuana and alcohol. His identity soon became wrapped up in that type of world, engaging with people and places that validated the persona he was trying to live up to. Prison didn’t scare him.

“The people that I was around absolutely influenced my desire to want to be part of that lifestyle,” Gordon said. “And then there were a lot of things that attracted me to that lifestyle, having money, being able to get it easily, not really having to work but working… I kind of leaned into it since my first incarceration wasn’t really this super unpleasant experience. So utilizing violence as a tool of the trade, being accepted within incarceration was not a challenging thing.”

For Gordon, the problem wasn’t just addiction. It was also an identity crisis.

“Everything was really reactionary… instinct even, or whatever you want to call it,” he said. “A lot of things happened that really built up character traits that I did not possess before entering this period of my life. So what happened was I drove myself insane using substances and I looked up one day and didn’t know where I was at or who I was or what I was doing.”

Eventually, Gordon was transferred to a treatment facility for rehabilitation, one he had been to previously but without the focus of treating mental health at the same time. He wasn’t escorted in expecting change. He expected judgment and found something different.

“When they transport somebody, there’s this detail that goes with them,” Gordon explained. “So I’m shackled up, I’m in the jumpsuit still, and people have their weapons drawn… and I can remember seeing one of the counselors there and he comes up to me while I’m still shackled, everybody’s standing around like they’re taking Hannibal Lecter somewhere and he says, ‘Hey Gordon, it’s really good to see you again, man! I’m glad you made it back.’ And him treating me like a human in that space, with all these other things saying ‘you should be treading lightly around me’… this person treated me like a human and that was impactful to me. And so when this guy said things and when this guy called me to think about certain things in my treatment, I really took those things seriously.”

Gordon had to answer some difficult questions about himself in a way he had never committed to previously at this point in his life. That same counselor had asked questions of Gordon, ones he had been avoiding, ones that terrified him more than jail time ever could. These are questions that didn’t have answers, but for the first time, those answers were being sought after.

“One of the questions he asked throughout my treatment process was, ‘Who are you? What do you believe in? What do you value? What do you stand for?’” Gordon says. “He asked me these questions and I can remember seriously thinking about this. Where have I been? What have I done?… I hadn’t done anything with my life at that point. I was 33 years old at the time. And not being able to look at my life and see anything kind of hurt. I felt pretty low.”

All of this honesty meant confronting how deeply stigma had impacted not just how the world saw him, but how he saw himself. Gordon described access to support systems he didn’t use during this part of his life. He was raised going to church as a young boy and he didn’t feel comfortable leaning onto that during times of need. His grandmother was the safest person he knew, always praying for him, always accepting him even through times he ”was in the hot seat again”.

“There have been populations that I have struggled to work with, had to look at my own personal biases and beliefs and try to check those at the door before I engage with people,” Gordon said. “And these things, they can be overcome within us, but it’s each person’s responsibility to have a desire to, rather than be fearful, be curious. Be curious. I try to see who’s in front of me and I try to remember: this is a person. That’s it. This is a person that I don’t know, and I’d like to get to know. And what I’ve learned about people has been so incredible.”

That approach—human first, labels last—is a growing intentionality Gordon is making within himself. It’s at the core of how he leads. It’s why he greets every new individual at the facility he works at by name. It’s why he walks through the treatment doors and joins groups. It’s why he shares his story so openly: because he knows exactly what it feels like to be judged by a piece of paper, or a prison record, or a tattoo.

“I started this process with a lot of anxiety, with a lot of fear and not knowing up from down,” Gordon said. “One of the things that I did not believe before I got to this point [was] that people cared about you specifically. The way I lived, it’s dog-eat-dog world, so having a whole profession built around helping people experience exactly that, people genuinely wanting to help me and people genuinely wanting to hear me, brought me here.”

What’s started as a painful breakdown of identity has become one of Gordon’s greatest strengths. Today, he helps others rebuild, not into someone else’s idea of success, but into themselves.

“It gets greater later,” Gordon says. “Just keep putting the next best foot forward. You’ll get to it.”

Are you prepared to take that first step towards an open mind? Here’s how you can help:

• See People First, Not Paperwork: Remember that resumes and records don’t tell the whole story. Ask yourself, “Who is this person today?”

   

• Challenge Stigma Where You Hear It: Whether it’s comments about addiction, incarceration, or appearance—speak up. Your voice can disrupt shame.
• Say Someone’s Name: If you work in treatment, reentry, or support services, work towards greeting every client by name. It makes more a difference than you think.
• Encourage Human-First Interactions in the Justice System: Whether you work in law enforcement, the courts, or community services, remember how far kindness goes. Just one counselor treating Gordon “like a human” made all the difference.

Gordon didn’t just push through recovery. He found out who he was, and who he never needed to be again. If you want to share your story or support someone else’s, add your voice to “Human: A Project by PARS Topeka” by contacting (785) 266-8666 or emailing info@parstopeka.org.