About Us

Nestled down a quaint country road in rural Ontario is an old house that is getting a new lease on life, just like the people inside.

Inconspicuous from the road, Bonvie Recovery is a new facility in South Frontenac Township that is addressing the addiction and mental health crisis gripping Canada and the world beyond. 

Perched on the shore of Little Franklin Lake off Perth Road near Kingston, Ontario, the house feels like a beacon of hope. Built in 1929, it is stylishly decorated inside with life-affirming messages on the walls. After months of intensive work to restore the building to its former glory, the house radiates warmth and comfort; the views of the water and seven acres of trails over the Canadian shield are breathtaking.

Springing from the couch to greet a guest, Director David Rosenberg is clearly proud of what he has created. He is 57 years old and pays close attention to the energy around him. His desire to achieve and share serenity appears to be what drives him to change, and save, as many lives as possible.

“We are facing an enormous pandemic of addiction,” he explains. “There is an immediate need to address this disease. The mental health and addiction situation is so bad, if you need help, you’re not going to be in hospital for more than one week. The social medication part of this is horrendous. This is an exploding problem.”

As David talks about the centre that is privately run, you can feel his urge to help as many people as possible, possibly even beyond the centre’s jurisdiction of Toronto to Montreal. Deeper into the conversation, he reveals he has a personal connection to crack cocaine which cost him his first marriage, home, one-lung and half a million dollars. It is hard to reconcile this lively man as a former drug addict who stays clean by helping others. 

“I can’t keep what I have unless I give it away,” he says with the wisdom of someone who found happiness after losing everything. 

Under David’s guidance, Bonvie Recovery’s approach is to love someone until they love themselves. On any given day, David will wrap his arms around his in-patient residents to show them how much he cares and how much they matter. This form of endearment is just one example of his commitments matching his convictions. He also ensures assessments are done on a client-centred basis to determine needs and capacity. “This isn’t just about money,” he says firmly. 

“When you look at the addicts in desperate need of help in downtown Ottawa, you want to cry,” explains David who seems to have built a last resort for many drug addicts and people who are mentally unwell. 

His eyes well with tears talking about the homeless people with dual diagnosis he went to visit at the Integrated Care Hub in Kingston. Addiction and mental health are a visually growing problem in every Canadian community, most of which can’t provide proper treatment and recovery. 

Armed with the knowledge and experience to offer this service, David has been building the recovery centre for more than one year. He and his partner opened earlier than expected in August 2024 to start offering the life-saving treatment desperately needed by many. David currently has four people in recovery under the care of his team of highly trained staff of frontline health care workers, drug counsellors and mental health & addiction experts, many of whom are recovering addicts themselves.

He is quick to explain that he does rehab differently. “They’re people; I run relationships,” he says kindly. “A big piece of this is getting into their lives, it’s called a love-first approach. We have many talks a day and laugh a lot. It’s all about love and support. 90 per cent of these people don’t love themselves. My motto is ‘We’re going to love you until you love yourself’ which is better than the cookie cutter approach.”

According to David, the key is to care about the person. “These people don’t know how to live life on its terms,” he explains. “They manipulate their environment because they’re uncomfortable with it. That makes us a tool centre. We’re going to give people a knapsack of tools and teach them how to live without addiction. To me, addiction is the pit in your stomach. We address that.”

In addition to group and individual discussions, in-patient residents are expected to attend a community group twice a week. When not in treatment, they can fish, swim and travel into town. The centre is composed of 34 beds with private washrooms and a restaurant-style kitchen with BBQ. It has a gym, games room and deck overlooking the water – music, art and massage therapy will be offered soon. Areas such as a yoga studio and hair salon have yet to open. Residents are considered family and are welcome to come and go, but they have to want to be there. Once intake is completed, they are assessed at 20 days with stays that can extend to 60 days and beyond. 

So far, the centre has been well received by the community and the people it is serving. Owners plan to be open and transparent with the work and build partnerships with all arms of emergency services. 

“I think saving lives in a community is a good thing,” attests David who has remarried and is the proud father of three children. “This disease almost took my life, twice. I had a horrible, horrible time. I needed to grow-up and I wouldn’t have done it without a treatment centre.”

Speaking from a small staff room near the lounge, health care worker Scotland is meticulous in the personalized care plans she builds for every in-patient resident during admission. She is proud to discuss her work at the treatment centre. 

“We’re family here,” she says without hesitation. “You’re coming to get better. We don’t treat people like clients. We lead with love.”

Pointing to every unique part of the building and grounds, Administrator Kim Suffron notes, “This place is exceptional. Each floor has a laundry room and quiet space. It’s very peaceful here. The care is excellent; we use the 12-step philosophy to addiction recovery. When you leave, we will even remain in contact once a week. 

Back in the main room, David looks thoughtfully out a window overlooking the lake. “It’s very hard to do it (recover from addiction),” he notes. “There are real character deficits in these people. It’s hard to live in this world comfortably. I don’t envy my children; It’s a tough world. That’s what happened to me. I was very unhappy. But addiction is a false solution. It’s all about caring for them, they are people. If they don’t find help, they die.”

Standing to leave, the friendly man extends his hand. It’s late on a Friday afternoon on a holiday weekend and he wants to meet with a distraught parent to discuss treating their child whose life is in peril from addiction. “It’s challenging but rewarding work,” he says with his trademark honesty. “What could possibly be better than to save a life.”