When the light in your life is extinguished, how does one continue to move forward? There is no easy, simple answer, but in my story, I am eternally grateful and appreciative for those who have supported me throughout my darkest hours. There is no doubt that without my mentors, friends, and trained mental health professionals, I would not have made it to where I am now.
As a young child, I experienced my parent's divorce, witnessed siblings and parents battle addiction, and was the victim of abuse. At the time, the significance and repercussions of their divorce were unbeknownst to me. Although, the ensuing years would impart to me a masterclass in suffering. Initially, there were no noticeable changes other than the new custody arrangements on weekends. At the start, my parents seemed to be cooperating and handling the new arrangements well enough. However, below the surface level, innumerable predicaments were occurring.
After a year or so of normalcy, the world around us started to unravel. Food in the pantry and refrigerator became sparse, and the electricity-water blackouts began. Despite the court having ordered my father to pay alimony and child support for each of my siblings and me, and my mother starting two jobs to compensate for the lost income, we were impoverished. Ultimately, this was a result of a growing alcohol and drug addiction my mother was using to cope. Her addiction quickly earned our house the reputation as the local hotspot for partying and drug activity. As a nine-year-old, I was entirely naïve to what was happening around me. All I knew was that the adults surrounding me were unreliable, untrustworthy, violent, and ill-tempered. One defining moment was the physical abuse by my mother's boyfriend. He would drink alcohol and become violent, hitting anything and everything in his path. The worst of it was a broken wrist dealt to my mother, which I only learned the true origins of later as an adult.
Beginning shortly after my mother's addiction, my older brother and sister started. Being exposed to the constant coming and going of drug addicts and my siblings' inability to cope with the tumultuous environment, they began experimenting. Both, including my mother, had stents of stays at rehabilitation and behavioral centers for suicide attempts and relapses. I watched this pattern play out for a decade, finally ending when I moved out at eighteen.
For years, I was unaware of the adversity I experienced with mental health, battling crippling anxiety, a hyperactive fight-or-flight response, and debilitating bouts of depression without knowing what was happening. I avoided many opportunities for fear of failing, an inability to cope with change, and having no experience with healthy relationships. These amounted to severe long-term setbacks in my professional and personal life.
The event responsible for transforming my life occurred on August 4, 2018. While at work, I was robbed at gunpoint by two armed assailants. At this moment, my highly fragile, armored ego of 25 years, developed to protect myself, was destroyed. Thanks to the robbery, I began a journey of healing. I was offered Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) through Ohio's Crime Victim Compensation Program, started practicing self-care routines, and found my passion for service to others. Without this history of suffering, I would not be who I am today, nor would I be pursuing a degree in Nursing. I hope to use these experiences to be a beacon of light for others suffering and to serve as a role model to others.