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| 2007-2015 starting top left |
My theory is that every human
being in this world is, or will at some point in their life, be in recovery
from something. Everyone recovers. Recovery is that thing we do when something, anything has
knocked us down. Sometimes recovery is
just catching our balance after tripping over a tree root, and other times it’s
learning to walk again after a terrible accident. Sometimes recovery is
rebuilding our life after disease has riddled our body. Sometimes recovery is
rebuilding our life after disease has destroyed our brains.
Unfortunately, only those of
us who recover from physical disease, divorce, death of a loved one or like
maladies are permitted the badge of Courage and Bravery. Those of us who
struggle with diseases of the mind are most often marginalized, judged,
distanced and dismissed. We scare
people. This makes telling anyone about being in recovery shameful, forget the
actual importance and work of recovering.
I have spent the last eight
years learning how to flip the script of shame and stigma associated with
mental illness by increasingly and carefully sharing my story, all while
trudging the road of recovery. I have
fought so hard for my own recovery precisely because people with mental illness are so often denied the respect
and support they deserve due to their illness. It hasn’t been perfect, least of all pretty, but it has and
continues to be worth it.
In 2007, in the midst of my then 13 year battle
with an eating disorder, I felt the full weight of the stigma, the fear (from
others and of myself), the disappointment of failed recovery attempts and I
gave up fighting. There was no hope in my heart for health, healing, or
recovery. When I awoke from the week long coma my suicide attempt induced, on
this day eight years ago, I was angry at the breath in my lungs; it only meant
the torture of my mental illness would continue.
For a short time, the torment did continue. Within
a few months of leaving the hospital, I found myself in a long-term treatment
facility for my eating disorder. The first few months there were worse than the
disorder itself. Yet, when poor insurance practices threatened to take away my
very last chance at a life of meaning, something banal within me rose up and I
began to really fight. This was the beginning of My Recovery.
I
have lived eight years longer than I had wanted or expected to live, and I am
more grateful than I believed was possible for a person to feel. I could write for days about the beauty and
grace I have experienced and been able to offer, about the incredible people in
my life who have stood along side me as I fought with myself to get out of my
own way, the hurdles I have climbed, the joy I have felt, the minds I have
opened by simply being the face of this Thing so many people fear. Yet, I find
it more appropriate to reflect on my commitment to recover, the real work of
overcoming; the choice-after-choice process of returning to health and the
lessons and growth those decisions have brought me.
Eight years of recovery,
eight lessons learned.
Recovery, like life, is a process, which means the
road will not be straight, flat or smooth.
This is one of those lessons
a person has to learn the hard way, multiple times. Each time we face recovery,
no matter what it is from, new lessons are learned. And when we do not fully
learn all we are meant to in our attempts, we are knocked down again, somehow,
and must again return to the mindful practice of recovery.
The past is rarely as relevant as we choose to
believe.
Who of us does not have a
past? Who doesn’t have some embarrassing memory of behaving badly, or of the
person they used to be? Of course, we all learn from those experiences, they
are necessary teachers. The danger of the past, though, comes when we allow it
to tag along behind us like a toy duck on a string, quacking it’s way into our
present endeavors. That silly duck belongs back at the Pond of Our Past. What happened,
happened. We cannot alter or change our past truths, and so much suffering is
born out of the relentless pursuit to do so.
Our history can and does inform our future, but in this, the present
moment, our past doesn’t need to exist. In this moment, we just are. Here is where we get to choose. So, in the words of Elsa – let it go.
Scars are signs of survival and hope for others.
The evidence of what a person
has been through is often left behind in the form of a scar. Some of us are
lucky enough to have our scars on the outside for anyone to see. Just by
looking at us, others know we have a story to tell, that we’ve been through
something arduous and come out in victory. Others have scars hidden deeply away
that only the most intimate of friends or family are allowed to see. Both types
of scars have given me the opportunity to tell my story to others, and in so
doing, to learn about myself. My scars have offered proof of my story, but more
importantly, hope for others walking similar paths. The full redemption my
scars may offer has yet to come to fruition, as I’m still busy with this
business of living. It is entirely possible that none of us will ever know the
far-reaching effects of the scars we let others see. Do not shame yourself or
others because of their scars: Embrace the honor of being allowed to know and celebrate
the victories of each and every one.
Your story will be your most powerful influence and
profound gift.
Last November, I chose to
leave the field of marketing and pursue my dream of becoming a therapist. I
started applying to grad schools and studying for the GRE. By pure chance, I
came across a job posting for a Peer Specialist position in a behavioral health
care company. I had never heard the title before, but come to find out that the
main requirement for this job is that you have your own lived experience with a
mental illness. WHAT? For too many years my diagnoses was a reason for being
mistreated, judged, ostracized and “fixed”. Now it’s a means to fulfilling my
dream! Turns out, much of the mental health field is moving to a Peer Based
model and I happen to be lucky enough to be a part of that shift. I work with
persistently and seriously mentally ill people who are in various stages of
recovery. As I continue in my own, I guide others through their recovery by
sharing parts of my experience and story at strategic times. My job is to tell my story – the whole truth of it. My story is
where the power to change is drawn from by others. YOUR story can change
someone else. The risk of vulnerability is worth the chance of honest
connection. Pretending to be perfect with the perfect life will never bring you
the connection and intimacy you desire – there is a very definitive cost to
faking it. So my question to you is, will you risk it?
A lot of people will shame you for your story, but the
worst one will be yourself.
The word “Stigma” means “a
mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or
person.” Usually, disgrace will come from people outside of us, and it often
does. This stigma is painful and dangerous, keeping many people caged in their
fear of judgment and exposure. However, more lethal than the stigma of others
towards us are the stigmas we hold against ourselves. Members of my own family
and select friends, as well as doctors along the way, have been so loudly
convinced that I would never be anything worthwhile that I internalized those
beliefs and discounted my own value. Every time I had a slip in behaviors or gave
into destructive urges I echoed the words of my doubters to myself. “Personal stigma” a fellow Peer Specialist
calls it.
I venture to believe that the
best weapon against stigma, both towards myself and from others, is for us to tell our stories over and over
until we no longer have breath.
You are in charge of your life.
There is no magic formula, no
“right way” and definitely no Perfect Path in this life. There is only you and
the choices you make. You get out of life what you put into it, and your life
becomes what you MAKE it to be. There is great freedom in this, at least in
America, because all of the choices are yours. And so are all the consequences.
So you don’t owe anything to anyone.
Your parents, your religion
even, at times, your friends will try to convince you that they know what is
best for you. Take caution: No one else is going to walk out your life or its
consequences for you. Best that you make the decisions that support your
values, dreams and heart. Build what you want, not what others deem worthwhile.
You define your own success.
Unfortunately, we all have a
picture in our heads of how life is “supposed” to be. We’re meant to graduate
high school, go to college, get married, buy the house, have kids, have a
career, retire, play with the grandkids and die peacefully in our sleep at 98
years old.
I mean, that’s how it all
happened for you, right?
Success is an individual pursuit
and can only be measured as such. What is a victory for one is not for another.
Each of our lives have different challenges that we must face and each us comes
to those obstacles with different skills and abilities. Therefore comparison of
my life to yours as to which is more successful is mutually exclusive.
You define your own success.
You NEED to define your own success. Don’t allow anyone outside of yourself to define your achievements.
Other people are allowed to have their own opinions
and experiences of you, and you’ll recognize your own growth when you can
listen to these and not feel compelled to agree, immediately change, or defend
yourself.
I spent a good deal of my
life altering myself at the mere hint of annoyance or dissatisfaction from
anyone I came into contact with. I literally became who ever people told me to
be just so I could have friends and feel loved.
When I grew tired of that and started to like myself, I felt I had to
defend who I was to those who took issue with my personality or world view out
of fear that I was actually wrong about finding something of worth in myself.
It took time for me to realize that just because someone didn’t like some
aspect of me, it didn’t mean there was something wrong with me. Additionally, it took time to understand that people
are entitled to their opinions and experiences of me, just as I am of them. I
reached the deepest depths of peace when I understood that this entitlement,
nor the content contained therein, were my responsibility. Similarly, no one
can change anyone else except himself or herself. The mission of influential people
in my life to alter me was unfair and I am truly sorry to myself for allowing
their opinions to matter so much. The next time you feel someone pushing you to
take their advice or to “be like so and so, ” remind yourself that who you are
is already Perfectly You. Don’t change for anyone – except yourself.
Thank You
There are many people I wish
to thank for their support and encouragement as I have journeyed through
recovery and learned these lessons through the last eight years. These people
have given their time to listen, their shoulder to cry on, their couch to sleep
on, their finances to help pay for treatment, driven my butt to treatment and
sat with me as I waited to be admitted, eaten with me, laughed with me, kicked
my butt when necessary and celebrated my victories with me. Without each one of
you, I could not celebrate the victory of today. Recovery is never a solo
sport. These words are so meager and insufficient, but outside of living a
healthy life, they are all I have to offer you, please accept my deepest
gratitude: THANK YOU.
Linda Gardner
Jerry Gardner
Sheri and Bob Collins
Kristin and Bob Bieri
Marianna Oja and Matt Graham
Steve and Dawn Swan
Claire Moon
Debbie Lamb
Stephanie and Eric Beutz
Robin Newsome
Megan and Chad Buckendahl
Heather Neill
David Lamb
Christie Ward
