My name is Marissa Squirrel Celeste. I'm writing today to share my story of discovery into recovery with mental illness.

I come from a very abusive background. The people I was supposed to trust were the people that did the most damage. I know now that to a greater extent, they too suffered from the same mental illness due to their abusive backgrounds.

As a child I was constantly told that I wasn't living up to my potential. I need to explain here that my time was not spent on studying school; it was spent trying to survive from one moment into the next. I never saw potential, what I saw was threat. No matter what was going on, I could not find safety, especially with anyone or anything outside of myself, and I was not even sure of that. I felt that I could never let my parents know what I liked, didn't like, or if I was angry, because they were not safe. I used to love to read. The words couldn't hurt me, so there was my escape from reality and lack of safety. I could take off on adventures with the characters in the books I read. For many years they were my friends. I also had imaginary friends only none of them were human. they were all animals. I never fit in anywhere. There was not one group I felt I belonged with. I began to wonder if I was from this planet.

Despite all that, my earliest recurring dream is one of a very young me holding a single candle, shielding it from the breeze threatening to blow it out, all the while saying to myself "it will not always be like this."

As a young woman, I still felt alienated, but could kind of accept being so different. In fact, I made myself be proud of being weird and that I am no longer a wallflower to be ignored at the time, most of my friends either called me a free spirit, or weird. They also said things to me like "you're too smart for your own good", or "you think too much". I don't know that I could ever figure out what they were really trying to say, but somehow, I don't think what they said was it. Still, I kept remembering the little me saying it won't always be like this.

So I enlisted in the U.S. Navy. As I was at boot camp, my training instructor noticed that I would cringe & cower at the first signs of yelling or conflict. She had to reassure me that she would lose all her pension if she hit me or abused me in any way. Suffice it to say that my career only lasted 180 days, one day short of full V.A. benefits.

There starts the long reign of unemployment time. I'd sink into such despair. I didn't like the way I felt, so I turned to street drugs. I kept trying to change my feelings. Then I realized that I nearly always felt this way. Yet, I couldn't tell you how I was feeling, so much happened to me before I knew the words. My feelings were mostly colors and vibration. Except for the obvious anger or sadness, I couldn't describe my feelings. I just knew they were there.

On June 02, 1994, my daughter was born. She was my miracle child. Ha! I told myself. Just goes to show you that sometimes the doctors don't really know what they are talking about, the doctor's said it would be highly improbable for me to conceive due to all the scar tissue. Oh she was such a beautiful little one. In all ways, and I'm not just saying that because I'm her mother. There were times when I realized that she was taking care of me. During this time, I knew exactly what my life was about.

One morning, I'd been working out in front of the house trimming the Oleander. The sliding patio door was open just enough for the dogs to go in & out as they wished. Little did I know that this would be the day my daughter found a way and successfully managed to get out of her room. She found a way to get over the fence that had kept her safe. I hadn't realized that she too, could fit through the opening in the patio door.

Then this real intense intuitive feeling permeated every fiber of my being, by insisting that I go look for my daughter. I panicked when she wasn't in her room. I frantically searched for her. then I saw the patio door, and really panicked. Then I saw my daughter in the pool. She had a doll, and a lingerie bag with her socks. She had her shoes on. My heart sank.

Next thing I know, I'm coming out of the pool with her yelling for our housemate, who happened to be an E.R. physician. She was so very cold to the touch. He started working on resuscitating her, and had me call 911. She was transported to a hospital less than a mile away. Her little body would fight to exist for about another 12 hours before she would succumb to the near drowning.

The attending physician wouldn't even let me have just one valium for that night. Said I was just going to have to learn to deal with it, the sooner the better. This was devastating enough, but I had also had one of her godmothers, and her father die six months prior to her. It struck me that I am the sole survivor of the family I had created. 1996 will always have been the most devastating year in my life.

The next two years I spent learning how to use computers, and the internet, but most importantly, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Then I finally realized that I needed professional help and started to seek treatment. I really did not know I had mental illness, even though I found it almost impossible to leave the house. I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia and Agoraphobia and was prescribed different medications on a trial and error basis. Then it was realized that I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and struggling with substance abuse.

My symptoms were severe but thanks to a day treatment program and the patience of the clinicians there I began to feel safe and trusted them. We discovered the right medicine and I learned to my surprise and relief the fact that my life wasn't working was not because of me. I found out all that I was going through was because I had mental illness but I could recover.

Later, I became a Peer Counselor and in six months was a "warm line supervisor." This is a phone line that helps others with mental illness who can call for help. Although, I was presenting well on the outside, I was still troubled with some symptoms. I took on too much and later left the position helping others with mental illness to pay attention to myself and resolve the remaining problems.

As a Peer Counselor I felt good about myself but the pressure proved to be overwhelming at times. I believe Peer Counselor's, although having recovered from mental illness, need a support system that can help them while they are helping others.

There is a wonderful array of possible ways to help people with mental illness. I was fortunate to be one of the lucky ones that found out I could get help and I am grateful to all who have supported my recovery.

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