02/23/2026
NAMI Iowa, thank you for sharing Troy Roberts’ story! He is an example that long-lasting change takes time and is often extremely difficult and uncomfortable. There is nothing quick or easy about our approach.
We have a saying: “When you do what is easy, life becomes hard. When you do what is hard, life becomes easy.”
Troy is an example of our truly life-changing approach to overcoming unhealthy behaviors and transforming lives.
NAMI Iowa loves sharing recovery stories.
Every recovery story we share is proof that a life is more than its worst chapter. We tell these stories because someone out there feels stuck, or ashamed, or convinced it’s too late. It isn’t. This story is a reminder that change doesn’t require a perfect past, it requires a decision and a place willing to help you follow through.
This is Troy.
Troy’s story starts at 14.
That’s when addiction moved in and refused to leave.
His mom struggled too. His dad wasn’t really there. Chaos was normal. In the last years of her life, his mother got clean. They were somewhat estranged, he’ll admit he mostly came back around when he needed something. The last time he asked, she said no.
They never repaired that distance.
She was murdered by her then husband during that estrangement.
There’s no clean way to package that. It fueled anger. More using. More running. Jail time. He estimates about five years of his life were spent there in pieces. Addiction eventually led to dealing. At 32, he was arrested and facing a 35-year sentence.
And as he was sitting in jail, waiting to be sentenced, he saw a flyer for Harvest Academy Iowa, a recovery center in Indianola Iowa.
He wrote a letter.
A staff member showed up days later.
He was accepted.
Harvest is a two-year program. Not 30 days. Not a quick fix. Two full years of structure, accountability, work, and rebuilding.
Let’s be honest. There’s a difference between going into recovery because you’re desperate to change and going because it’s the better option than prison.
A lot of the men who walk through Harvest’s doors are facing sentences. They’re in the same boat Troy was in. Sometimes that motivation works. Sometimes it doesn’t.
In his case, it did.
It worked in the ordinary ways first.
Showing up on time.
Holding a job.
Taking correction.
Sitting with grief instead of numbing it.
Being accountable when no one was watching.
He did his two years and when they were up, he decided to stay, in part because he was scared of what would happen if he left. He stayed because he knew he still needed the structure but the biggest reason he stayed was because he wanted to give back to the program that had taken a chance on him. That program became something he felt responsible for protecting and pouring into.
Today, Troy is a program manager at Harvest. He goes back into jails and talks to inmates. He talks to lawyers and others in the system because he understands the reality: when someone is facing decades behind bars, recovery can feel like the only door cracked open.
He doesn’t sugarcoat it. He tells them the truth.
Recovery isn’t a loophole.
It’s work.
It’s discipline.
It’s deciding every day that you’re not going back.
His story could have ended in a cell.
Instead, it became a bridge, from a cell to purpose, from anger to accountability, from surviving to leading.
His mother’s life ended in tragedy.
His didn’t have to.
And now he stands in rooms full of men who think they’re out of options and says, without drama, without hype:
“I was you.”
Thank you Troy for sharing your story with us.
Troy’s journey is a reminder that no one is beyond hope, and no story is finished until it’s finished.
We will keep sharing these stories. Because someone out there needs to hear that change is still possible.
