A Journey Toward Radical Recovery

I wrote this snippet (taken from a longer manifesto) during a particularly serious psychotic episode about 8 years ago. My physician had told me to write down everything that was going on in my head, so I did. That’s a little sample of what came out. Scary? Maybe. Poetic and fascinating? Definitely. Welcome to my head.

At that time, I had been working in the mental health field for about 10 years. I was working in a decision support center that used CommonGround, a Web-based app to facilitate shared decision making, helping people with mental health concerns find their personal medicine—all the things you can do that help make, and keep, you well. I thought I knew myself pretty well. After all, I had pieced together enough recovery to move across the country and start fresh on my own. I had pieced together enough recovery to start and finish a master’s program in psychology. I had pieced together enough recovery to be independent, working, off all benefits and entitlements, and respected at work and in my social circle. I had a great family that readily offered its support and encouragement. But, I had not the level of wellness that I’m living with today. I had no personal medicine of my own, even though I was helping others develop theirs.

It wasn’t until after this psychotic episode that my recovery took a radical turn for the better. I had to get serious if I didn’t want something like this to disable me again. That’s the thing with schizophrenia—you never know when its symptoms will crop up. It could be during times of huge stress, or it could be during times of elevated turmoil. But there is usually some kind of stressor. Until about 7 years ago, any kind of major life incident would play out in an episode, either as a major mood breakdown or a psychotic break. However, since I started getting serious about my life and my wellness and found my personal medicine, I have gone through some of the most stressful times in my life with virtually no symptoms at all. And the ones that I have experienced have been mild and very workable. What’s the change, you ask? Self-care, self-awareness, self-accountability, and radical recovery.

In my 20s, I had some of my worst experiences. One hospital stay followed another. I was on Social Security Disability Insurance and Medicaid because I could not work. I took 23 pills a day when I was 23 years old. I was self-injuring and burning myself because the voices in my head told me that this was what I needed to do to stay sane and relieve the pressure in my brain. I was tortured by strange delusions that scared me and made me feel like reality was something that eluded me. Fear was a constant in my life. I was just existing and moving through my days and my life like a victim of mental illness, not as a survivor. I was not even surviving at that point, let alone thriving. I had no hope. I had no one to hold that hope for me (except maybe my parents, who were suffering almost as much as I did, and my best friend, who was a constant supporter). But I did know that if life could get better, I wanted that for myself. I desperately wanted to get better and live life again. I don’t know exactly where I pulled that shred of hope from, but I slowly started to piece together some stability. I started to dig deep, and this was just the beginning.

Eight years ago, my recovery was not where it is today. Shortly after I had written the above series of thoughts during a psychotic break that had resulted in a 4-day hospital stay, I realized that I needed to make some major changes in my life if I wanted to get serious about holistic wellness. Even though I had spent most of the past 10 years working toward building a life that was worth living and that I was proud of, something was still missing. I was smoking cigarettes, taking multiple medications, and just making it through the day. I needed to get radical about my wellness. Until that point, I had lived a largely sedentary life, except for the occasional fleeting gym membership (which never lasted for more than a month). I was working as a peer specialist in the peer support world, but I was not practicing wellness on the level that I needed to. I had to make some serious life changes, because I certainly was not being a role model or holding hope for those I served.

It would take a year, but in 2017, I quit smoking. This achievement was huge for me because I had been smoking cigarettes and drinking massive quantities of coffee since I was 17 years old. I was in a relationship with someone I really loved (for the first time in my life), and she hated that I smoked. So, I quit smoking for her. After being smoke free for about 3 weeks, I found that I felt better, could taste better, could breathe better, and could smell better. It was the first time in my adult life that I did not feel shackled by an addiction to nicotine. I also needed something to do besides just sitting around, so I turned to running. I wasn’t running fast (and I’m still not), and I wasn’t running long distances at first (although I have since completed two half-marathons), but it got me moving and made me fall in love with movement. I ran regularly, and when the pandemic hit in 2020, I got even more serious about fitness. I started exercising daily, and it wasn’t just running. I turned to triathlon training (exercising in an indoor pool and on a stationary bike and a treadmill) and completed about six indoor triathlons during the next 2 years and even bought a treadmill and bike. I lost about 45 pounds and was in the best shape of my life. But most of all, exercise brought me joy.

I also turned to self-growth. I started using social media for good, not gain, and found people who were inspiring; I dedicated myself to doing good for myself. I started journaling, writing, and keeping up with my fitness. I got into yoga and breath work. I was running in races and challenging myself to new feats of greatness.

As both my self-awareness and my wellness increased, my need for medications decreased and so did my reliance on the “system.” I was actively letting go of what no longer served me and actively embracing that which fed my soul. I devoured books by people I admired and went on writing, mindfulness, and wellness retreats and took workshops about becoming a better human and living life authentically and meaningfully.

Taking an active and dedicated role in my healing was key to my recovery. And it is still going on. I think people think that recovery is an event—a onetime thing that happens to someone, but it’s not. Recovery is ever evolving. Was I in recovery when I wrote the manifesto at the beginning of this piece? Yes, absolutely. Was I as grounded and healthy as I am today? Probably not. But I was still in a better place than I was at 26. And at 26, I was in a better place than at 23. Recovery constantly grows and evolves.

Am I saying that exercise, yoga, a meditation practice, and doing some hard work are the key to managing mental illness? Nope. It’s all those things and more. It’s all those things and being able to be resilient enough to take accountability for one’s own life and own wellness. It’s about working hard and getting serious about health, doing what needs to be done, and finding what works; this is individual, personal medicine. For me, it’s exercising regularly, journaling, meditation, yoga, writing, reading, having a spiritual practice, staying connected to friends and family, watching my nutrition, never going back to smoking again, staying active and busy with a schedule, having found meaningful work and a career that fulfills me, holding hope for myself (and also holding it for others who may be struggling), and constantly challenging myself to find things in my life that bring me unbridled joy. It’s also about letting go—letting go of old ways, things that no longer serve me, and the elements that rob me of joy and gratitude.

As I focus on the present with clear eyes, I can honestly say that my 48 years thus far have been an amazing journey—filled with both triumphs and pitfalls, joys and sorrows, and moments of clarity and confusion. At this point in my life, I have come to realize that I learn every day. Hopefully, I am learning enough to make a difference. Every day, I make a conscious effort to learn enough so that I can apply that knowledge to my life and hopefully to collaborate with my fellow advocates to promote growth, richness of spirit, and, most importantly, change. As I embrace, rather than reject, all the changes that life throws my way, I find myself open to the myriad possibilities that are available all around me. Every day, I’m on a search for new and innovative personal medicines that may be a new key to unlocking my wellness. As I think about my beliefs, I notice fundamental concepts that I find myself focusing on. They include creativity, celebration, search, imagination, desire, compassion, mindfulness, intuition, expression, and, most importantly, . . . hope.