Lived Experience, Lasting Impact: Elevating Peer Support in the Era of Fentanyl

Communities across the United States are confronting a fentanyl crisis that shows no signs of slowing. This synthetic opioid, often invisible until it’s too late, has upended families, overwhelmed emergency systems and exposed the limits of our current behavioral health infrastructure.

As the crisis deepens, one group continues to emerge as a vital force in the fight: Certified Peer Support Workers. These are individuals with lived experience, people who have survived addiction, incarceration or mental health challenges and now walk alongside others on their recovery journeys. Their value lies not in theory, but in truth: they’ve been there. They understand what the textbooks can’t teach.

Yet, as peer support becomes more widely adopted across public health, criminal justice and social services, a troubling trend has emerged. In many cases, we are celebrating peer support without safeguarding it. We’re inviting people with incredible resilience into professional roles, but not always equipping them with the supervision, standards or systemic support they need to thrive. The result is a profession that risks burnout, blurred boundaries and inconsistent care—at a time when communities can least afford it.

I’ve seen both sides. As someone who works in local government and as a person in long-term recovery, I’ve had the privilege of supporting others while still growing myself. Over the past two years, I’ve also been honored to serve on the board of directors for “Eagles Unlimited,” a nonprofit in New Mexico that supports individuals on state probation and parole. As the first person with a background like mine to be invited into that space, I try to bring a grounded perspective and always learn from those around me.

Why Peer Support Matters

There’s a reason peer support is gaining traction: it works. But peer support is not simply about shared experience. It’s a skilled profession. Peer workers must be trained not just in recovery models, but in ethics, trauma-informed care, crisis navigation and professional boundaries. Their role demands emotional intelligence, cultural competence and the ability to hold space for another person’s pain without reactivating their own.

The Risks of Underinvestment

Without adequate oversight and ongoing support, even the most committed peer workers can find themselves in over their heads. I’ve seen programs where new peer staff were given titles but no training, placed in high-stress environments without proper supervision or asked to serve in dual roles that compromised their recovery.

For individuals navigating recovery, connection can be more powerful than instruction. Peer workers bridge gaps that no policy or provider can fully reach. They humanize systems that too often dehumanize

This isn’t just a workforce development issue, it’s a public safety concern. When peer roles are poorly defined or inconsistently managed, the result can be confusion, harm and lost credibility for the entire field. Worse, we own retraumatizing individuals who came into this work with the purest intentions.

What We Can Do Differently

If we truly believe in the power of peer support, we must build systems that honor both the worker and the work. That starts with:

• Clear certification pathways that balance lived experience with core competencies

• Professional supervision models that provide mentorship, accountability and clinical consultation when needed

• Role clarity, so peers are not asked to do the work of therapists, case managers or law enforcement

• Ongoing mental health and recovery support for peer workers themselves, because they are not immune to relapse, grief or burnout

We must also listen. People with lived experience should not only fill support roles, they should have seats at decision-making tables. Too often, policy is created about peers, without them. That must change.

A Moment of Reckoning and Opportunity

Fentanyl has rewritten the rules. It is faster, deadlier and more unpredictable than the substances that came before it. Our response must evolve accordingly. That means integrating harm reduction strategies, expanding access to evidence-based treatment and yes, investing deeply in peerled recovery models.

CPSW’s are more than a compassionate workforce. They are a public health intervention. Their insight is not ancillary, it’s essential. But the full potential of this work will only be realized when we treat it with the structure, respect and resources it deserves.

In New Mexico, OPRE continues to explore how best to support, professionalize and protect peer roles within a broader system of care. It’s not perfect, and there’s always more to learn, but I believe our willingness to keep improving is what matters most.

At the same time, we face real threats. The current administration is considering funding cuts that could significantly impact peer support programs nationwide. In this climate, investing in peer-led models isn’t just wise, it’s urgent.

Let us build systems where lived experience is not only acknowledged but empowered, where recovery is not a requirement for silence, but a foundation for meaningful contribution.

“There comes a point where we need to stop just pulling people out of the river. We need to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.” ~Desmond Tutu~