The Bench That Changed Everything

When Bryan Billmeyer arrived at The Other Side Academy, he was told to sit on the infamous bench. Every new arrival did. The bench was a place where truth came out, where the lies that had sustained a person’s addiction and self-destruction were no longer tolerated. Bryan, like so many before him, tried to talk his way through the moment. When asked if he was high, he lied. The staff saw through it immediately, leaving him on the bench until he was ready to be honest with himself.

For over a day, he sat, waiting, fighting the instinct to manipulate his way out of the situation. Finally, when he broke—when he admitted the truth—he expected rejection. Instead, the Academy welcomed him in.

That moment was the first step in a journey that would take Bryan from the depths of addiction, homelessness, and hopelessness to a life filled with purpose, stability, and dreams that he had once considered impossible.

From Experimentation to Addiction

Bryan’s downward spiral began in high school. After a routine surgery on his tailbone, he was prescribed painkillers, and that was his first taste of what opioids could do. One pill made him feel good—two made him feel even better. At home in North Ogden, his mother was struggling through a divorce, trying to raise four kids on her own. Bryan quickly learned how to manipulate his family, convincing his mother and grandmother to give him more pills.

Despite these early warning signs, his addiction didn’t immediately take over his life. He continued with the typical teenage mischief—drinking, skipping school, and hanging out late on Washington Boulevard. But by the time he was 16, drinking had become a constant, and when his grandmother passed away, he started seeking even stronger ways to numb the pain. His mother always told him he was the glue holding the family together, but internally, Bryan felt like he was falling apart.

Tragedy Strikes

At 18, Bryan’s life took another devastating turn. His wife became pregnant, and although they were young, Bryan was determined to provide for his growing family. However, his addiction was already taking root, and he was hiding it from his wife. When their son was born with severe medical complications, their lives were upended. For the next 10 months, Bryan and his wife lived in a constant state of fear and exhaustion, spending most of their time at Primary Children’s Hospital while also trying to maintain some semblance of stability at home, where they were living with Bryan’s mother.

Bryan convinced himself that he had to be the strong one. He bottled up his emotions, focusing entirely on keeping his wife and family from falling apart. But the pressure was unbearable. His addiction escalated as he sought stronger opioids to numb the pain and anxiety. Behind closed doors, he was doctor-shopping, manipulating hospital staff, and using pills to escape the reality of his son’s fragile condition.

When his son passed away at just 15 months old, the weight of grief was crushing. Bryan no longer had the energy to pretend he had everything under control. His marriage, already strained under the emotional turmoil, began to unravel. Instead of processing his loss, he threw himself deeper into addiction, chasing relief wherever he could find it.

By 2018, he had racked up over two dozen counts of prescription fraud, lost his job, and burned bridges with nearly everyone who had once tried to help him. When his cousin committed suicide, it reinforced what Bryan had been feeling for years.“I remember sitting at his funeral and just wishing so bad that was me in that casket so I could end my pain,” Bryan recalls.

Rock Bottom on North Temple

In December 2018, Bryan turned himself in to Weber County Jail. Overwhelmed by the weight of his addiction, outstanding warrants, and a growing sense of hopelessness, he made the choice to face the consequences of his actions. He was out of options. Spending 45 days in Weber County Jail, he had a brief moment of clarity, but the minute he was released, he was high again. He had nowhere to go. His mother had given him too many chances, and his siblings no longer trusted him. He spent a month homeless on North Temple in Salt Lake City, sleeping in the cold, getting high, and begging relatives for money to keep himself off the streets.

It was his Aunt Linda who finally broke through. On February 21, 2019, Bryan had just been robbed, was in withdrawal, and felt like he was at the end of his rope. He called his aunt, who told him about The Other Side Academy, a two-year program that required full commitment. His first instinct was to lie—he told her the Academy had a waiting list. She saw right through it. Within half an hour, she was there to pick him up.

From Homeless to Dreamer

Once Bryan committed to the Academy, he had to face hard truths. He had spent years mastering the art of lying—to himself and to everyone around him. But at The Other Side Academy, that wasn’t an option. He was forced to take accountability for his choices. He learned to work, to follow a routine, to hold himself responsible. Most importantly, he began to see his own value.

At night, he and his best friend Ian would sit outside, dreaming about what life could be like after the Academy. They imagined working at The Other Side Village, a new community being built for those transitioning out of homelessness. At the time, it felt like an impossible goal.

But Bryan didn’t let his dreams stay dreams. After graduating from the Academy, he worked various jobs—at a moving company, at a car dealership—but none of them fulfilled him. He went back to Dave Droscher, the executive director of The Other Side Academy, and asked for a job at the Village. At the time, there were no openings, but Bryan kept pushing. Months later, he finally got the call—he was hired as a mentor at The Other Side Village.

A New Future

Today, Bryan is engaged to a woman he met at the Village, drives his own car, and manages his own finances. He isn’t just surviving—he’s thriving. He’s part of a movement that is transforming the way Utah addresses homelessness and addiction, proving that the real solution isn’t government handouts or quick fixes, but accountability, community, and self-respect.

Bryan’s message to those still struggling is simple: “You deserve better. No one is coming to save you—you have to do the work yourself. But if you’re willing, there is a way out.”

He is living proof.