From the chains of addiction to the gift of sobriety: 4 York County recovery stories

To the untrained eye, addiction resembles erratic behavior, played out in various forms of desperation for the next high.

Moments often intertwined with pain and suffering, and for many − a desire for redemption.

For some, addiction can and does last forever and even proves fatal. And for some, the challenging yet rewarding road to recovery becomes a guided journey to a new life, steeped in healing, gratitude and new beginnings.

Following are the stories of four people with Central Pennsylvania ties who have battled addiction − and the gratitude they have for their sobriety this holiday season.

Sofie Zhang:

'I remember wishing I had the courage to end it all'

In 2001, Sofie Zhang moved to the United States from China. First to Virginia, and a few years later to York.

Her mother had already been living in the states, with the original goal of one day moving her family to Canada. But life had other plans.

Zhang had lived with her father in China but decided to follow her mother, even if it meant moving to a new country.

By the time she was 13, she was living in York, learning a second language and hoping to fit in, to be accepted in a place where she looked and felt different. And even when her communication skills advanced, the feeling of not belonging still lingered.

It was during high school that Zhang began to feel depressed, but that all changed when she was offered a line of an unknown substance at a party in eleventh grade.

“I was struggling with depression at the time and realized how wonderful I felt after doing that line,” she recalled.

She later discovered that the substance she took was OxyContin, a drug used to relieve moderate to severe pain. For Zhang, it did just that, making her feel as if her depression had been temporarily cured.

Several years later, Zhang began abusing heroin, as it was cheaper and easier to access. Her body slowly bruised with track marks.

In 2015, she embarked on her second trip to Beijing since relocating to York.

Sitting on the windowsill of her grandfather's kitchen in their nine-story apartment, she stared out the window late at night. Her life came to a standstill.

“All the cars going by; the world was going on around me – but my life had come to a full stop.” Zhang found herself in the anguish of withdrawal, having just run out of suboxone, a medication used to treat opioid dependence and addiction.

To avoid alarming her family, Zhang tried to play off her discomfort, but her family’s concern led them to seek medical help, which later unveiled the depth of her addiction.

Physically, she was no longer under the influence of drugs and had no desire to do so, but mentally, her obsession was still there.

“I remember wishing I had the courage to end it all,” she said.

Having grown up in a demanding family with no history of addiction, discovering the reality of Zhang's addiction devastated her relatives. “I come from an educated, upper middle class traditional Chinese family,” she said. “They had no idea what addiction is or the horrors it entails.”

She grew up in an environment where she wasn't used to thinking for herself. Her family hoped she would become a lawyer or a doctor, but at 18, Zhang started to decide for herself.

Over time, she lost 11 good friends, 20 acquaintances and one boyfriend due to overdoses.

For a while, no amount of tragedy could make her quit. “Deaths, homelessness, getting arrested … none of it stopped me.”

Eventually, something sparked and she wanted change: a better quality of life for herself, one with opportunities and freedom.

In fall of 2016, Zhang had been sent to rehab after an arrest for 30 days and later joined a recovery house on East Market Street, Sees the Day.

“I had no car and no money," a similar financial position that most recovery house members were in. But for Zhang, this was unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.

“I personally had never been humbled until that point. That’s when the change started taking place,” she said.

Reluctantly, she walked two blocks to the bus stop, the same one she took to work every day to her job at Buffalo Wild Wings.

“I kept my feet moving though,” as she was often told by her sponsor. ”It was one of the happiest times of my life, and I’m forever grateful.”

Even on the coldest winter days, Zhang started to find joy in walking to the bus and even her living situation.

“In those moments of solitude, I started to find out what I was made of.”

Moments she found uncomfortable, or different, were now pleasant.

Zhang was in and out of recovery, spending time in these homes, attending meetings where she experienced immense support from the recovery community, for which she is profoundly grateful.

She met people just like her, whether they were born in a different country, came from a similar background, or faced similar obstacles during their addiction and sobriety.

Now, at 31, Zhang is a mother of two, has a place of her own for the first time, a career working with children, and has been sober for a little over one year.

“I get to be a mom and a provider. I have strong women in my life, in and out of recovery, who see me through my good and bad days, and I get to show up for them in return.”

Tattooed on her left arm are three words: "Remember the Pain," a reminder she looks at daily, motivating her to keep going.

For Zhang, her biggest motivation to continue sobriety is the quality of life she now has. “It still gets hard at times, but I try not to lose sight of all the people and things I have to be thankful for and get to have in my life today.”

David Bryant:

'Addiction is one of the most devastating of illnesses'

David Bryant grew up in Jamestown, New York, an hour south from Buffalo, where he lived with his mother Carolyn Marie.

He was a bright 15-year-old, excelled in school and played sports.

"My mom was 19 when she had me, my dad was 9 years older and in the Army," he said.

Bryant took care of his mom. For years, it was just the two of them, and occasionally any new men she would meet. She was an alcoholic, addicted to valium and other drugs.

"She was married five times, and we moved around: Nebraska, California − we lived everywhere."

One Friday afternoon in September 1971, Bryant stopped home before a football game that night to get changed. He and his mother were living in a trailer at the time. "I came up to the front door, and it was broken. There was blood all over the floor."

He said his mother was mad at their dog and kicked in the door, which cut open her foot. She was inebriated at the time and under the influence of drugs.

"She started screaming and yelling, she was on the phone with our pastor and my dad," said Bryant, who took care of his mother for as long as he could remember.

Frustrated, Bryant said, "I don't even love you anymore," before getting his clothes and heading out to his football game.

"There, I just took a whole bottle of valium," said his mother, who had attempted suicide many times before.

"I didn't believe her," he said. But after checking her pulse, Bryant had panicked, called the ambulance and ran around the trailer park seeking help.

His mother had died, and Bryant struggled to deal with her death.

"I carried the weight of that for a long time; it was my fault for telling her that."

After her death, Bryant continued to live alone in the trailer park, surviving on $29 a month from Social Security and help from his grandmother, who lived several miles away and later supported him through college.

As a teenager, Bryant lived on his own, and with the legal drinking age being 18, he spent his early years finding his way through alcohol and drugs, which were often used for coping to fight his depression.

In 1986, he started The Shadowfax Corporation in York, a nonprofit company that began providing services to people with disabilities. He was the CEO, and although he loved his role, handling a leadership position brought extreme anxiety.

In 1989, Bryant suffered from Bell's Palsy, a condition that causes temporary weakness or paralysis of the muscles in the face.

That's when he got his first prescription of Vicodin, which he became addicted to. For the next several years, Bryant would become addicted to Xanax, OxyContin and Percocet. "Addiction is one of the most devastating of illnesses."

"People say if you just have willpower or just say no you can stop. It's not that easy. I can't tell you how many times I got on my hands and knees and asked God to take it (the addiction) away," he said.

But in 2002, Bryant said it was through the faith of God, his wife Debra Lynn, daughter Kara Lynn, and son Matthew, that he began his journey to sobriety.

From 1997 to 2001 he tried to seek help, and attended around five rehabs, which at first did not help. His life turned around when he was charged in 2002 with stealing money from his company which he lost in investments. He spent 11.5 months in York County Prison, and later did probation, before eventually paying back the money he owed.

"I couldn't blame anybody but myself. They were my decisions; I let a lot of people down." Through more rehab and endless support from his loved ones, friends and members of his church, Bryant started a new chapter.

His wife Deb, who has been with him for over 40 years, said she saw Bryant through all stages of his addiction.

"It was devastating, to see everything happen and break down. But I've always loved him no matter what, and through my faith, we survived everything," she said.

As a family, they would attend group sessions at rehab centers, where they learned about addiction and had resources to help guide Bryant through his recovery.

In 2022, he received a pardon from Gov. Tom Wolf and shared that his need to stay sober was crucial for his pardon, as well as rebuilding the relationships in his life.

"I did a great job of hiding all of the hurt and depression and anxiety through my addiction. I don't want that to happen to anybody. There are programs that are available to help people through their addictions in York County," Bryant said.

A Bible verse from Isaiah 40:31 is marked on his arm:

"but those who hope in the Lord    will renew their strength.They will soar on wings like eagles;    they will run and not grow weary,    they will walk and not be faint."

Bryant has been sober for 22 years. "I wouldn't be here to today without my faith in God, and my family."

Marcus Durham:

'God told me he got me'

Marcus Durham's mother did not think he would live past his thirties.

Growing up in Reading, he lived with his mother and grandparents. Raised in a close-knit family, he went to church, and learned good values early on in life. He was an active child who enjoyed basketball and dancing, but eventually fell into the wrong crowd, later developing bad habits.

"I liked basketball, and I liked to dance," said Durham. "Eventually, basketball led to drinking and smoking, and dancing led me to the wrong crowd."

At 15, Durham, a teenager who just wanted to play sports and dance with his friends, found himself on a path of drugs and alcohol that lasted 17 years.

He hauled garbage for a living. He earned about $30,000 a year, which was a lot back in the '80s, allowing him to afford his addiction.

In 1997, his addiction landed Durham in legal trouble, facing up to nine years in prison for theft.

His mom came to him and said, "Son, if you listened to me, you wouldn't be here." Before his hearing, Durham turned to his faith for help. "I read the Bible, all the way through, and God told me he got me," he said.

After his hearing, Durham spent a little over three months in jail and was sent to rehab for 60 days. He spent time in Colonial House, a recovery home that led him to York.

During his stay, Durham met John Doleman, the father of NFL Hall of Famer Chris Doleman, who was working the late shift that night.

Durham wanted to go home, but Doleman suggested he stay and attend church with him the following Sunday at Bible Tabernacle Christian Center.

"Sunday morning, I held on and went to church, and it changed my life." It was at this church where he would later meet his wife Denise and his sponsor.

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When he had his first daughter, Keisha, Durham wanted to quit drinking and soon realized it wasn't easy. It took him 10 years.

"When I realized I was going to be a dad, I wanted to stop. When you have a child, you have responsibilities," he said.

Eventually, he saw others around him find a way to turn their life around, and he wanted to do the same.

Durham knew he didn't want to go back to prison and would do anything to avoid it. By the time his second daughter, Danielle was born, he had quit for good. He turned to a life of service, faith and gratitude.

He currently runs his own trucking company, Ironman Trucking, where he has a contract with Perdue Chicken. After his routes, he is often left with slightly damaged cases of chicken that he can later donate, and he chooses to give back to the York community and sometimes his hometown.

"I still go back to Reading to the same barber shop where I would get my hair cut, and sometimes free beer − well, now I give free chicken."

Durham is also an elder at Temple of Grace Ministries in York, where he serves as a leader among the congregation. "I was raised in the church, but I walked away. Now that I'm back, I don't want to walk away ever again."

When he's not driving his trucks, spending time with his family, or serving at the church, Durham mentors former addicts and gives back to his community through food distributions and more.

"It's rewarding to be able to give back, and now I have the resources to do it."

Durham has been sober for 26 years.

Laurie Besden:

'I never felt like I was enough'

Laurie Besden grew up in Plymouth Meeting, a small town in Montgomery County.

Her parents were hopeful she and her sister would pursue a career in law or medicine. Besden had everything a child could have wanted, but from a young age she was the kid “every kid got in trouble with.”

She refers to her childhood home as a “two story home” with “one story on the inside and a different story from the outside.”

She got her first taste of drugs at 8 years old when she went to the dentist for a cleaning and was given nitrous oxide. She loved that feeling.

From then on, she continued to ask for laughing gas during cleanings and would eventually take codeine pills for tooth pain.

At the age of 12, she had a couple six packs of beer delivered to her home, and a few cans later, she and her friend were wandering the streets at night before being picked up at 2 a.m. and taken to the police station.

Throughout high school and college, her addictive tendencies persisted. “I tried everything and anything − even when the party ended, I was still there.”

Not feeling comfortable in her own skin, she looked for ways to fill the void.

“I never felt like I was enough. I had to ride it out.” She added, “Everyone says the same thing – when they use a substance, they start to feel better, prettier.”

She wanted to be a cosmetologist but felt pressure from her parents to pursue a career in law, so she attended Dickinson School of Law.

During law school, Besden was in a car accident and was prescribed Vicodin for her pain, furthering her addiction. She later found a doctor who continued to prescribe it throughout her clerkship and while she studied for the bar exam.

She took and passed the Pennsylvania and New Jersey bar exams. Afterwards, she worked for the Pennsylvania Superior Court. The doctor prescribing her pills was indicted, and desperate for more, she continued to find pills by impersonating many doctors and calling in prescriptions. Soon she was taking up to 40 pills a day.

Later came cocaine use.

Strung out on cocaine for days, she had lost hope. Fearing she might die of an overdose, Besden began writing wills because she had a dog at the time.

“I did it to make sure my dog, Louis, was taken care of after my death.”

That's when her mom stepped in and tried to help.

In 2000, Besden was 26 years old and a licensed attorney. Her mom worried deeply for her daughter’s health and believed she was suffering from an eating disorder.

“My mom told me to meet her at what I thought was rehab, and I showed up with 45 munchkins and a dozen doughnuts from Dunkin' Donuts – and ate everything in front of them.”

The consultation took several hours, and in the end, specialists refused to admit her. "If there’s one piece of advice I could give: don’t diagnose someone.”

Between 2002 and 2004, Besden was arrested five times; four times for prescription fraud and once for driving while intoxicated.

“It got to the point where law enforcement would say, ‘This isn’t your first arrest, you’re either going to die or get your life together,’” she said.

Countless individuals tried to give Besden hope, but she could not hear what they were saying. Admittedly, she would have rather died than ask for help.

Throughout her addiction, she caused 29 separate car accidents. They were often minor and resolved swiftly, as she paid the other parties cash damages at the scene rather than involving insurance or authorities.

“I thought eventually I would do enough (drugs) that my heart would stop. I never thought I could make it out to the other side.”

Not knowing anyone in recovery, Besden did not believe anyone in her situation could find a way out. Still, part of her believed there had to be a way out.

In 2004, she was sentenced to 11.5 months in prison by Common Pleas Court Judge William R. Carpenter, also known as her “guardian angel,” who Besden said “saved” her and gave her the option of a new life.

“Now, I text him, I call him, I met his family, and I consider him a close friend. If I need someone to talk to, he’s there,” she said.

She served her first day of that sentence on Jan. 29, 2004, a date that also marked her first day of sobriety. “The only way for me to get sober was in prison, because I couldn’t leave.”

After her release, she went to Wernersville, Pa., to attend a drug and alcohol treatment program that would change her life.

“The recovery community has been by far the most supportive community.”

Fifteen years later, Besden started a new life in Central Pennsylvania and has since been reinstated to practice law.

In 2020, she received a full pardon by Governor Wolf.

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She currently serves as the Executive Director for Lawyers Concerned for Lawyers, speaks at law schools, hosts student hours and teaches judges. In her limited free time, Besden volunteers at the K9 rescue of Central Pa. in Dillsburg, and despite her fear of fire and heights, she is in the process of training with the Hampden Township Volunteer Fire Company.

For five years of her life, first responders responded to her, now it’s her turn, she shared.

She remains active in 12-step fellowships and servicing the recovery community. "We can only keep what we have by giving it away."

Besden refers to her 19 years in sobriety as “borrowed time,” and now she uses every second she can find to help others see “there is life after felonies.”

“I shouldn’t be here, and giving back my time to others reminds me where I came from.”

This article originally appeared on York Daily Record: Thankful for sobriety: 4 from Central Pa. share stories of addiction