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14 | drinkanddrugsnews | February 2013
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learning bug. I was doing counselling, mentoring, developing as a community
learning champion, NVQs, coaching, voluntary work… and I also had a busy
family life. My recovery seemed to be last on the list, as in my eyes I was OK.
At this point, something clicked inside my head. I had had no intention of
coming off methadone and didn’t see it as a problem, but I started noticing
people in recovery. A lot of people I started out with all those years ago had sadly
passed away, but the few who were left were making really positive changes in
their lives and were productive, happy members of our community. While working
as an employability coach I felt a bit of hypocrite – although I did my job extremely
well, as was shown by my being nominated for a volunteer of the year award.
I decided to finally let go. Yes I was terrified – methadone had been my best
friend and worst enemy, all in one. I would not recommend this to anybody, but I
wanted to do it on my terms. I got from 100mls down to 50 – and returned more
than 6000mls back to the chemist – then from 50 to 7.5 by Christmas 2010.
The last two years have been a rollercoaster. I graduated in advice and
guidance and saw the proud faces of my mum, sister and husband. Just before
we were due to hand in our portfolios, my tutor arranged for me to have an
educational psychology report, which found I was dyslexic – my counselling tutor
had always said my verbal understanding was exceptional but my written work
was like a bull in china shop!
I was unaware of the stress of these changes creeping up on me. My
recovery should have taken precedence over everything, including my studies
and voluntary work. I needed some time out, to heal, and discover who I was.
I started to go to SURF, a local service user group, and got the opportunity to
go to the DDN/Alliance national service user involvement conference. I heard
Annemarie Ward and Alistair Sinclair speak; they spoke from their hearts and
reflected the underlying current of change, which really awoke real passion in
me. The atmosphere was fantastic and I met some amazing people with similar
aspirations – we were just people. It’s this shared understanding that has been
instrumental in my recovery.
Next issue: In the final part of her story, Marie looks to the future
First person |
Marie’s story
‘At this point, something clicked inside my
head. I had had no intention of coming off
methadone and didn’t see it as a problem,
but I started noticing people in recovery.’
In the sixth part of her story, Marie picks herself
up from her lowest ebb and grabs hold of life
SO THERE I WAS
, emotionally unstable, vulnerable – and in custody. By
teatime I was in HMP Style. I phoned home and Joseph answered the phone:
‘Mum are you OK? Where are you? Shall dad come and pick you up?’
‘No son, I’m in jail.’ He was a 15-year-old boy, reassuring his mum. I spent
Christmas away from my children, as well as their birthdays. Self-harming was one
of my daily rituals to cope with the pain inside. But something kept me going – my
neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) books and coaching. When I came home the
family had a surprise party for me and I finally knew the true meaning of home.
It was 2009, and it had taken me 18 months to rebuild myself and finally get
the courage to go back to college. It was there that I witnessed how learning can
change people, increasing their self-esteem and connectivity. I realised I didn’t
want to be a corporate coach, but a life coach NLP practitioner in the health and
social care sector. I enrolled back on the course I had started two years ago, my
legs like jelly, not knowing if they knew that I had been to prison. But my legs
kept walking, as I knew I had to be there.
I was met by people who felt the same and that gave me comfort – I realised
that feeling alone and worried in certain situations was just a normal human
response, regardless of any issues with substance misuse or mental health.
I thrived at college, even though I struggled with some aspects. My
narcolepsy was really bad and it was diagnosed as sleep apnoea. It was so
severe that I would have to have naps in college – I would put chairs together or
get under the table and sleep. I also had carpal tunnel, but I was determined,
with an insatiable appetite for learning, so I was allowed to use a computer from
college that had voice-recognition software.
I started voluntary work, first as a learning guide, then a mentor, then
community learning champion. My life was growing at such a rate and internally
I was becoming whole again, becoming part of something – my community and
college had such positive effects on my wellbeing. My enthusiastic approach
really seemed to connect with people who had barriers to learning and I
embraced all my voluntary roles while preparing to do my coaching qualification.
I passed my course and soon registered on others – I certainly had the
My journey of self-discovery