Recovery International and a Method of Will Training

By Celinda Jungheim

The Journal of The California Alliance for the Mentally Ill

I cherish my mental health. I have it now because I worked hard to get it. Twenty-five years ago, when I didn't want to live, I couldn't imagine ever living with joy in my life. Today my life is full and meaningful. How did I get here from there?

As I look back on my life I know I first had depression as a child. There were those days when I just went into my room and sat brooding - thinking dark, black, hateful thoughts. I was angry at the world and hated myself. But nice people don't show that kind of anger so I never talked about it. I wouldn't have known what to say.

During my college days as a costume designer (and seamstress) in the Theater Department I had "highs" that kept me working 20 hours a day, 6 weeks at a time and then, when the show was over, crashing and staying in bed, hating myself. Whenever anyone said I did good work or gave me any encouragement my thoughts were "...you don't know what an awful person I am."

After college, an unsuccessful marriage and a young son, whom I was totally unprepared to parent, I ran off, leaving my son with his father. A new relationship only brought more depression and I began to obsess about suicide. Several times I took overdoses, was taken to the hospital, but always released within a few days or weeks. I became unable to hold a job, take care of my family or have any kind of social life.

After a couple of years of this, several hospitalizations, up to five visits weekly with a psychiatrist, many shock treatments, and numerous medications, my "relationship" gave up and my parents took me to their home in Southern California. After a few weeks I made my final suicide attempt - this time almost successful. I guess this was bottom.

From the local hospital I was sent to Camarillo State Hospital. I had always pulled myself together when times were tough (read - when someone locked me up), so once again I started trying to get out. Thank goodness in the late 60s parents could still commit their adult children. It's the best thing my parents could have done for me. Of course, I didn't think so then. I was committed on my 28th birthday with a diagnosis of schizophrenia. But something wonderful had already come into my life that would help me change entirely.

After a couple of weeks of wandering around the hospital-bright red (because they didn't tell me that my medication could cause bad sunburn), I saw a sign that said something about a "Recovery" meeting. I asked someone about it and they told me to talk to "John". John said he went to those meetings and invited me to come along. I don't recall much of my first meeting because I was overmedicated, but I knew this was what I needed.

This Recovery, Inc. self-help method gave me tools to use right when I was having the symptoms. I always had trouble talking to people about what was bothering me, and after it stopped bothering me I didn't see why I should bring it up. With this dilemma I had never been able to discuss my problems with professionals. But the Recovery group dealt with trivial things like being embarrassed about "saying the wrong thing" or because I burned something on the stove. And it gave me tools on how to deal with reality. Not theoretically, but Now!

I remember the very first time the Recovery Method worked for me. I had been attending the meetings for a few weeks. Several people from my unit were sitting around talking. Something came up and the psychiatric nurse said, "Schizophrenics almost never get well." My feelings plummeted. I went over and lay down on my bed and decided I might as well give up. After lying there for a while I began to think about what I was learning in Recovery. They had told me I could substitute secure thoughts for insecure thoughts. One secure thought that came to me was that she had said "almost" never get well. I began to think, "maybe I can be an exception." With that, the low feelings left, and I felt fine. I knew then that Recovery worked. Of course, that didn't make me well. When I left the hospital after 3-1/2 months I started a long painful climb with many setbacks. But soon my son was near me again, although he didn't come to live with me for another year or two.

At one point I stopped attending my Recovery meetings and I slipped back to lying on the bed, processing those dark, hateful thoughts, but this time I did something about it. I called the social worker, Don Lee, who had organized the Recovery meetings at the hospital. He had always encouraged me - and I trusted him. He asked me to come to visit-and then he put me to work as a volunteer to help keep me occupied. Although I had been working at several part-time jobs, in 1970 I got an office job with a mortgage-banking firm where I still work today.

And my son, by then six, came back to live with me. I was thrilled to have him with me. I was scared. It was all the trivial things that scared me-like putting up a lunch for him to take to schooluntil I realized I only had to do it one step at a time. That made it seem less overwhelming.

Over the years I grew, had setbacks, went through another marriage and divorce, but kept gaining in self-confidence and maturity. Then I began dating and, within a year, married Ralph, who was a fellow Recovery, Inc. member. I first met him when he came to Camarillo to present a demonstration of Recovery, Inc. After I left the hospital I often attended the group Ralph led, but it wasn't until nine years later, after we both divorced, that a mutual friend encouraged us to get better acquainted. Ralph still tells people that he "discovered his wife at Camarillo State Hospital." People usually look stunned until I confirm it. We do work at keeping our sense of humor.

I have also learned to get help from professionals. As I became aware that my marriage (before Ralph) was not going well, I began to see a counselor. She was a great help. Now I realized, that she could give me guidance but she wasn't going to do it for me. Since that time I have utilized professionals on several occasions, when I needed to work through a situation, or when I was in a setback and needed some medication.

Life isn't always easy now, but it is certainly worth living. I keep attending Recovery, Inc. because I think it is cheap insurance. I live in a nurturing environment-at home, at work, and with my family. Nevertheless, I see the possibility of a return to my earlier symptoms if I have serious problems in any of these areas. But now I have Recovery's "tools" to help me deal with them and I know I will get through. It has been worth the trip-and it has taught me to cherish my mental health.

Celinda Jungheim is a past President of Recovery, Inc., an International self-help group for nervous and former mental patients. She lives with her husband, Ralph and cats, Buster Ann and Berkeley, in Marina del Rey, CA.

Posted with permission from The Journal of The California Alliance for the Mentally Ill.

•