My child­hood was invis­i­bly rough. My fam­i­ly was poor, but we had hous­ing and the gnaw­ing empti­ness of our hun­gry bel­lies was not observ­able. My dad was abu­sive, but words don’t leave marks and he had good aim with his belt. My family’s reli­gion was not a com­fort, but a weapon used to com­pel silent obe­di­ence.

At six­teen, I was lured into the clutch­es of a preda­tor lever­ag­ing my family’s pover­ty and despair. Iso­lat­ed from their peers, there was no one to ques­tion my parent’s deci­sion to allow this wolf in wool to take pos­ses­sion of me. Under the guise of edu­ca­tion­al oppor­tu­ni­ties, legal guardian­ship was freely trans­ferred and I was spir­it­ed to the oppo­site coast.

At eigh­teen, it seemed as though I had escaped my abusers. I was sur­round­ed by a tru­ly lov­ing com­mu­ni­ty and was encour­aged to com­plete my stud­ies and pur­sue a bet­ter life. Want­i­ng to pre­vent oth­ers from expe­ri­enc­ing this fate, I devot­ed myself to help­ing oth­ers. How­ev­er, dark and sin­is­ter; patient and cun­ning, my trau­ma was still with me. My emo­tion­al wounds were left to fes­ter.

Years lat­er, strate­gies I had devel­oped to help me cope with the resid­ual pain stopped work­ing. My need for con­trol mor­phed into dis­or­dered eat­ing. Repet­i­tive habits used to stave off intru­sive thoughts left my body cov­ered in scars and lesions. I became with­drawn and afraid. At times I
was unable to per­form basic hygiene. Dai­ly I would plead with the Uni­verse for the abil­i­ty to no longer “be.”

In order to pur­sue recov­ery, I had to face the dark places. I had to acknowl­edge that helpers need help as well. I had to silence the inter­nal­ized voic­es of homo­pho­bia, misog­y­ny, and tox­ic mas­culin­i­ty that were not mine. I had to accept myself as a gen­der non-con­form­ing, bisex­u­al indi­vid­ual. I need­ed help.

I received help. Now I have hope. NAMI Lex­ing­ton has pro­vid­ed me access to groups and recov­ery based edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als. It has giv­en me the oppor­tu­ni­ty to share my recov­ery sto­ry with my peers through NAMI Lex­ing­ton pro­gram­ming. It also pro­vides edu­ca­tion and sup­port for my part­ner and grown chil­dren as they nav­i­gate recov­ery along­side me.
I believe that recov­ery is pos­si­ble. I have found tools that work for me. In addi­tion to meds and ther­a­py, I rely on mind­ful­ness and grat­i­tude. Some days my recov­ery is remem­ber­ing to breathe. As I inhale and exhale, my focus is entire­ly con­sumed. I live breath by breath. I inhale. I exhale. I live. I am breath­ing recovery.

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