My Personal Recovery Story
To give you a glimpse of my personal recovery story
requires that sadly I share bits and pieces of my
illness story with you as well. I do this because it is
important that you know that those who will be in
your care who are ill, can and in fact most times do
get well. In the program of AA when one share’s
their story they share what it was like, what
happened, and what it is like now, I will attempt to
do that as I share with you my story.
First let me begin by saying that I am most
definitely a walking miracle. By all intents and
purposes I should not be standing before you today.
But before I get to that part of my story, let me
share with you 10 things that I think are interesting
about me.
1. I attended over 40 different schools by the time I
graduated from high school.
2. I prefer the mountains to the beach.
3. I am addicted to Starbucks Hazelnut cold coffee
– with 7 Splenda’s!
4. I am owned by 2 dogs and 2 cats.
5. I love to travel.
6. One of my favorite things to do is shop for
clothes.
7. I was kissed by Shamu the killer whale when I
was 13 years old.
8. One of my relatives crossed the Potomac with
General George Washington.
9. I love to snorkel in the Bahamas.
10. I have a dry sense of humor.
Now let me share with you 10 things that I do not
like that I have had to experience:
1. Most green vegetables.
2. Hot weather.
3. Driving in the rain.
4. Losing my cell phone signal.
5. Missing a flight connection.
6. Driving through traffic in Atlanta.
7. Getting a flat tire on the interstate 15 miles from
the next exit and not having the correct tire iron
to change the tire.
8. Conflict with others.
9. Having to be in the hospital.
10. Being labeled as mentally ill.
I will begin my story in the late childhood/early teen
years of my life. This part of my story I am sad to
say is the illness part, but if you will bear with me, I
promise that you will hear that recovery has been
possible for me.
Problems began for me when I was about 10 years
old when I told my mom I wanted to kill myself
because of how I was feeling and circumstances that
had happened to me. Her response was to bring me
a knife and tell me if I was going to kill myself then
to do it right. Fast forward with me to age 11 when I
was so depressed with life that I took a whole bottle
of baby aspirin. Forward with me if you will to age
12 when I told my mom I wanted to be dead and was
hospitalized for the first time for suicidal ideation.
Come with me to age 13 when I began to scream at
my mom for mostly no reason at all, slamming
doors, and began cutting on my arms. From ages 13
to 16 this was my norm. Age 16 began 20 years of
living with bulimia-nervosa. Age 18 I attempted to
go to college but quit before the first term was half
over because I could not concentrate. I also started
having times where I could go for four to five nights
without sleep. My doctor actually did a sleep study
and said the only thing wrong was that I was
drinking caffeine to late in the day. Since I was not
going to college I entered the working world. Money
equaled spending to me. Let us now fast forward to
the age of 28 when I started experiencing the
devastating effects of depression again. It did not
help that two weeks after being diagnosed with
depression that my birth mother passed away. Now
let us fast forward two years and I am on disability
because I could not get out of bed most days to get
to work due to the depression that would not let me
get out from under the covers. I also began the first
of over 50 psychiatric hospitalizations in my life.
Diagnosis: Chronic Major Depression. Medications
given were not helping so I self medicated with
alcohol not knowing that alcohol was a depressant
itself. Fast forward to 1997 when I overdosed on 12
Soma’s while I was inpatient at a psychiatric facility.
We will now fast forward to November 1998 when I
recognized that I was in fact an alcoholic. December
2nd of that year was my last drink, and a day at a
time I still choose not to drink or use alcohol as a
way to medicate my symptoms away. Let us take a
short step to January 1999. Once again I am in the
hospital, so what is new right? Oh, but wait, this
time I have a doctor more observant than any of the
ones in the past. He asks me questions the other
doctors did not ask. Did I recognize that I was
talking fast or that my words were clipped? Did I
have frequent times where I could go for days
without sleep and then find myself in a deep
depression? Were there times that the world just
moved to slow for me? Yes, Yes, Yes! Remember I
asked you to stick with me because here is where my
story begins to change. My doctor told me he had
good news and bad news for me. He gave me the
bad news first, I had been misdiagnosed for 9 years,
the good news, the correct diagnosis for me was
bipolar disorder and there was hope for me. Not
only could I get better while I was in the hospital,
but I could have a life where I felt better. Not that I
believed him at the time. He was honest with me
and told me it would take time to find the right
medication to help me not have the drastic mood
swings and reduce the suicidal ideations I
experienced so often. He was so right. And as time
went by my hospitalizations did become less
frequent, the thoughts of wanting to die were not so
prevalent and I did begin to feel better.
I was lucky to connect with a doctor who sees me
not as an illness but as a person who lives with an
illness. I have only been hospitalized three times
since I began seeing her in 2002. When I see her she
asks me about me, about my pets, about how my
trip went (I travel to St. Simons Island, GA to see
her), how my job is going, do I have any stressors
and if I do how am I handling them. Only after we
have chatted for a period of time does she then ask
me two questions related to the illness I live with: am
I having any side effects from my medications that
are distressing to me, and have I experienced any
problems that I want to talk about with her.
Let us now fast forward to 2004 when I decided I
wanted to volunteer at the local mental health
facility since I knew I would never be able to work
again. I began volunteering on the women’s
substance abuse unit and two weeks later was
offered a full time job. After two months I went to
my supervisor and told her I was going to have to
quit because the evening hours were not conducive
to my health, she told me that I was not quitting,
that instead she would create a part time position
for me. Two months later she came to me and told
me that I was going to apply to take the training to
be a certified peer specialist. My response was “no
way.” I had been labeled so often that I was not
going to be called certified and I let it be known.
Needless to say I still had to apply. Obviously I was
accepted for the training or I would not be standing
here before you today! I went to the first day of
training begrudgingly. My van broke down so I
thought I would not have to go, the agency sent a
company van to take me. By the end of the day I
was inspired for the first time in the belief in the
hope of recovery and wanted to share that hope and
that a person did not have to identify their self by
the diagnosis they had.
In 2005 I received my certification and by 2006 had
been the program director of two different peer
support programs. Fast forward finally to August
of 2008, when I accepted the position of certified
peer specialist for the Medical College of Georgia.
This is a job that I thoroughly enjoy! I have the
unique opportunity of educating residents, medical
and nursing students and faculty about recovery. I
see a byproduct of my job is reminding the residents
that the individuals that they work with who are
not at a place of wellness in their lives, that wellness
does happen.
It is important that I share with you that my dr. and
medications are not the means to an end when it
comes to my wellness. I have to have supporters in
my life. People who know me so well that they can
point out to me when things are different and I can
take the necessary steps to stay as well as possible. I
have tools that I use such as a Wellness Recovery
Action Plan. Because I am a recovering alcoholic I
have found that AA is crucial for me as well as
utilizing the sponsor that I have. It has been
important that I educate myself about what I can
do to take responsibility for my wellness and not put
that responsibility on my dr. or others.
When asked what recovery means to me I do not
respond by saying that it is about being on
medication that helps me stay well, instead I
respond that recovery to me is about having a life
that has its ups and downs, having independence
and empowerment, knowing my limitations, facing
them head on and often overcoming them, and
having respect for myself as a person.
In closing I just want to say that the person standing
before you has a name and that name is Denise, and
I am not an illness, but a person who has a life worth
living, and who has a story to tell.