A Testament of Tenacity:

THE BEGINNING:

My earliest childhood memory comes down to one tumultuous day, which I can recall vividly! This was probably the most infamous day of my life, which, conversely, is as memorable as the day my uncle told me we were going to Walt Disney World! It is the day that set into effect, every experience of my existence! It was the day I ran away from my mother's one bedroom apartment! She had been abusing me, like many times before. However, I told myself, this time was going to be different. I couldn't take it anymore! This was the last time! In crisis mode, my autonomic nervous system fully triggered, I was in fight or flight mode, and I chose flight! I ran down the steps of our second floor apartment, with my mother chasing me in a fit of rage, carrying a belt or coat hanger, whichever she had chosen that instance, to scourge me with! I had the advantage being much smaller and quicker than her, so I outran her.

Now, about two blocks away, with no mother in sight, I experienced racing thoughts and mixed feelings, and immediately wondering, "Where am I to go?" In a state of crisis, I quickly figured out that my 72-year-old grandmother was conveniently located only a few blocks away; so I could take refuge there. Once inside, my grandmother saw that something was wrong and I told her what had happened. I would also mention that this wasn't the first occasion, but that it had been going on for a while. The trauma caused me to harbor an enormous amount of fear; fear of my mother, fear of my surroundings, fear of what my future existence would look like!

After digesting what had just happened, my grandmother and uncles decided that the best plan of action would be to put me into foster care, and have my mother evaluated. A lot transpired over the next few months. My mother was seen by a psychiatrist, and she was diagnosed with postpartum depression and schizophrenia. Little did I know that, not to far into the future, I would also exhibit these "mutant genes" underlying these formidable circumstances! Soon thereafter, she would become the newest resident of Clark Summit State Hospital and remain there for the next 15 years! Over my adolescent years, I blamed my mother for all the hardship I had faced thus far in my life. However, I know now, that this wasn't a fair stance for me to take because, needless to say, she was a very sick woman, and she couldn't take care of herself, let alone, a child in that state of mind.

As for myself, I was placed into a more permanent home since my grandmother couldn't take care of me due to her age. It was the summer of 1983 when they apprehended me from my grandmother's home. I would be transitioning from the city of Wilkes Barre to an old farm house in Shickshinny Valley, deep in the mountains of Pennsylvania, going from being an only child to having three foster siblings! So, once again, I was in terror! Just a few weeks prior, I was living with a mother, harboring an undiagnosed disability that caused her to abuse me; and now I would be moving to some remote location, into a family I knew nothing about. I was in shock!

EARLY CHILDHOOD:

I don't recollect much of my early childhood, except that every Friday night I would look forward to taking a van, provided by Luzerne county, from my foster parents house to see my biological family in the city. There my elder uncle and grandmother would give me chores to do, to teach me good work ethic and in turn, they would reward me by taking me on vacation several times per year! We traveled as far north as Massachusetts, and as far south as Walt Disney World, twice! We would also make time to go visit my mother at the hospital once a month. This decade (circa. 1985-1994) was by far the best part of my rearing. If it wasn't for these bonding experiences I had as a child, and a positive foster-family, that never gave up on me; I don't think I would have the optimistic and hopeful outlook on life like I have today.

It got me over the fear of people; and taught me that people were essentially good and most have good motives. Sunday through Friday, I lived with my foster parents and three other foster children. My foster parents were elderly but couldn't be more loving and caring. My foster mother used to love telling the story about our first interaction. I asked her, "When am I going to go back home?" She laughed and genuinely explained to me that her home was my new home now. She was the most wonderful foster parent I could have ever asked for! I loved her with all my heart. Always listening, providing words of wisdom, and always taking the best care of us. Similarly, my foster father was my hero! He was strong, strict, yet compassionate, and understanding, not to mention, quite the ball-buster! I wanted to be just like him!!

ADOLESCENCE:

During my freshman year of high school my foster father had died of cancer. This was extremely hard on me, because I honored him more than anyone I ever knew, and I knew that I would have big shoes to fill as the man of the house. This was a great, yet daunting task for me due to the lack of maturity I had possessed. It was the beginning of a new "me". A "me," that would forever be hard on himself. A "me" that strives for perfection. A "me" that never gives up! My foster mother saw me putting all this unnecessary pressure on myself, and knew there was something just not right with me but I didn't see it. This would also become a distinguishing point in my life, for it was the first time the symptoms of a mental illness began to show. They didn't manifest the same way as my mother's symptoms. I lacked the aggressive nature of my mother. It started out by over-analyzing, rationalizing, and perseverating on everything. My foster mother suggested I should go to counseling, but I wouldn't. I mean what could be wrong with me? I had tons of friends, an exhilarating social life, and was always happy, despite the overactive mind.

I continued this way all through high school and then even into college, not thinking anything of it. I enrolled into premed studies at the University of Scranton in the fall of 1998. Due to my immaturity and poor decision making qualities, I wasn't the ideal student that a premedical major would require. This was mostly due to me binge drinking on the weekends and sometimes during the week as well; I would also "experiment" with other drugs when they were around. Once, I almost killed myself, when I took a hit of ecstasy and drank all night, without knowing that ecstasy severely dehydrates you! I was laid up, with the spins for three days! Needless to say, by graduation in the spring of 2002 my grades weren't nearly as good as they needed to be. However, I still had a strong will to be a physician so I opted to go to the same school for graduate studies to bring my grades up.

During my first semester of grad school I had a realization that I could not continue partying, and be a doctor. So I abruptly quit drinking. I don't recommend this to anyone! I quickly became familiar with the phrase, "I quit drinking and started thinking!" Little did I know that all those years I was just anesthetizing myself with alcohol, and the thinking would remain! This is when things really got complicated! My mind was so hooked on alcohol, that when I quit I became full of racing thoughts! I also think I had a minor identity crisis, and a nervous breakdown! During this time it was common of me to lean on my adviser, who politely suggested I seek out counseling. I took offense to this and saw it as criticism.

However, since I was in a world-of-hurt, and this was the second time in my life that someone close to me would suggest counseling, I figured it was about time I set my ego aside and try it. I wasn't too thrilled about embarking into the world of psychology, even though I aced psych 101. My ego kept telling me I can handle this myself by my own volition, and if I go down this path I am admitting that I have a weakness. That's how egotistical I was as a young man! On the other hand, I was desperate and didn't know any other way to turn. So, I swallowed my pride and went to the counseling department on campus. I didn't know what to expect. I remember that I didn't know how to answer the questions on the initial evaluation, but the psychologist I saw was very easy to talk to. Unfortunately, I saw him only a few times, since the semester was almost over, and consequently I would not return to school, due to the overwhelming symptoms I was experiencing.

ADULTHOOD:

So this left me stuck in the city of Scranton, crazy, and i didn't have the comforting bubble of college to lean on. The only thing I had going for me was that I had a job at a local restaurant serving tables. With that job, came many friends, some of which I still talk to. I moved in with the bartender when my lease at school was up, and we were tight for awhile. Needless to say these friends used to drink, and drink a lot. We were going out every night after work, even though I had these crazy-insane symptoms! So there I was again, self-medicating with booze and the occasional drug! My mind and body couldn't take much more of this, so about that time, the bartender I was living with suggested going for some inpatient treatment at what was then, CMC Medical center. Once I got there all I was concerned with was my diagnosis. I asked the attending physician and he said it was major depression. To my dismay, I stayed there for 28 days, after which I would go back to Wilkes Barre and stay with my grandmother. Once settled in, I would enter a group counseling program in the next town over that met every weekday. The attending psychiatrist put me on seroquel (a psychotropic anti-psychotic) that would alleviate my racing thoughts. I remember the first time I took them, I opted to take three times the proscribed dosage. I was out cold in a few minutes!

THE CO-OCCURRING EXPERIENCE:

Once again, I would quit drinking and drugs, but this time I had support, because it would be the first time I ventured into a 12-step meeting. This, was also a defining experience of my existence because that was when the seed of alcoholism was planted! There was about 100 alcoholics and drug addicts, all laughing, having fun, and socializing! Even though they were all probably a hundred times healthier than I was, I didn't want anything to do with them because I did not feel like I belonged. I mean, in my eyes, I was a premed graduate from a prestigious university! What could I have in common with some drunks off the street? That was the last meeting I would go to until later, when I really found out what rock-bottom was!

I continued attending group counseling for a couple months and stayed on the wagon. My co-occurring disability (this is a disability of two parts: mental illness and drug and/or alcohol abuse) had become easier to manage. Along with this newfound stability, my will and ego would take over again. I thought (which is typical for someone with a co-occurring disability) that I didn't need psychotropic meds anymore and I that I could drink like a gentleman on the weekends. Little did I know, these meds weren't designed to be taken like antibiotics, or to be taken with drugs and alcohol. I quickly learned that the use of drugs and alcohol would overpower the medication's

effects. I also learned, that once you are on meds you have to take them the rest of your life. Sounds like a death sentence, huh? This is due to two quintessential facts: 1. psychotropic medication takes time to build up in your system (about six weeks), 2. The use of mind-altering substances undermines the med's purpose by overpowering them. I went through many years of literal hell until I finally accepted that I could not drink and I had to stay on my meds!

I don't remember much of the next decade because it was a real dark time of my life. The depression got so bad that I wouldn't get out of bed, and the thought of suicide crossed my mind almost daily. This was due to two reasons; the first, was that I was in what I like to call the "guinea pig phase" of my disability. This is where psychiatrists draw straws and try numerous variations of meds to get you into optimal working order. I had many med changes and hospitalizations (over 20), until they found a cocktail that worked. Secondly, my immaturity led me to continue to drink and drug throughout these years. This combination was not only completely frustrating, but utterly DEADLY!!

Sometime during this phase I would come back to central PA and be taken in by my foster mother. Throughout this time I would be in and out of two local psychiatric wards in Bloomsburg and Danville respectively. Some of the stress let up because I started to go with the flow and not try to control everything in my life. I can't differentiate among the many hospital stays, but I do recall the first time I was introduced to the local mental health corporation called CMSU. I was in Geisinger (Danville), probably for suicidal ideations, when a case manager, just out of college, would get to know me, to see if he could be of assistance to my case. We hit it off, and I was immediately placed into the case management program, where I am still provided mental health services today. The caseworker at that time (2005) placed me in the CHAS program (a community based housing program that concentrated on meeting personal goals). I would participate in this program for the next two years and work on myself and greatly improve my quality of life. During my stay I began living on social security disability and bought my first new car.

I left that program when it was time and I was doing better than ever. I wasn't depressed. I wasn't suicidal! On a sociological level I attained a job with a Fortune 500 company! Higher level CMSU employees even noticed and acknowledged this by having me tell my story at the first annual recovery conference, which was in front of hundreds of individuals receiving services and their supports. At this time I was on top of the world! This wouldn't last long; however, because due to my nasty co-occurring disease, I would relapse. Have you picked up on the pattern here? Yes, I relapse when things are going well!

ROCK-BOTTOM:

I had three long-term drug and alcohol relapses since that time, which included three isolated rehab stays, in two different rehabs over the next eight years. Before we get to that, I would like to illustrate how awful my disease of addiction is, if I were to entertain the thought of using again. I can't be adamant enough when I say, "It robs you of everything!" I went from being a happy-go-lucky, Irish lad to worthless coke-head. I went from working for a Fortune 500 company, to selling just about everything I owned, including my car, to support my habit.

The first treatment center I attended, Cove Forge, was a dual diagnosis facility near Altoona, PA. To summarize my experience there, I must remark on how well this rehab was coordinated, from the majestic placement in the mountains of the Appalachian trail, to the extensive treatment I received there! I stayed there for 28 days, continually going over the first three steps of the program. The guys there said I looked like the rapper, "Fat Joe," however, I was later nicknamed Buddah! I am pretty sure it was due to my laid back attitude and characteristics of being a pacifist when it came down to fighting. I spent part of my stay in the local behavioral unit because of a mishap with one of my medications. About two weeks into the program, I remember speaking to my counselor about placement after Cove Forge.

I didn't feel as though I had the skills necessary to remain clean and sober once I got out of the social confines of a rehab. So we looked into some halfway houses. With input from different counselors, I narrowed it down to three different places, all in the west side of the state. I ended up at a place called, Another Way. It had a good reputation, as did the other two, but this one didn't look like the typical halfway house. It had a private pond to go fishing in, individual bedrooms, a swimming pool (which unfortunately wasn't functional), and it was a duel diagnosis facility, something I strongly needed! Sound's perfect, right? Not for this alcoholic! After a confrontation with the facility's management, my ill-tempered ego and will got in the way once again, sending me packing to the local homeless shelter! I wouldn't spend one moment at the shelter due to the fact that I couldn't find it! My driver just left me in the middle of the street! Having been left to my own devices in an unfamiliar city, it didn't take long for me to have to reach out for help. I asked a random desk clerk at a local business to please point me in the direction of a hospital. She was very understanding and did one better. She called the hospital to get somebody out there to assess me. I must have had early sobriety written all over my face that day! Soon thereafter, two girls showed up to see if, once again, I needed to go to the psych-ward.

I was a resident of that hospital for nearly two weeks, when I would call back home to my caseworker at CMSU, and he got a bus ticket for the way back to Columbia county. Through all this I remained clean and sober, only because I was incapacitated for the majority of the time. By now, I had about two months sober and I was grateful that I had it because it motivated me to keep going. I knew that in order for me to do this, I had to follow what I was suggested: 90 meetings in 90 days, no dating for the first year, keep it simple, and easy does it. I was grateful to get sober with a group of people all coming into the program about the same time. By just taking in these few concepts, I managed to stay sober for three years. By the third year I felt that I had learned everything I needed to know about alcoholism and drug addiction. However, I wasn't happy, joyous, and free. I was someone just going through the motions. People in the program call this being a "dry drunk." I thought it was going to be easy, but that is not one of the promises of the program. You have to put in at least half the amount of effort as you put into your drinking and using career. This meant you had to change everything in 180 degrees. Even though I went to meetings, had a sponsor, was doing the next right thing; my sobriety was still very precarious. I was just going through the motions without any sort of quality sobriety. I never surrendered, which happens to be the first step, the only step you have to do 100%. This led to my first relapse.

It would be over a year until I returned to "the rooms." "This time was going to be it," I said, going on the wagon for good. But as any good addict or alcoholic knows; this is a program that works one day at a time. Consequently, I relapsed in nine months and then back to Cove Forge! This time I stayed another 28 days and left without a certificate of completion. My ego and will told me I can do this and I didn't need any program to do so! Needless to say, I got out and used for another year and a half. Somehow, by an act of providence I got back into the rooms and gave it my best effort once again. I remember thinking, "This time is going to be different! This time I'll surrender, this time I had a larger foundation!" Once again, I did a 90 in 90 (that means 90 meetings in 90 days), got a sponsor, took all the suggestions, but yet I felt like I was missing the point. I got it in my mind that I was consciously relapsing with out using any substances. So to me, my answer was that I needed a safe environment, and where do you find that, rehab! At first I tried to do the research on my own to no avail. They kept telling me that I needed outpatient counseling not rehab since I haven't used in over a year. I adamantly disagreed. The only answer I would accept would be going to rehab, even if it does require another relapse! So I did exactly that, and used, so I could once again go back to the comfortable place away from society called rehab!

This time it was another co-occurring facility named Roxbury in Shippensburg, PA. I remember commenting on how rustic this little town was. I stayed there for over two months. Upon arriving home, my current case manager placed me in the CHAS program once again. Today I can honestly say that I am doing better than ever before, since I had been diagnosed. I attend a 12-step program daily, mostly on zoom. I have a sponsor that understands my co-occurring disability. I have a certified recovery specialist always keeping me in check. I am sticking with the winners and I am sober over a year now! I do this by focusing on the eight dimensions of wellness, and keeping them up to par: emotional, spiritual, intellectual, physical, environmental, financial, occupational, and social. I have a part-time job in the mental health field and continue to supplement my income with social security disability.

So as you can see, I've had some pretty serious obstacles in my life. All the old wives tales you hear have become true for me, especially, "If it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger!" Today I have a choice, a choice of being in the problem or the solution; I choose the solution! This I believe because, even though you might think I'm crazy (this is certified by the way); I wouldn't take any of it back, because it made me the man I am today! I think my foster father would have been proud.