You can rise again: Recovery is possible for those who are ready

My name is Luis Soto — a man of God, born and raised in Puerto Rico.

In 1993, I came to the United States to live with my sister and to be close to my son, who was already here with his mom. I moved into a room in Kensington. My sister worked at a bar, and I worked for a landscaping company. I was 21 years old.

I came to America chasing the American Dream. But one Friday, I came home and found my youngest child, “Little Lou,” not breathing in his crib. He never woke up.

I was devastated and angry. Hate took over my heart. I didn’t know how to deal with that pain. Heroin, crack — anything you put in front of me, I was using. That was the start of a long and painful cycle: years in and out of county jails, programs, and institutions — including 11 years in state prison.

For people struggling with addiction, there’s always something — a moment, a loss, a tragedy — that leads them there. In those moments of vulnerability, it’s easy to listen to the wrong voice. Someone says, “Use this, you’ll feel better, you’ll forget everything.” And you believe it.

I started visiting under the bridge at 2nd and Indiana and sleeping on the streets. I would go to a shelter or a program, and then on Friday, I was out because it was payday. That was my mentality. Deep down, I knew help existed — but I wasn’t ready.

I was not ready!

Every person has to make that decision themselves. You have to decide, “I’m done with this.” Most people out there know where to go and who to ask for help. They might not have a phone, but they can find one. It’s about making that choice.

I got “stuck in Kensington” for a while, and then I was arrested and sent to State Road and back to a Pennsylvania state prison. When I got out in 2010, they placed me in a halfway house. 

I was doing well because I had already decided not to go back.

I told myself, “If I don’t go back to that lifestyle, I don’t have to worry about prison.”

I started going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings. I would sit in the front, pay attention, read the literature, and share. But I wasn’t perfect. Soon I began complaining, stirring up negativity. And I was still using drugs. The director called my parole officer, and she said she had to move me — either back to prison or somewhere on my “home plan.”

The “home plan” is the form where you list where you’ll go after release — a recovery house, a shelter, a relative’s home. I had been carrying a small piece of paper in my wallet since prison that said, “Everything Must Change Through Divine Light.” I had written down the name and address of a recovery home with that name.

After January 1, 2011, I never went back. On January 5, I went to the Divine Light Recovery Home in Southwest Philly — a house with 43 men.

It was the best place for me. The best bed. TVs everywhere with cable. Great food. It was exactly where I needed to be, in my desperation, to find a way out.

I told myself, “I have to follow the rules. I have to let someone help me, because this is new to me.”

I got a mentor who said, “I believe in you. I see something in you.” He was a Black man from Baltimore named Steven — my brother to this day.

I’ve always believed in God — that came from my mother and father. My mother was Catholic, my father Pentecostal. But when I got to Divine Light, I found my own understanding of God. I found my own answers reading the Bible, and that’s what I live by now.

I am a proud member of Narcotics Anonymous to this day — and will be for life. Now I have a home group, and I serve others.

In 2013, I earned my certifications as a Certified Peer Specialist (CPS) and Certified Recovery Specialist (CRS) and began working in the behavioral health field that same year.

In 2023, I completed my associate’s degree in Human Services — a dream come true.

Since 2019, I’ve worked for the City of Philadelphia, and today I proudly serve as an assistant program manager for the Police Assisted Diversion (PAD) Program under the Office of Public Safety. In this role, I help connect justice-involved individuals to care, treatment, and hope.

While I founded Inspirando Latinos, Inc. back in 2013, I officially registered it as a nonprofit organization in November 2024. I currently serve as its founder and president. Through this organization, we empower Latinos through education, recovery support, reentry programs, sports, wellness events, and community outreach.

I also manage two men' s sports teams — Los Pacíficos (softball) and The Peacemakers (basketball). These teams are more than just sports; they are ministries of healing, unity, and discipline for young men in our community.

It’s not easy working with youth. When I was their age, no one could tell me anything — especially not an “old head.” I wish I could go back in time and listen to those who tried to guide me.

Above all titles, achievements, and responsibilities, what defines me most is that I am — and will always be — a servant of God. My life is proof that no matter how far you fall, with faith, love, and purpose, you can rise again.

And I couldn’t have done it without God’s grace and the unwavering love of my family — especially my wife, who has been my rock, my covering, and my biggest supporter through every storm and every victory. To my children and loved ones: everything I do, I do with you in my heart.

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