Healed People Heal People: My journey to becoming a CPRS

by Cali George, firsthand Guide (peer) at firsthand

       I find myself today- much different from the past, but not completely separate. I feel an overwhelming abundance of gratitude and peace. I am overflowing with warmth and serenity. I am strong and courageous. I am Cali. I am a success. 

       Who would’ve thought that about an old junkie, an ex-con destined to re-institutionalization? An addict, mentally ill, with a death sentence looming overhead? Who would've thought that about someone like me? 

       For many years, I carried my cross, heavy-laden, pressing down on my very existence with the weight of two worlds. Pinned to that cross, that which made it so heavy, was trauma, abuse, shame, guilt, and feelings of worthlessness. I also suffer from a debilitating mental illness, which was only exacerbated by my heavy drug use.  At a very young age, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was prone to agitation, angry outbursts, and suicidal ideations. I was hospitalized multiple times for both substance use and mental health. I was miserable. Had you asked me then, I would have told you that's who I was. Tough and calloused, I was aged beyond my years from secrets and resentments. Had you asked me then, I would have told you I was nobody.   

         I lived this way for many years, from the age of 11 until I was 36. I left home when I was 14. I was involved in a few abusive relationships. I lived on the streets the rest of that time, “couch surfing,” as I called it. I slept where I was allowed and ate whatever I could scrounge. I lived out of a backpack, which mostly contained the paraphernalia used to maintain my hefty addiction, a toothbrush, and an ID so I could buy beer. I ran so hard from the people who hurt me. I ran straight into the arms of what would have eventually been my demise. I had children and relationships. I lost them. This only fueled the rage and the hunger of the demon living inside me. Pretty soon, I'd lost everything, everything but my life. 

          Addiction.  It’s just one word, but it encompassed my entire being. It swallowed me whole. It consumed me to the point of nothingness. Everything that I ever loved, everything that I ever was, and everything that I'd ever had was lost due to that one word. 

         I remember when I finally woke up from the fog and haze. It was freezing cold, and an itchy wool blanket covered me. But most of all, I remember the sound. It was so loud. There were so many voices. Until I peered from beneath the blanket, I'd assumed I'd finally lost it. I feared that any semblance of sanity remaining inside of me had come to an end. Instead, I saw a sea of orange jumpsuits, metal bunk beds, and concrete. The entire place was made of concrete and smelled of sweat and mold. I was in jail. As I walked to the sink in my new plastic shoes, all eyes were on me. I washed my face and attempted to see my reflection in the warped piece of metal we called a mirror above the sink. But I could no longer see me. Who I had been was long gone, and in that reflection, I saw the monster I'd been running from all those years. I saw a washed-up drug addict. I saw a deadbeat mom. I saw a user and an abuser. I saw a feral animal practically foaming at the mouth for anything that would feed my addiction, but I did not see me. I thought to myself, this must be the end.

         A few days and nights passed. I was sentenced to 8 years and shipped off to prison, chained to six other women who looked just like me. It was there, in prison, that I found that I had a promised bed and 3 meals a day. I read a pamphlet that said I could take classes. I eventually signed up for the BEST program at the Debora Johnson Rehabilitation Center in Nashville (or Tennessee State Prison for Women as it was called then) That program and its instructors changed my life, but most of all, that is where I met the Certified Peer Recovery Supporter (CPRS) who loved me when I was unlovable and helped me to change my life. 

        I learned to live and love myself in the most dire of circumstances. She helped me get closer to my higher power and learn to trust him, myself, and others. She guided me through my recovery and showed me a new way to live. She never judged me. She walked beside me, not in front of me. She helped me get into counseling and navigate the new and terrifying world around me. This woman led by example, and because of her I am still alive today to tell this story. I began to feel better both inside and out. I found happiness in the most monotonous things. I found gratitude for what had been given to me and for what had been taken away. I began to see a therapist and learned to process traumatic events from my past. I was prescribed medication for my mental health, and my head became clear, and my heart was full of hope.  

      When I finally started to look in the mirror again, little by little, I began to see myself. Because of my Higher Power and this woman, this CPRS, I had more freedom from behind cinder block walls and razor wire fences than I'd ever had on the outside of them. The chains had been broken, and I had been set free with a new outlook and a new hope for a better life. With every little success came more confidence and determination. I was inspired, and I decided to start right there, where I was, to help others and show loving kindness wherever I could. There was CPRS training offered behind prison walls, and I wanted more than anything to get into it, but I had to have two years clean, and I was still working on that. I excelled in the other courses I was taking, and for once, there was something to look forward to every day. This certainly was NOT the end. It was only the beginning. 

      I never lost my inspiration. Within 6 months of being released from prison, I earned my CPRS certification. I have worked in the field of mental and behavioral health ever since. Today, I get to share my experience, strength, and hope with others so that they may recover, too. My children are in my life, relationships have been mended, debts have been paid, and amends have been made. Today, I can say that I AM somebody. I AM worthy. I AM lovable. I AM able to reach my goals.  I aspire to be better every day. The most beautiful part of this story is that being a CPRS and working in a servant leadership role, I get to help others say the same thing. I am a firm believer in the fact that helping people helps people, and healing people heals people. We can only keep what we have by giving it away. That statement rings so true for me.  I hope my success, recovery, and help will inspire others to do the same.

Disclaimer

The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the authors. They do not reflect the opinions or views of PSCFL or its members.