Adam Vohra knows what it means to believe your life has gone too far in the wrong direction.
For years, addiction shaped his choices, relationships and sense of self. Today, as founder of ARV Enterprises and a recovery coach, Vohra uses the story he once hid to help others imagine a different ending.
His struggle began young, around the time he and his sister discovered they had been adopted.
Loss compounded that pain. His mother, Elahe, died from leukemia in 2013. Later, his best friend Lauren died. Vohra returned repeatedly to addiction, legal trouble, lost jobs, damaged relationships and the restaurant industry.
Then came July 2022.
This time, there was something else. Diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis, he was told that he needed to make a change.
He finally stopped casting blame and truly asked for help.
Without health insurance or money for rehab, Vohra called a friend who worked in recovery. She flew him to Beaufort, South Carolina, where he was paired with recovery coach Rick Barnes. The decision changed far more for Vohra.
“Recovery isn’t just putting down the drink or the drug,” he says. “That’s where it starts.”
For Vohra, recovery meant honesty, accountability, rebuilding trust and learning to live without escaping uncomfortable emotions. He describes early recovery as grieving a former version of yourself before reaching acceptance and beginning to build what he calls the “self-love ladder”: self-esteem, self-worth, self-reliance, self-respect, self-trust and self-confidence.
The life that emerged surprised him.
Rather than return immediately to restaurants, Vohra joined the sales team at Equinox in Greenwich. There, he watched high performers build their lives around discipline and consistency. His network expanded, along with his idea of what his future could hold.
A year into sobriety, he founded ARV Enterprises, initially focused on nonprofit consulting. Work with organizations including the Carlos Rodón Foundation and InService Foundation led naturally toward events and community building. Yet recovery remained the work he felt called to do.
Speaking with adolescents at Silver Hill Hospital became pivotal. Sharing the experiences he once carried with shame allowed him to offer young people words he wishes someone had given him years earlier.
His coach provided another model. Therapy, twelve-step programs and treatment can be essential, Vohra says, while coaching can help bridge the ordinary moments between them: relationships, routines, fears, setbacks and decisions that make up daily life.
He wants clients to leave their first conversation feeling safe. Heard. Unjudged. Hopeful.
That philosophy extends to families. Addiction, Vohra explains, rarely affects one person alone. Those who love someone struggling may spend years rescuing, making excuses or shielding them from consequences, believing they are helping. Sometimes, he says, love instead requires boundaries and allowing accountability.
His message is equally compassionate toward the person struggling: asking for help is not weakness, and no dramatic “rock bottom” is required before someone deserves support.
“You do not have to fix your whole life today,” he says. “You just have to stop running from it and make the next right decision.”
Vohra builds his own recovery around similarly ordinary choices: making his bed, meditating, moving his body, prioritizing sleep, eating well, attending therapy, practicing gratitude and nurturing his spirituality.
“Recovery is built in the ordinary moments,” he says.
Perhaps the most visible result of those moments is Vohra’s instinct for connection. He has become a community builder, creating events and rooms where strangers become friends, collaborators and supporters. Through Greenwich Lifestyle, he says, relationships and opportunities helped him recognize possibilities he once could not see for himself.
For someone whose addiction once drove him toward isolation, becoming known as a connector feels particularly meaningful.
He credits the people who believed in him, including Greenwich Lifestyle Editor in Chief Laura Sabia, whom he describes as both a close friend and mentor who challenged him to think bigger about what he could create.
Vohra now tries to offer others the same gift: someone in their corner who can see possibility before they can see it themselves.
His definition of success has changed accordingly. It was once measured in money, status, recognition and the appearance of doing well. Today, ambition remains, but it no longer determines his worth.
Success is peace. Keeping promises to himself. Being dependable. Living with integrity. Building meaningful relationships. Doing purposeful work. Becoming someone he respects.
Through ARV Enterprises, Vohra hopes to deepen his work throughout Connecticut, Westchester and surrounding communities, collaborating with treatment professionals, therapists, sober-living programs, coaches and families. He wants ARV to become a trusted resource for people navigating what happens after the decision to change.
Because Vohra no longer sees recovery as an ending.
He sees it as becoming.
And if someone reading his story currently believes change is no longer possible, Vohra hopes his life offers evidence otherwise.
“Your worst chapter does not have to become your whole story,” he says.
There may be damage to repair and relationships to rebuild. But while there is another decision to make, there is another direction to go.
Sometimes an entirely different life begins with asking someone to walk beside you.
Adam’s Foundations
Recovery, for Adam Vohra, lives in the habits repeated when nobody is watching: make the bed, hydrate, meditate, move, practice gratitude and stay connected. His daily non-negotiable is a gratitude list. His favorite place to recharge is Beaufort, South Carolina. The word he uses to describe recovery? Becoming.