How sobriety led a gay man to reclaim his own agency

"Because in the end, recovery and democracy share the same heartbeat: the courage to choose freedom."

This article is about sobriety. In the photo, a person staring at the horizon.
Image: Via Unsplash - Iswanto Arif

In 2025, Marlon Jimenez-Compton celebrated four years of sobriety. In this article, he opens up about how getting sober and becoming an Irish citizen impacted his life and helped him reclaim his agency.

When I walked into the polling station to cast my vote in Ireland’s recent presidential election, I felt something quietly extraordinary: freedom. For me, voting isn’t just a civic duty; it’s a privilege I once could only dream of. I voted for Catherine Connolly because her independence of mind and courage of conviction speak to the kind of Ireland that gave me a second chance at life — an Ireland that believes in compassion, integrity and truth.

Last November, I celebrated another kind of freedom: four years of sobriety. The two milestones — recovery and citizenship — might seem unrelated, but to me they are deeply intertwined. Both are stories of reclaiming voice, agency and belonging.

I arrived in Ireland in 2003 as an asylum seeker from Venezuela, escaping the isolation and discrimination I faced for being gay. I had voted for Hugo Chávez the first time, full of youthful hope for change, but soon after, that dream turned into something much darker. Life at home became heavy with fear, sadness and rejection — not only political but personal. I left because I needed safety, dignity and the chance to start over.

When I came to Ireland, I was given €19 a week. I wasn’t allowed to work, study or travel. I survived by cleaning houses, ironing clothes and being grateful for every small kindness. My dear friend Dr Cian Denihan offered me a roof and friendship when I had nothing else. That simple act of generosity became a seed of belonging.

In 2004, I was granted refugee status. I could finally work, study and move freely. Five years later, in 2009, I became an Irish citizen. By then, I had also met my husband, John, who stood by me through the uncertainty of the asylum process. But it’s important for me to say that John wasn’t the reason I became Irish — love doesn’t replace paperwork; it deepens purpose.

Ireland became not just my home but my rebirth. Still, even with a new life, a good job and safety, something inside me remained unsettled. I was living, but not healing. The turning point came when I met my therapist, Gerry, whose gentle insight planted in me the seed of sobriety — without ever saying the words alcohol problem or addiction. He didn’t label me; he guided me.

Working through the trauma of losing my mother when I was 11 years old became central to understanding myself. That wound had shaped my choices and my pain more than I ever realised. Healing it became the foundation of my recovery, not just from alcohol, but from silence, shame and emotional chaos.

 

Through SMART Recovery Ireland, I found structure, accountability and a sense of community. It gave me tools to manage emotions, to understand triggers and, eventually, to lead others as a facilitator. Today, sobriety isn’t about what I don’t do — it’s about everything I now can do. It’s clarity. It’s balance. It’s freedom.

Sobriety has also brought new honesty and light into my marriage. John and I have grown together: we listen more, laugh more, and love with a clarity that only truth can bring. When the noise fades, connection deepens.

Professionally, I’ve found meaning in serving the country that gave me hope. As a Clerical Officer with An Garda Síochána, I see every day what “Keeping People Safe” truly means. I’m also the host and co-producer of The Marlon Show on Dublin South 93.9 FM, where I get to celebrate stories of resilience and community, the very values that shaped my own life.

And as a member of the Refugee Advisory Board for UNHCR Ireland, I have the privilege of giving something back, helping to strengthen the voice of those still waiting for safety, just as I once was.

Four years sober, 22 years since arriving in Ireland, I look back with immense gratitude. I no longer define myself by what I escaped, but by what I’ve built. I came here searching for safety; I found belonging.

And when I marked my ballot for Catherine Connolly, I wasn’t just voting for a president. I was voting for everything I believe in: compassion, truth and independence of thought.

Because in the end, recovery and democracy share the same heartbeat: the courage to choose freedom.

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