Mental Health Providers in Antioch, California

I have never felt so disrespected, dismissed, and dehumanized in my life the way I did at J. Cole House Recovery Homes Inc. From day one, it didn’t feel like a recovery program — it felt like control, intimidation, and power trips disguised as “treatment.” My counselor, Lavar, barely did anything but sit in the office on his phone. Staff walked around barking orders like they were running a boot camp, not a place meant to help people heal. You can’t lay down. You can’t rest. You have to stay moving all day just to look “busy.” It felt cold, institutional, and fake. One house phone for over twenty adults. No personal phones at all. They take both of yours at intake and cut you off from the outside world. The food was terrible. The atmosphere was worse. Nobody really listens. Nobody really cares. You’re treated like a number, not a human being trying to rebuild their life. The most painful part? My uncle’s funeral. On February 5th, during intake, the FIRST thing I told them was that my uncle’s funeral was on the 7th. Instead of compassion, I was told to “prove it.” Prove my own uncle’s funeral was real — like I was lying to escape treatment. Meanwhile, they had already taken both my phones, which had all the information. They wouldn’t even let me access one for five minutes to show proof. The funeral was literally a few buildings down the street at Higgins Mortuary on A Street. Walking distance. My own mother called them the day of the funeral asking them to let me go. They still said no. “Nothing we can do.” That was a lie. They could have done something — they just chose not to. I packed my bags that day. I was furious and heartbroken. I stayed only because my mom told me I’d regret leaving. And a few days later, they discharged me anyway. Another client lied and told staff I brought alcohol into the house. The truth? I found alcohol in the backyard and was on my way to turn it in when he ran to tell on me first. Staff searched me, found it, and immediately decided I was guilty. No camera check. No breathalyzer. No investigation. No fairness. They took his word over mine without a second thought. Just, “Pack your stuff.” So I did. I walked to my mom’s house, changed clothes, and went straight to the hospital to get cleared to go back to detox at Pueblos Del Sol — even though I hadn’t had a single drink in ten days. That’s how serious I was about staying clean. That’s how committed I was to changing. And they threw me out like I was nothing. This place claims to help people fight addiction, but the way I was treated was humiliating and careless. They kept me from my uncle’s funeral that was right down the street. They let a lie erase ten days of progress without evidence. They showed me exactly how little my effort meant to them. I came there trying to better myself. Trying to change. Trying to do the right thing. And they made it clear that none of that mattered.

There are so many good things about this place. I've been a client for approximately a year-and-a-half. The facility deals with those struggling with mental health issues including myself. It's utterly amazing how supportive and compassionate that the entire staff is. They have helped me grow and become more mentally healthy and so many ways that I will be grateful for the rest of my life. There's no judgement or stigma and everyone is treated with the upmost respect and compassion. Places like this need to be more common and fortunately that's not the case today but hopefully in the future that will change. I've worked with other mental health agencies and none of them even come close to comparing to the Hume Center. I love this place and I love the people who work there. These people don't work there for the money they work there to contribute and help those with mental health issues learn to cope and live a more positive life. I hope this place never goes away. It is truly a gold mine and the staff there literally saved my life because of the support I received.