I’ve been thinking about this all week.  You may have already read about a new role I have accepted.

What a career in addiction treatment, Logotherapy, and psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy has taught me about prevention, recovery, and meaningful living.

I recently accepted the position of Executive Director of Drug Free Marshall County, Inc., the organization responsible for managing the federal Drug-Free Communities grant in our community.

For some people who know me, that announcement might raise a few eyebrows.

Wait a minute, Dr. Dan.

Aren’t you the psychologist who works in psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy? The guy who advocates for the decriminalization and legalization of entheogenic substances?

How does that fit with leading a drug-free community organization?

It’s a fair question.

And to answer it, I need to take you back to where my career began.

Where It All Started

I began my professional career working in intensive substance abuse treatment with adolescents.

These were young people whose lives, relationships, and futures were being affected by alcohol and other drugs. I witnessed firsthand the pain that substance misuse could cause, not only for the individuals struggling but for their families and communities.

My early training was grounded in the traditional 12-step, abstinence-based model of addiction treatment.

And I believed in that work.

I still do.

I’ve seen the tremendous value of abstinence and 12-step recovery in people’s lives. For many individuals, these approaches provide the structure, community, accountability, and hope necessary for lasting change.

As my career progressed, I eventually became Clinical Director overseeing multiple adolescent treatment sites across the Midwest.

With that responsibility came greater exposure to different people, different circumstances, and different responses to treatment.

And something began to change.

Not because I stopped believing in recovery.

But because I began to recognize that recovery was more complicated than any single model could fully explain.

Some people thrived within traditional abstinence-based approaches. Others struggled, even when they genuinely wanted to change.

I found myself asking different questions.

What was happening beneath the substance use?

What pain were these young people trying to escape?

What relationships had been damaged or lost?

And perhaps most importantly, what made life worth living without the substance?

Those questions eventually led me somewhere I hadn’t anticipated.

From Abstinence to Meaning-Centered Recovery

My understanding of addiction and recovery changed considerably when I began studying Viktor Frankl’s Logotherapy.

Frankl challenged me to look beyond symptoms and behaviors and consider something fundamental to the human experience: our search for meaning.

I began to recognize that, for some people, substance misuse wasn’t simply about seeking pleasure or escaping discomfort. It was also connected to deeper struggles involving emptiness, disconnection, identity, and a loss of direction.

That doesn’t mean addiction is always caused by a lack of meaning. Addiction is far too complex for any single explanation.

But it did lead me to an important realization.

Helping someone stop using a substance and helping someone discover a life worth living without that substance are two different, equally important tasks.

My early training taught me a great deal about the first.

My study of Logotherapy helped me better understand the second.

Over time, those experiences contributed to something I’ve been developing called Meaning-Centered Recovery.

At its heart, Meaning-Centered Recovery emphasizes five interconnected elements: meaning, responsibility, relationship, resilience, and contribution.

It recognizes that recovery involves more than changing a behavior. It also involves rebuilding our relationship with ourselves, reconnecting with others, discovering what matters, and accepting responsibility for the direction of our lives.

Traditional approaches to recovery often begin with an essential question:

How do I stop using?

Meaning-Centered Recovery adds another:

Who am I becoming?

I don’t see those questions as competitors.

I see them as partners.

Because lasting recovery often involves discovering something worth moving toward, not simply something to move away from.

And that insight began to influence how I understood nearly everything about my work.

And Then Came Psychedelic-Assisted Psychotherapy

Years later, my professional journey took another turn as I began studying psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy.

I encountered a growing body of research exploring the potential therapeutic applications of substances that, throughout much of my early career, had been discussed almost exclusively in terms of their dangers.

That challenged some of my assumptions.

Certain substances that I had once understood primarily through the lens of prevention and misuse were now being investigated for their potential to help people struggling with particular mental health conditions.

I found that fascinating.

But I also approached this work with the perspective of someone who had spent years in addiction treatment.

I knew that substances could cause harm.

I knew that context, vulnerability, and individual differences mattered.

And I knew that no chemical experience, however profound, could substitute for the ongoing work of building a healthier, more meaningful life.

My interest in psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy has never been based on the belief that psychedelics are harmless, appropriate for everyone, or some miraculous solution to human suffering.

Rather, it comes from a willingness to follow emerging evidence, reconsider old assumptions, and explore carefully whether particular therapeutic approaches might help people who are suffering.

Appropriate screening, preparation, clinical oversight, informed consent, and integration are essential. So is working within applicable legal and professional boundaries.

And perhaps most importantly, I believe that any meaningful therapeutic experience must eventually find expression in how we actually live.

What changes in our relationships?

How do we respond differently to life’s challenges?

What responsibilities are we more willing to accept?

Who are we becoming?

In many ways, these are the same questions that first emerged during my years working with adolescents struggling with addiction.

Prevention Is More Than Saying No

Which brings me back to Drug Free Marshall County.

I believe deeply in preventing substance misuse, particularly among young people.

I’ve seen too much suffering to feel otherwise.

But my understanding of prevention has also evolved.

If we want young people to avoid harmful patterns of substance use, we need to do more than tell them what not to do.

We need to help them build lives filled with meaningful relationships, belonging, purpose, healthy coping skills, and opportunities to contribute.

We need to create communities where young people feel connected, valued, and needed.

This is where I believe Meaning-Centered Recovery offers an important perspective on prevention as well.

Prevention isn’t simply about keeping something harmful out of someone’s life. It’s also about helping them develop something meaningful within it.

That doesn’t diminish the importance of evidence-based prevention strategies, clear boundaries, or honest education about the risks of substance use.

It gives those efforts a larger purpose.

And it brings me to the apparent contradiction between my new leadership role and my continued work in psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy.

I don’t believe that preventing adolescent substance misuse requires us to oppose legitimate scientific research into therapeutic uses of certain substances.

Nor do I believe that advocating for decriminalization or carefully regulated legalization means endorsing unrestricted access or minimizing potential harm.

Decriminalization, legalization, and therapeutic access are different policy questions, each requiring thoughtful consideration of risks, evidence, and safeguards.

A substance can present significant dangers in one context while potentially offering therapeutic benefits in another.

We should be capable of holding both truths.

We can acknowledge risks without rejecting possibilities.

We can support personal freedom while insisting on responsibility.

And we can work to prevent harm while remaining open to new approaches to healing.

Two Roles, One Set of Values

My new position as Executive Director of Drug Free Marshall County comes with clear responsibilities.

My role is to support the organization’s prevention mission, strengthen community partnerships, and help ensure that our work is effective, accountable, and consistent with the requirements of the federal Drug-Free Communities grant.

I take those responsibilities seriously.

My private clinical practice and my personal advocacy for drug-policy reform are separate from that organizational role.

I do not expect Drug Free Marshall County to adopt my personal positions on entheogenic substances, nor will I use the organization or its federal resources to advance those positions.

At the same time, I don’t believe accepting a leadership role in prevention requires me to abandon the clinical perspectives I’ve developed over the course of my career.

In fact, I believe those experiences can help me become a more thoughtful prevention leader.

I’ve worked with adolescents struggling with substance use.

I’ve led treatment programs.

I’ve witnessed the value of abstinence-based recovery.

I’ve studied the importance of meaning in human suffering and healing.

And I’ve explored emerging therapeutic approaches that have challenged some of our long-held assumptions.

Each chapter has taught me something.

And each has reminded me how much more there is to learn.

The Freedom to Change Our Minds

One of the most important lessons I’ve taken from Viktor Frankl’s work is that freedom and responsibility belong together.

We are not simply the products of our past experiences, our circumstances, or even our previous beliefs.

We retain the capacity to examine our assumptions, respond to new information, and choose how we move forward.

I don’t think personal or professional growth requires us to reject everything we once believed.

Sometimes it means recognizing what was valuable in our earlier understanding while becoming willing to see what it couldn’t fully explain.

I haven’t abandoned the lessons I learned in adolescent addiction treatment.

I’ve built upon them.

I haven’t stopped believing in recovery and prevention.

My understanding of what supports recovery and prevention has expanded.

And I haven’t concluded that psychedelic substances are the answer to human suffering.

I’ve simply become convinced that responsible scientific inquiry and compassionate clinical care require us to remain curious.

Perhaps that’s one of the challenges of meaningful living: allowing ourselves to grow without pretending that everything we once believed was wrong.

Coming Full Circle

I recognize that some people may still question how these two professional commitments fit together.

I welcome that conversation.

Because I believe our communities need more conversations that are thoughtful enough to hold complexity.

We need to protect young people from substance-related harm.

We need to support individuals and families affected by addiction.

We need prevention strategies grounded in evidence rather than fear.

We need to remain open to legitimate advances in mental health treatment.

And we need the humility to reconsider our assumptions when experience and evidence suggest that better approaches may be possible.

When I look back over my career, I don’t see a straight line from one belief system to another.

I see a gradual process of learning, questioning, and discovering.

From adolescent addiction treatment to clinical leadership.

From abstinence-based recovery to Logotherapy.

From the search for meaning to the exploration of psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy.

And now, back to community substance-use prevention.

Perhaps I’ve come full circle.

But I’m not standing in quite the same place where I began.

I’m bringing everything I’ve learned along the way.

And I hope that makes me better equipped to serve.

Here’s wishing you a meaningful week.

Until next Monday,

Dr. Dan