By Ken Stoddart

There comes a time in life when your experiences, your pain, and your faith converge into something greater than yourself—a calling. For me, that calling is clear: to walk alongside those lost in the depths of addiction and grief and help guide them back into the light. I don’t just want to make a difference—I want to dedicate the rest of my life to it.

I was well into my forties before I realized I had crossed an invisible line.  Up to that point, alcohol had been a footnote, never the headline.  But somewhere along the way, the ritual turned into a requirement.  It looked normal.  I was still performing, still delivering results, still rising through the ranks of the fast-growing cybersecurity industry.  To most, I looked like the guy who had it all handled--- decades of experience, a growing career, and a reputation for discipline and control. 

But inside?  I was slipping.

I didn’t hit a dramatic rock bottom.  No intervention, no scandal.  Just a quiet reckoning; the realization that the edge I thought alcohol gave me was actually dulling the parts of me I valued most---my focus, my connection to purpose, and my ability to be the person I so wanted to be. 

Getting honest about that took more courage than facing down any external threat.   It meant confronting ego, shame, and years of self-sufficiency.  But that’s where the breakthrough began.

Recovery wasn’t about becoming someone else. It was about coming home to who I really was—someone capable, whole, and deeply committed to showing up fully for the people who rely on me.

Today, I carry that experience with humility. It’s not my weakness—it’s one of my greatest strengths. Because now, when I walk into a room—whether it’s a boardroom or a recovery space—I know what grace looks like. And I know how to give it.

My time at Hazelden Betty Ford wasn’t just a turning point in my recovery—it was a revelation. Surrounded by therapists and counselors who listened without judgment and challenged with compassion, I saw firsthand the power of human connection in healing. They weren’t just clinicians—they were lifelines. Each session peeled back layers I didn’t know were weighing me down, and in the process, I discovered a profound truth: the same disciplined care I’d spent decades giving to others could be turned inward—and then outward again, in service of those walking a similar path. That experience ignited a calling I can’t ignore. Today, I don’t just want to stay sober—I want to stand beside others as they reclaim their lives. It’s why I’m dedicating this next chapter to guiding those struggling with addiction, especially those who, like me, wore success well enough to hide the storm.

Drawing on my background in technology and strategic systems, I’ve found innovative ways to support clients in recovery that are both practical and deeply personal. From secure, discreet communication platforms to data-informed progress tracking, I’m blending the rigor of executive-level efficiency with the empathy of lived experience.  Whether it's through virtual recovery plans, AI-assisted coaching, or a faith-based digital resource that integrates scripture with daily reflection, I'm using tech not just as a tool, but as a bridge: connecting clients to clarity, purpose, and the consistent support they need to thrive.

As I move forward in this calling, I’m committed to building a counseling career rooted in discretion, dignity, and cultural sensitivity. My personal journey has taught me that addiction doesn’t discriminate—it touches executives and everyday people alike, often hidden behind success and status. That’s why I aim to create a space where vulnerability is not just accepted, but honored. My goal is to foster trust through shared experience, offer culturally informed support that respects faith, identity, and family dynamics, and break generational cycles by promoting healing at every level of a person’s life. I want clients to rediscover their worth beyond the stigma of addiction and to feel seen—not just for their struggles, but for their potential. Through advocacy, representation, and radical compassion, I hope to redefine what recovery looks like for those who’ve been silently carrying the weight.

This isn’t just a personal reinvention—it’s a commitment to serve. The same discipline that safeguarded enterprises, nurtured strategic alliances, and crossed IronMan finish lines now fuels my passion to protect something even more vital: the dignity and potential of individuals facing addiction. My experience has taught me that recovery is not a finish line—it’s a lifelong act of leadership, empathy, and resilience. By pursuing this academic path, I’m not only deepening my understanding of counseling—I’m laying the foundation for a purpose-driven practice that brings hope where silence once lived. I’m ready to lead with compassion, informed by experience, and anchored by the belief that no story is beyond redemption.