By: Mike Murphy, Manager of Alumni Services
May is Mental Health Awareness Month and June is Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month. And what could be more suiting than a blog about just that? Sure, we have all read my ramblings on my recovery from drinking, but what about the other part of the equation? After all, the drinking was merely the symptom of a much larger problem. That much larger problem just so happened to be my mental health. Or my lack thereof of any type of health.
Growing up in the 1980’s (yes, you read that right), it was still common to enforce and encourage the “boys don’t cry” and “be a man” mantras. And for the most part, we followed suit. I know I tried to hold in my emotions the best I could. Even as a child, I didn’t want people to see me vulnerable. If you had to cry or be upset, you did that in private. This would be the story of my childhood and into my teens. With teen angst entering the chat, so did some unexpected emotions. I found myself letting them slip on occasion, but also trying harder than I ever had to make sure they didn’t. Not exactly what you’d call “balance”.
This path would certainly continue well past my childhood and teenage years. As most of you know, shortly after I graduated High School, I went into the United States Marine Corps. And if you want to talk about a place where emotions are not allowed, let alone frowned upon? It’s Parris Island, S.C. in Marine Corps Boot Camp. Now don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was getting myself into. But when you finally come face to face with the steely eyed look of those tough as nails, emotionless Drill Instructors…..Shit gets real. And it would keep getting real. The Marine Corps is not a place for the weak. It’s also not a place for individuals. If you try separating yourself from everyone, you’re going to be miserable. Me? I did what I had learned to do. I drank to fit in. And there were some good times. But then there was plenty where you were locked in and completely understood the reality of your job. And that was no laughing matter. It was no matter for anything other than grim seriousness.
In 2003 shit got about as real as it could get. We were deployed to Iraq for the initial breach into the Country. There’s no need to go into detail with how the next few months went. But obviously, feelings were not a priority. And any bad feeling you might have had? You’d better push those into the back of your skull and keep them there, because this sure as hell isn’t the time or the place. And for most of us, that’s just what we did. Unfortunately, there are a lot of us that don’t stop with that frame of thought. We continue with it well after being home from wherever your deployment was. Keep those feelings buried in the back of your mind and they will magically go away, right? Nobody wants to hear your whining or complaining. “Suck it up” is probably the most popular one. And that’s what we would do. Suck it up.
For me, it wasn’t so much as sucking it up as it was separation. When I got out of The Corps, I decided the best thing I could do was to suppress everything and also distance myself from anything and everything Marine Corps. Which is almost unheard of. For those of you that know a Marine, we are fiercely proud of that title and will put it on anything. But for me, the less I had to talk about it, the better. And I would like to think that for the most part, I did a pretty good job at this. Except when I would get really drunk. Then I would talk to anyone with an ear and a pulse about how great The Marines were. But sober? Nothing. I would even tell co-workers that found out I was a Marine to not say anything around customers or anyone else because I didn’t want to talk about it. Again, if you don’t talk about it, it goes away.
Fast forward to 2019 and my life is in shambles. My drinking is out of control and my mental health is deteriorating at a rapid rate. At this point, I am almost 15 years removed from The Marine Corps. But, for whatever reason, all those things that I had kept built up in the back of my mind were coming forward. Along with a bunch of other things. Everything I had bottled up over the years, Marines and regular, were at a head and ready to burst. And my drinking was absolutely out of control. The depression I was in was one of those that gets you locked and some people don’t make it out of. Even normal things like showering and taking care of myself went out the window. I didn’t have a care or a thought for my future. Life was looking bleak.
For the first time, my family was able to see just how bad I had gotten. And after a while, my Mother and Sister finally came to me and urged me to go to The V.A. My Mom had a friend with some connections there, and if I went then and there, someone would be waiting for me. I am a lot of things. And a Mama’s Boy is definitely one of ‘em. I couldn’t say no. So, half reluctantly, I went and checked myself in and within a few minutes of meeting with these people who were waiting for me, I was labeled as a “crisis case”. That’s not good, if you were wondering. BUT, it’ll get you fast tracked to therapy real quick! And that’s just what I did. I began 1 on 1 therapy sessions and EMDR treatment. And while I thought I was making some improvements; I was still drinking before/after every appointment. So, I can’t say for certain how much it actually did. And then COVID-19 happened. And The V.A. was shut down. Which meant my therapy was shut down. And backwards I went. Quick.
Fortunately, something clicked in my mind, and I decided I needed more help than just one on one therapy. And that is how I landed at Transformations. This would also be the first time I would take a serious approach to my mental health. Not only was I sober, but I was set on trying to figure out what made me act and react to things the way I did. I was active in my groups and continued with EMDR therapy (something I had started while going to the VA). But the most important part of treatment was that I allowed myself to become honest and vulnerable in my one on one sessions with my therapist, Caron. Boy was she just what I needed. While tiny, she was one tough cookie. She was quick to help me realize all these things in my life I had internalized and just thought were normal, had come to play a role in different areas of my adult life. She also made me realize maybe I didn’t know everything about myself that I thought I did. And talk about a humbling experience. When someone else teaches you something about yourself. How is it someone else can know more about me than ME?! But sure enough, after every session with Caron, I felt almost relieved. And like I had learned something. It was almost refreshing. And I wanted to continue that. Obviously it was also suggested (strongly) that I continue with therapy.
Taking suggestions is arguably the most important part of a person’s recovery. And if I was set on one thing, it was to take suggestions from others. Because Lord knows, I had no idea what I was doing. Hell, to this day I am taking suggestions. I’m not a pro at anything in this game of life. So with that being said, I still to this day continue with therapy and med management. Twice a month to be exact. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Especially my psychiatrist. He is not afraid to tell me what I might not want to hear and refuses to sugar coat anything for me. Sometimes I feel like I am talking to my sponsor. But I understand the importance of this. Without my mental health, my sobriety is in jeopardy. And without my sobriety my mental health is certainly in jeopardy. The two go hand in hand. This is why it is so important to continue with the two well into your recovery.
Now go make those appointments, kids. May might have been mental health awareness month, but it’s a year round upkeep. Catch you next month.
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