Time Is Flying. I’m Learning to Be Here for It.

How is it already October?

September was full. Full of people, conversations, teaching, travel, recovery, and opportunities that I’m still taking in. Now I’m in California, getting ready to speak at the Trauma Resource Institute’s 20th Anniversary Conference, and trying to give myself a minute to appreciate how I got here.

Time is flying. But lately, I’ve noticed that trying to be more present and grounded helps me slow it down just enough to enjoy it. Enough to feel grateful while something is happening, instead of only realizing later how much it meant.

The month began, in many ways, on August 31 with International Overdose Awareness Day. Speaking that day carried a responsibility I take seriously. We were remembering people we love, making room for grief, and continuing the conversation about how we keep people connected to care, support, and one another.

I carried that with me into Recovery Month. Celebration and grief can share the same space. I can be deeply grateful for my recovery and still feel the weight of the people we have lost. Both shape why I keep showing up.

On September 14, I celebrated six years in recovery.

Six years. Even writing that makes me pause.

There are people, relationships, opportunities, and ordinary days in those six years that mean more to me than I can fully explain. Recovery has given me the chance to keep learning who I am, to be useful to others, and to build a life I want to be present for. I’m grateful for everyone who has been part of that. I did not get here by myself.

Throughout September, I had opportunities to bring those experiences into conversations with different communities. At the Help, Hope, Healing Conference in Abingdon, I spoke from the perspective of lived experience about stress, connection, and recovery. At the RAYSAC Prevention Roundtable, the conversation brought together my passion for rural communities, schools, prevention, and practical ways to support well-being.

Coming from rural Southwest Virginia, that work is personal. I care about what support looks like in the places people already live, learn, work, worship, and gather. I care about the people who are doing a great deal for their communities with limited time and resources. And I care about making what we share useful enough that someone can take it home and do something with it.

This fall has also brought me into the classroom at Virginia Tech, teaching Addiction, Recovery, and Family.

That has been a meaningful part of this season. We’ve been talking about the language we use, stigma, the brain and behavior, different ways of understanding addiction, and the people and relationships involved in recovery. I want students to leave with a deeper understanding of the human beings behind the topics we discuss.

Part of that means examining our assumptions. Part means recognizing that people arrive with different experiences, resources, and options. And part means learning to ask better questions before deciding we understand someone else’s life.

Through their projects, students are exploring behavior change and the community supports that can make recovery possible. With our community recovery ecosystem project, they are beginning to look beyond the classroom and consider how organizations, relationships, and everyday spaces contribute to someone’s ability to find support.

Teaching asks me to slow down, too. I have to think carefully about how I explain something, make room for questions, and remember that a concept familiar to me may be brand new to someone else. It keeps me learning.

Alongside teaching, I’m continuing my doctoral work and my work with the Center for Rural Education. Those experiences keep bringing me back to the importance of listening—to people’s stories, to the places they call home, and to what they say they need. There is so much knowledge already living in our communities. I want the work I do to honor that.

Through The Re.Center, I’m also continuing to build relationships and create opportunities for people to connect through coaching, workshops, speaking, and community gatherings. The conversations about shared community space and what we might build together have given me a lot to think about and look forward to.

There are plenty of details still to work through. I’m learning to appreciate the process of building something, including the conversations and small steps that happen long before there is a finished result to show.

And now, California.

Beginning October at the Trauma Resource Institute’s 20th Anniversary Conference feels meaningful after a month like September. I’m grateful for the opportunity to share some of our work in higher education and community settings, reconnect with people, and learn from what others are doing.

The Community Resiliency Model has become part of both my work and my own practice of noticing what helps me feel more grounded. Sharing these skills also reminds me to make room to use them myself.

I can get moving pretty fast. Anyone who knows me knows there is usually another idea, another meeting, or another possibility I want to explore. Sometimes my mind is three steps ahead of wherever my feet are.

So I’m practicing.

Feeling my feet on the floor. Looking around and noticing something pleasant. Paying attention when my body feels a little more settled. Letting a good conversation stay with me for a moment before reaching for the next task.

Sometimes it is as ordinary as a walk with Kobe or time with Kyla. Sometimes it is pausing after a class or a community event and letting myself take in what just happened.

Those moments matter. They help me enjoy the life happening around the work, too.

I want to be present enough to enjoy the life I’ve worked so hard to build.

I’m still learning how to do that. Some days come more easily than others. But I’m noticing that gratitude becomes easier to feel when I give myself a little room to notice what is already here.

To everyone who shared space with me this past month, trusted me with their story, welcomed me into their community, learned alongside me, or helped make this work possible: thank you.

Recovery Month has ended. The relationships and the work continue. So do the chances to check on someone, make room for a conversation, ask for support, and appreciate a good moment while we are in it.

As October begins, I’m grateful for where I am and curious about what comes next. For today, I’m also going to try to take a breath and enjoy being here.

Time is flying. I’m learning to be here for it.

—Jon Dance The Re.Center NRV Reclaim. Rebuild. Reconnect.