Willow Tree

What is wrong with you? What goes through your mind? Why do you act out? What is it going to take for you to just be normal? These questions would ring through my ears all throughout my childhood, constantly being compared to my three Sisters. I would always wonder, Why is it that all of these people in my life who know what I have been through do nothing to help me?

My older brother was kidnapped and murdered, and I was tossed around like a hot potato for six months at three years old while they looked for my brother. When I got older, no one explained anything to me. I certainly never got any counseling, and my parents never talked about my brother much or how I was feeling. Did no one think my sister and I could benefit from some sort of help? What I do know is I went through life thinking I was not important enough to truly be loved after my brother was gone, and that made me think, Why am I not enough? Am I not worthy of love?

This was when the feelings of brokenness started creeping in, and what crept in with that, was self-esteem issues.

I also went through childhood sexual assault, severe abandonment issues, physical abuse at the hands of my mom’s boyfriend, and feelings of being not wanted. Once again, when I would act out, I would hear, That kid is not right - she is a little brat. So I sat outside my house staring inside at my family feeling so alone, so different, and so misunderstood. Once again, no help and no one to talk to.

Good little girls look and act real proper in public regardless of what they are going through. If you make daddy look bad, you can bet you will be punished when we get home. Seriously, I don't understand any of this shit, I don't understand life period, and you can bet your ass no one is going to explain shit to this weird, bad behaving, brat child.

At 13, my substance abuse disorder began, and I had all of those problems and now a serious drug problem using methamphetamines at this young age. My first suicide attempt came at 16. I got taken to the clinic, stitched up, and you guessed it, put on an antidepressant that actually made me feel more sad. There was no counseling and not much communication from my parents. Instead, I faced backlash, gossip, and stares that come from living in a tiny town, and my friends were no longer able to come over.

Well, none of that is helpful, and so I feel worse. I am now feeling more broken. You are a loser, Noblelee, and you need to start acting right, learn from your sisters.

I got sent to an in-patient treatment center for addiction when I was 16. What I heard there was you just need to stay clean and figure it out. Again, no counseling or anyone to talk to. Still no one is taking the time to help me.

At 34, I had another suicide attempt and was hospitalized for a few days and forced into outpatient mental health counseling, which just was not beneficial. I felt just pushed through, not really cared about, and worse when I left. And then there was the little barrier of only getting six sessions paid for through your state insurance. BROKEN. I have been judged for being Native American raised on a reservation, for being a severe drug addict/alcoholic, for being low income and on state insurance, and honestly for the trauma that I have endured.

And because of all that trauma, how am I honestly going to get any substantial and effective help in six sessions? Why can't I just be treated the same? Why can't we all be treated the same? We all bleed red blood. We are all people who need to be heard. We ALL need people to meet us where we are and genuinely try everything they can to help us?

Please tell how I can help change some of these mental health barriers, so the way it is now can be changed, and we can trail blaze a path to better care for the next generation of beautiful people coming up who are in need of excellent mental health care and not have to go through the struggles that a lot of us have? How can we get more mental health beds?

I made another suicide attempt at 40 when my only son died. No therapy. I actually died until Narcan was used on me several times.

Broken!

I endured many more years of addiction and homelessness, very few people to talk to about the real me and not the street facade, wanting to die more than anything in my life, and sheer despair and hopelessness.

BROKEN.

Something happened under that bridge and I mustered up the courage to get myself to a Native American Treatment Center and do intensive in-patient treatment. This is where the first phase of my healing began. I was getting therapy, and people were helping me. OMG is this real? It hurts, but it feels so good.

I then moved into a recovery home and started going to 12-step meetings.

This is helping me. I am starting to feel like a willow tree.

And then I got a sponsor and dug a little deeper. And then I found a power greater than myself that I call God to help restore me to sanity. Then I started being of service to others in my personal and professional life, making sure they feel heard and cared about. I spend endless hours exploring the best therapists in my area for my clients in need, and I have been running a recovery house for the last three years.

I want to make a difference in how the mental health systems and society work in general and how gays, black and brown people, transgender folks, and anyone really who has been labeled different or made feel like something is wrong with them be are treated, like everyone who is let’s say privileged and proper white folk.

I am a willow tree! I am bent, but I am no longer broken.