HPR Hero CINDY-WALKER-WHITE, USA (Autobiography)

I'm an addict named Cindy. There is no logical reason for me to be an addict. I come from a good home, a good family, no substance abuse on either side of the family. I wasn't abused. I wasn't neglected. My childhood was good.

It isn’t every time that we fall into an unfortunate scheme of things. For the most part, we make our own choices in life, good and bad both. The consequences of those then determine our life, sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently.

Being an adopted child, I guess I'm proof that it's genetic and I was born this way. I was taken home by my adoptive parents when I was only six months old, so as far as I'm concerned they are my parents. I have a brother, 3 years younger than me, and a sister, 6 years younger than me. I grew up on 10 acres of land just north of Atlanta Georgia. We had large gardens, pastures with cows, and a pigpen. We canned our vegetables. Well, mom, aunts and grandmothers did!

We did not own the biggest and the fanciest house but we always had so much good food to eat, and so many cousins to play with, and large family gatherings and big holiday celebrations. It wasn't perfect. There were family squabbles, mom and dad had arguments, and some Christmases weren't lavish. But I look back and see it as good. Did I see it that way then? Probably not, but what kid does see their life as good when they're a kid?

The only part of my childhood that wasn't good was my dad's prolonged suffering after a work related injury. He was a firefighter, and he fell off a ladder from a height of about 30 feet. It caused a blockage from his heart to his brain and that caused hydrocephalus. The surgeons operated on my daddy 14 times in 6 years, but it never seemed to work the way it was supposed to, and my dad died a few days before my 15th birthday.

My mom amazes me. Somehow, through all that, she managed to take care of a sick husband, raise three children, keep a full time job, and keep the house clean. I remember a lot of aunts, uncles, grandparents, and family friends stepping in and helping out and making sure that we were never alone if mom had to be at work or the hospital. Mom's sister had a lake house, and we were allowed almost unlimited access to it, so mom took us there a lot. It was awesome. I loved swimming and waterskiing and those are things I want to start doing again. I remember one trip to my aunt's lake house as a teenager, we were playing trivial pursuit with my mom's best friend and her kids. A question came up that made my mom and her friend start singing some song ‘in 1814 we took a little trip, along with colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississippi, we took a little beans’...I even remember the tune!

High school sucked for me. I just never felt like I belonged. I wasn't athletic even though I played softball. I wasn't a cheerleader. I wasn't one of the preppy kids. I didn't feel like I fit in with the genius whiz kid types either even though we took the same classes. I just didn't feel like I fit in, you know?

I used drugs for the first time when I was 9 when I stole some appetite suppressants. Somehow, I managed to graduate high school on time in 1988, but shortly after that I spun out and stayed spun for almost twenty years, 2 marriages, countless felony drug arrests, and three trips to the "state spa" to serve prison time. I married the first husband because I was tired of living on the streets, sleeping in my car or on whoever's couch I could crash on.

That actually seems to be a common theme amongst all the addicts I've met in recovery. The thing I love about recovery: when you look around in a meeting, there are all types: black, white, and gay, straight, young, old, bikers, doctors...all in the same room, all getting along, all helping each other stay clean. I guess I found my people after all.

I lived through almost 20 years of active addiction. I don't remember so much of it. What I do remember is almost like bits and pieces. I remember that the first husband was physically and verbally abusive. The second husband was a decent guy but got tired of my excuses and my poor choices. I'd have gotten tired of me too, to be honest. I was so drunk and sick with alcohol poisoning.

I knew then that I just needed to start over and really work my way out or that was the end. I took baby steps like my life depended on it, and what I discovered was that my life DID depend on it. Once I started, it got easier.

I did exactly what my drug court counselor suggested. I went to twelve step meetings. For the first time, I had to be of service to somebody. Anybody. I just had to help others.

And that’s when I learnt, the power of doing something for others.

Eventually, I met a man in 2008 and we are still together today. I remember experiencing a moment of deep peace and serenity on April 9, 2009. A tornado was destroying the world around us, while he and I were huddled in the center of the house. The noise was unbelievable, and I almost burst out laughing wondering what atheists did in moments like that. I feared I was about to die and the deepest sense of peace washed over me.

With him, I have finally realized that it is so true that someone else can't make you happy; that someone can only enhance the happiness that I have found inside myself. He enhances my happiness. He makes me laugh. Laughter, true laughter like we share together, is so precious.

The happiest moments of my life have been some deeply spiritual moments that have come at such random times. Once we were in the yard which is in the middle of a large field. I was surrounded by waving grasses. We had scaffolding set up, and the wind that seems to constantly blow at that property was whistling through the scaffolding. I stood there in that wind, staring at the sky, listening to that whistling sound, and I realized how small and insignificant I was in relation to the universe and I was so at peace.

People helped me because someone helped them when they got clean.

They gave to me what had so freely been given to them. I was taught that I could not pay them back, I had to "pay it forward". I was told that helping others was part of getting my own life back. I was so desperate to find something different that I just started helping others and it worked so I keep doing it. Mostly, it's the little things. When I see the neighbor who just had shoulder surgery struggling to get groceries in the house, I stop my car and help him carry the groceries in.

I share my experience, strength, and hope with anybody who asks to hear it. I write for an online group blog open to all. As contributors, we put a voice to the things left unsaid - not for want of a teller, but for lack of an understanding ear. Alone, we are small, together, we are unstoppable.

Today I also remain an integral part of my recovery group. But I sit on the other side of the table, for I need to ‘pay it forward’.

If someone asks me to sponsor her, I sponsor her. If a newcomer needs a recovery book I buy it and give it to that newcomer. If I am asked to chair a meeting, I chair it. I do a lot of work online, describing the realities of reintegration after prison to sensitize our society. Part of what makes reintegrating into society after being in prison so difficult is healing from the experience that landed a person in prison in the first place. Many ex-offenders are saddled with PTSD from prison itself, and many struggle with guilt over the offense that sent them there.  Aside from working through all the random little things that crop up in daily life and tackling the major issues of employment, living arrangements and repairing relationships, ex-offenders need to address the mental and emotional ramifications of prison and release. These are the things that aren’t so easy to let go, the things that keep people awake at night, the things that might very well land them back in prison. Things like dealing with the guilt of what landed them in prison; the depression and fatigue that comes with trying to rebuild a life, facing obstacles at every turn; the fear of dealing with law enforcement in any circumstance, even when one is the victim or knows for absolute certainty they have done NOTHING wrong.

It is the RARE prison facility that has any kind of mental health care available for inmates; no therapy, no medications, no follow-up care. Inmates are left to deal with the guilt of their offense on their own. Prisons don’t do anything to help these people prepare for life after prison, or even to live with themselves and what they’ve done. Granted, not all offenders feel remorse, but those that do deserve some kind of counseling to help them deal with it.

The guilt over having caused someone else’s death, even though the other person wasn’t blameless, is soul-crushing and crippling. People need to know that being the surviving driver in a two-impaired-driver-crash is traumatic. People need to understand that some offenders truly feel remorse and need help to deal with the trauma. If people don’t find the right course and acceptance back into society, and a way to forgive themselves, they would return to prison again, sooner or later.

The editor I worked with on that project said that the whole thing changed her perspective on ex-offenders, the criminal justice system, and reintegration. She said that before working on that with me, she always assumed that anybody who couldn't reintegrate into society just didn't want to and had nobody to blame but themselves.

In that moment, I almost felt like all my time in prison, all my struggling to stay out of prison and become a productive and responsible member of society, was worth it. I'm starting to see more of this change in attitude in mainstream society, too, for what that's worth.

My neighbor, who I'll call mimi, said that getting to know me and talking to me about my history and my addiction, has helped her understand her own children better. I get mails all the time, thanking me for opening people’s eyes. “This is a sad, but good story...it shows the stereotype and prejudice that exists for ex-offenders. Thanks for sharing your story!” are common reactions of all the people active on my social blogs.

In helping others, I learnt that it has been the only thing instrumental in my recovery. With an online blog that I write posts for, I find that helping other addicts out of their addictions helps me focus on the positive, helps me be grateful.

I make myself appreciate the sun, or the cool breeze, or the way the leaves look as they change color, or the way my little dog's fur feels when I rub my face on her head.

For me, the meaning of life or the purpose of life is just to live it, to appreciate it, to enjoy it. I existed in a drugged haze for so long that I truly feel that I must grab each moment and experience it to its fullest.

If I'm having a bad day, I have found that helping someone else does me better than words can say. Other people matter today. Before I got clean, other people were just a means to an end or something. Today, each and every person I encounter is beautiful just as they are, perfectly imperfect and perfectly human. 

Addiction was all about me. Recovery, and by extension life, are all about US.

Life is about the little moments that take one's breath away, and those moments are all around us if we just open our eyes to them.

I am now building a community with the love of my life. He has acquired some land, almost 200 acres. We are working toward moving there and growing our own vegetables. So I see my future moving toward something simpler, something more sustainable, something quieter.

We want it to be open to any who wishes to live there. We want to build a community, where people know each other and help each other and care about each other. We want to live a life that is more about living in the moment.

Like, sometimes I think my dog is smarter than I am. If I asked my dog "what time is it?" My dog would look at me like I'm crazy. See, my dog has no concept of time. If she did understand what "time" was, she would just tell me that it is "right now" and right now it is time to play, or run, or stand there and squeak a toy, or roll in something stinky, or eat a treat, or lick my face off, or any of the other ways my dog expresses joy or enjoys life. My dog gets it.

I want my future to be about the moments, about the people around me, about trying to make the world, or at least my corner of it a better place.

Cindy Walker White, you allowed for all of your experiences to uncover so many hidden truths of our society. You have helped this world to be less judgmental and more welcoming and accepting. Thank you!

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HPR HERO SIMONE WALSH

HPR HERO SIMONE WALSH

Words broke her. She now uses words to heal others.

Sticks and stones may break ones bones. But words.......We know how the rest of the saying goes. But in our next story, words did break. It broke a person’s sense of self confidence and with it, a will to go on in life.

“I was just not good enough for anything whatsoever.” In her twenties, Simone Walsh was convinced of her own 'destiny'. Having lost the drive to lead a life that her contemporaries had, Simone was finally diagnosed with clinical depression and kept under suicide watch for a better part of her early thirties.

“I was happy at my job. Having worked in my company for 5 years prior to that, everything was going the way they were supposed to. I gave a hundred percent to my job responsibilities, I had good colleagues and there was mutual respect and understanding amongst all.”

All of which had apparently started to change when a new manager came in and took over Simone’s department. The two years that followed became a “living hell” for Simone as she fell prey to her new manager’s unceasing criticism of her.

“It was non-stop. She tormented me day in and day out. I got no break from all the negativity when I finally approached her directly in hopes of understanding what had gone so horribly wrong in the way I worked, and why she was so very harsh towards me,” laments Simone.

A heart to heart talk with her manager confused Simone even more as her manager only laughed Simone’s concerns off saying there was nothing wrong. Instead, she said that she thought Simone was just “awesome” and she was “just mistaken”.

Had she had truly misunderstood her manager? Simone was convinced of her own delusions and returned to work with a new hope and promised to work even harder and with even more dedication than ever before.

However, once outside of the meeting, the verbal abuse on her continued, only becoming worse with each passing day. “How can anyone be as stupid as you?” ‘Is there anything at all that you can do right?” became daily words Simone just couldn’t escape. The more Simone tried to get better at her work, the more she was pushed back by her manager. “Do you know you are the absolute lowest on your team?” Insults thrown at her publically, group discussions and in internal meetings all became routine for her.

“I did not know how to handle the situation, because after all, she was my boss,” says Simone, unable to understand why she was singled out and bullied continuously. Being quiet and “weak” is what Simone believed was the cause of her being singled out.

Wanting a change, she tried to switch over to another department in the same company, but false accusations and rumours about her by the manager to other seniors in various departments made it impossible for her to seek a position elsewhere. “I thought I should leave the company but then I stayed back thinking this was my job, and I should stay strong and concentrate just on my work. So I tried to endure her negativity towards me. I didn’t want to be an escapist, so leaving was not an option for me. I really thought I could handle it.”

But she couldn’t. The endless mockery and belittling got the better of her. “I started to feel very low. I got paranoid easily.” Simone’s diet took a hit and she started getting weak, falling sick very often. “My father said so easy to just quit and move on. But it really wasn’t easy. I thought I could overcome but instead got trapped in more and more....”

The last straw that finally broke her was an internal meeting at her manager’s office where she was threatened by her manager, that if she didn’t improve in her work, she would be fired.

“I broke down....I just couldn’t go on anymore. I finally let it all out. My anger, my cries. I told her I’m going to quit,” says Simone.

“You made me feel low and incompetent as though I’m nobody. But this is it.”

Simone finally spoke up for herself in front of her manager. Two years of pent up anger and sadness finally gave way to tears and questions and more tears.

“You should lift me up as a manger. Instead, you made me feel like I’m worthless.” Why? Why me? Why did you make me feel so insignificant? I tried my very best. Then why?”

“But my manager just laughed a casual laugh. While I cried,” says Simone, recounting her reaction to her outburst in her office. “I’ll give you a few minutes to clean up and leave,” was all her manager had to say to her.

“While I was driving back home, there were voices inside of me as I drove into the middle of a busy intersection. All I wanted at that very minute was to get hit by oncoming cars,” says Simone as she lay still in her car, stopped in the middle of a busy highway at peak hour, shaking, waiting to die.

“Open the door! You’re getting yourself killed!!” she heard voices from outside of her car as passers-by got off, banging on her window to try and get her out. “But I didn’t let them in. I just stayed still in my car,” says Simone, remembering the day she had a nervous break-down. “The ambulance was called, along with it the fire and police.”

Finally, after breaking into her car and getting her information, Simone’s mother was called by the police and after all medical and safety tests were done on her, she was released.

Then started Simone’s struggle with her family.

“You see, coming from a Jamaican background, my parents didn’t look at my problems as real problems at all," says Simone. "There is a stigma attached to people with mental illnesses. My dad was not happy with the condition I was in, not because of my own suffering but because he was ashamed of what people might say about me. He just wanted me to keep everything under the wraps."

But seeing her health deteriorate, her mother started to get worried for her. Visits to the doctors and psychologists finally made her recognize and accept her daughter’s condition.

Simone was termed ‘severely depressed’ and had to be kept under watch round the clock.

“It sunk in that I was ‘officially crazy’!” Simone laughs for the first time, quickly going back to the struggles that followed. “I couldn’t go back to work, as I was to stay home under suicidal watch.”

What followed next were harrowing rounds of seeking legal aid and benefits from her company for the time that she had to take off from work. "I realized then how difficult it is to prove one's condition and receive what is rightfully your own. The wait is long, and not many can keep up the fight." 

All of Simone’s coworkers spoke up and testified against their manager. There was a legal case against her.

Initially, her company did not pay her for her short term disability, fighting back saying nothing was wrong with Simone. But she continued to fight. And this time she was not alone. Her mother stood by her. Doctors reports finally got Simone’s benefits approved.

But her journey was not yet over. Simone needed to find her confidence back and stand on her feet all over again. She was enrolled in an adult day treatment program for mental illness where she had to go every day for 3 months. “The first day I felt I didn’t need to be around these people. There was a girl who was sitting there talking to herself. It felt so awkward since I was not like her. But then I stuck around, and was thankful for it. I understood everything about fighting depression, about getting back in the world and conquer the world! It got me laughing and exercising my mind. It truly was an amazing program for me...” Simone’s face lights up as she describes her road to recovery.

“Pick yourself out of bed...answer those calls....get ready....go out.....” The voices in Simone’s head started to change finally.

Her fight for justice, her road to recovery eventually saw her receiving a letter from her company stating that her manager was not working with them anymore and Simone should come back to work now.

What should have been a joyous win for Simone after all, she decided not to go back to that place and start afresh. “It took too long for them to respond. It can’t take this much for a company to decide.”

Her decision upset her family. “Why did we fight all this while? For what?”

But Simone had learned a lot in this journey of hers. It took her a year to get back basics. “I had gone through mental illnesses. I was not the same person that I used to be anymore. I saw people with illnesses. I learned that there is a fight for everything. To get even your basic rights in the work force.”

Wanting a change, Simone went back to school to get a degree, but got bullied even in school as the younger girls in her class eventually found about her struggle with depression. “They started to talk behind me, calling me a mental case, laughing at me. ‘Crazy lives here’ one of the girls stuck a poster behind Simone’s back as the same haunting memories came back to her again. “I keep becoming a victim of bullying. Why? Why? I ran away from school.”

But Simone stopped herself from going far. “This time I am not going to run away,” she told herself. Somehow she gathered all her courage and went on to complete her education. All that fight she did to get justice, all the mental abuse she faced and her eventual recovery was not going to go waste. “I will complete what I started,” was all Simone could think about. “And I graduated with honours! My parents cheered the loudest in the crowd!

Simone has since then, registered a non-profit organization called Essence Of Mind.

“I didn’t understand how to deal with things when I was going through my own depression. I didn’t know who to call, what to do. When you’re suffering, you don’t know what’s happening or who to go to help. It was a long and difficult journey for me. Therefore my goal now is to help those people struggling with mental illnesses.” With a promise to make sure no one stays alone, Simone’s company ‘Essence of MIND Outreach Program’ is a public non-profit organization that provides families and individuals with essential support to getting treatment regarding a mental illness.

Essence of Mind targets those people who have kids suffering mental illnesses in silence such as bullying and depression, and helps raise funds to give to people waiting for benefits. Apart from this, Simone has also launched a tee shirt campaign, connecting fashion to mental health. With positive logos such as ‘Life is for Living’, ‘Inhale change, Exhale failure’ Simone sells these shirts through her web site and promotes them during mental illness week. All proceeds are then sent to the Essence of Mind cause.

Simone now works to end the stigma of mental illness and return a sense of belonging, improve confidence, self-love, happiness, peace and normalcy to individuals suffering. She has developed wellness activities, seminars and events to raise funds to be donated to these families and support groups and provides the highest quality of treatment to financially disadvantaged individuals and organizations lacking funds. More on her Essence of Mind at http://www.myessenceofmind.org/about-essence-of-mind/

Simone is now all set share her story through the release of a book in poetic form and make people aware of the perils of silent sufferings. While she works hard to raise awareness and funds at the same time, Simone’s only mission in life is to provide the tools and resources to individuals and families suffering from mental illness. “It is time to end the stigma of mental illness in our communities and beyond. I push myself to be better every day. I tried to kill myself. I tried many attempts. But I was unsuccessful. I guess God had a plan for me all along. I learnt to put myself in a better place. I learnt that I’m here for a purpose.”

Another broken link, the relationship between her father and her has been strengthened more than ever before. "My father who never recognized depression as a real form of illness has today understood the dangers of it and we have come closer than ever before."

As they say, everything happens for a reason! Simone Walsh, your efforts in reaching out to those suffering in silence will make our community and our world that much stronger. Thank you!

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