My Slow Decline Into Misery, And How I Got Out

As part of my role as mentor/trainer/boss/counsellor in a harm reduction program, I used to coach young people to do speeches. They were invited to speak at trainings, city meetings, or conferences about their lived experience related to homelessness, harm reduction, sexual health, and mental health. They were still homeless and struggling, so I would help them — as much as they’d let me — to write and deliver speeches from a place of power. I taught them to focus on change, and not worry about where they are now. I admitted that some audience members will want a cute little story where the beginning is bad, the middle is hard work and good support, and the end is a triumph. Some want you sober, housed, in school, and working at the end of the story. But the youths’ accomplishments were more like, “helped a friend,” “started attending a support group,” “entered a peer training program,” “cut back my drug use,” “recorded a dope beat,” or “finished a beautiful painting.” I was really proud of their accomplishments, and it wasn’t hard for me to coach them into defying narrow definitions of success and to celebrate their ongoing resilience in the face of adversity.

It has always been harder to do that for myself, as I’ve grieved the gap between where I am in my life and where I think I “should” be. However, where I am now is so much better than where I was a year ago, and I have to give myself credit for the work I’ve done to get unstuck.