The Fight of a Lifetime

by Eldon Pollard

(Reprinted from NAMI Voice, Issue No. 14, June 2008)

Mental Info In my childhood I remember things being pretty "normal." But as I moved into my early teenage years, I started to notice something wasn't right. I got to the point that I couldn't control my thoughts or my actions.

It got so bad that in about 1970 my parents took me to a psychiatrist. After spending some time with him, he told my parents that I was anti-social. As I have researched and talked to other doctors I have found that you can't correctly diagnose a child that young (I was twelve or thirteen) as anti-social.

At around this time I also got involved with drugs and alcohol. I even made sure that I associated myself with others who either used or sold drugs. At one point I even sold marijuana and speed out of my parents' home without them knowing.

Even my schooling suffered. All through grade school it was like I was bored. I wouldn't do my work and I would find other was to occupy my time. In my freshman year of high school I ditched for fifty-six days, and was still able to pass. My poor parents, they didn't know what was going on; they just knew they couldn't control me.

It was at this point that they decided enough was enough. I was sent to Del Mar, California to attend San Diego Military Academy. It was also where I found out that I was a pretty smart cookie after scoring 148 on an entrance IQ exam. Even though the depression, anxiety, and racing thoughts that came with this illness were still around, I did really well.

I did well in school, played football, wrestled and was even on the drill team. For two years I did so well that my parents let me come home and go to my regular high school for my senior year. Boy, was that a big mistake. I don't know if I got worse or it was the loss of the structure, but my symptoms were stronger, and I started using drugs more.

I then dropped out of high school with only one semester left and joined the Army. I went through basic training without any problems but when I got to combat engineer school, I took a weekend pass and stayed gone for three months. Needless to say Uncle Sam didn't like that, so I ended up with a "General under other than Honorable" discharge. That's one step up from "Dishonorable."

As I came back to Arizona I tried to figure out what happened and what I was going to do. Everything was alright for a while. As I got older my mental illness and my addiction got worse and worse.

From this time until the 1990's I attempted suicide several times. They would hospitalize me for a short while then they would release me. No meds and no follow ups.

I had several marriages, but they were marriages of convenience, not love. Also during this time I had several run-ins with the law for anything from failure to appear, to theft, to drug possession and use. And quite often during this time, I was also homeless. To be honest with you there is time where I really don't remember what happened.

In 1993 I married my current wife. During this time I also joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This was going to be it. I had a great wife and a wonderful church. In fact, except for a few relapses, I was doing well. My wife and I had a daughter, which brought the number of kids up to five.

I worked hard within the church and received the priesthood. I blessed my daughter and was even able to take my wife to the temple in Mesa, Arizona where we were sealed together for all time and eternity. With the help of my wife and the strength of my spirituality, I was able to stay clean and sober for several years. I even kept my mental illness at bay.

But then something happened. My symptoms came back worse than ever. I was either very manic, very depressed or both. And yes, you can be both. I started using Crystal Meth very heavily. I even started selling all of my family's stuff to pay for it.

My wife kicked me out and then got an order of protection against me. I was jailed for trying to go to see my kids and I got arrested for possession. I was very lucky and I got probation for that one. After I got off of probation I self-medicated with crack cocaine. I just couldn't stand this hell anymore.

This time I attempted suicide by taking a whole bottle of Methadone. But death wasn't to be. I woke up in the back of an ambulance with a paramedic pushing Narcan into my IV. After spending twenty-eight days in a psych hospital in Phoenix, I was finally diagnosed as Bipolar and found that my diagnosis qualified me for treatment through the Regional Behavioral Health Authority in Mesa, Arizona, where I live.

Finally, I got meds, counseling, doctor visits and case management. I've had a couple of case managers who were great. They helped me to find what I needed to do to find the path of recovery. They held the hope when I couldn't. At one point I was on nine different meds. I'm down to two.

With the help of my spirituality, my loving wife and my clinical team I got to work. And after I got to where I believed in myself, I took off. I went through the WRAP program and then went through Peer Support training. One month after I graduated I went to work for a non-profit organization and worked there for about a year and a half. I then went to work for the RBHA as a Peer Mentor, and I am still there.

I was also introduced to NAMI, where I not only joined but I serve on the board of my local affiliate. I also serve on NAMI-AZ Consumer Council. I am also trained in In Our Own Voice and Peer to Peer. I have also been through an Advocacy Institute and I work as an advocate and I have been through the Leadership Academy.

I guess as you can tell, I have found my passion. And to top it off, I have three years of being clean and sober, and my family and I have a wonderful life together. So to wrap this up I guess I would say that it may be a lot of work, but recovery is very possible and worth every ounce of work you put into it.

DON'T GIVE UP!