Consumer Stories: Rosita Martinez
My name is Rosita Martinez and I am a fifty two year old Apache woman who has occupied many stations in life. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share with you the overview of my life’s experiences. This is what I call the sharing of hope.
I dropped out of middle school at the age of fourteen to marry and start a family. After four and a half years of abuse, I was divorced at the age of eighteen and remained a single parent, mother of two, and now a grandmother of four. I have worked a variety of jobs and put my hand to many careers. I have worked along side of many people of different races, different cultures, different socioeconomic stations, and in different states of this great nation. My employers in Florida told me I was the first woman in the state of Florida to be classified as a First Class Industrial Mechanic. In my travels the needs of those around me were always prevalent.
At 32 two I realized I would need to have an education to continue raising my family. How could I encourage my children to learn and succeed in life when I never even learned how to read? So I decided to look for help with DVR the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation. After they quizzed me, gave me a variety of tests, asked me a barrage of questions, such as the names of presidents (which was of no importance to me), I began to have my doubts. I was honest in my answers. I saw their psychiatrist and their response to me was to say they could not help me. When I asked why, they told me the worst thing I could do was to try and go to college. Again I asked why, and they said that if I were to try, I would surely fail and that would be too devastating. I knew I was capable of learning. I was merely uneducated. I could not understand why they would not want me to have an education and learn as much as possible. I could not let this stop me.
Standing outside the building in the distance I noticed a church steeple, so I drove there to sit a spell, gather my thoughts, and pray for guidance. I was surprised to see that I was standing on campus grounds. As I explored, I ask a student what was the name of this college. They said the magic words "Gonzaga University". I wanted to see more. As I roamed the halls, I saw the walls lined with historic pictures of students since the school opened. I had to ask someone what I would need to do to study there. So I found the Administrative Office and waited. One and a half hours later a lady approached me and asked if she could help me. I told her I was interested in studying there. She smiled and walked me to her office. She began asking me questions for the admittance application. When she asked about how much education I had, I told her my story. She paused a moment then placed a call to a counselor at Spokane Community College (SCC). Finally, I thought someone was taking me serious. She made a list and told me what steps I needed to accomplish for my transfer to Gonzaga. That woman changed my life in many ways. Since our encounter was so brief, I could not remember her name and our paths never crossed again. Thank you dear lady.
I followed her list to the letter, and I enrolled at SCC. I was charged and ready to start. As I walked around campus, I noticed so many people looking very sad. This concerned me, so in conversation, I asked one of my peers if she would feel comfortable talking to staff, if she were having personal problems. She quickly responded by saying "no". I was very surprised and asked why, and she said she would not want anyone at SCC to know she was having problems. My concern turned into fear. Why would anyone be afraid of the college? I needed to know if I should be afraid of the staff, so I began a survey by asking students everywhere I went (before classes, after classes, outside, inside, waiting in line at offices, at the restaurant, etc.). I casually asked, if they were having problems such as domestic violence, drug abuse, alcoholism, or any other types of personal issues, could they feel comfortable talking to the staff? I found out why they would steer clear of staff. They would not want the staff to know anything negative. The stigma could jeopardize their college career. Also the fear of interference with the police or having to explain seemed unbearable. So my last question was if they had a safe place to get information on campus but not connected with the campus staff would they feel safer?
I was compelled to write out my findings to my counselor, who passed it on to other staff, and asked to see me. When I spoke with them, I offered my services in any way to assist in developing such a place on campus. They told me good, and they said I would be given a place to start a center. A New Beginning Information Center was started, and I was named Program Director. I gathered information about the services offered throughout Spokane as well as fact sheets and brochures on specific problems people may have. I called upon the support of speakers from treatment programs, and asked for the support of personnel and students on campus. Soon all the pieces came together. We employed another work study student to help and retained funding for my three years at SCC and enough to hire a masters graduate from Gonzaga to take over my position after graduation. I do not take credit for all that was produced from this idea. It was a collaborative effort of the agencies in town who were so willing to help, and campus personnel who were so open and willing to embrace that opportunity which really made the center work.
Personally my experiences in those three years was my reward. It helped me gather tools for myself and helped others at the same time. You see I had never revealed I could not read. I could think, I could learn, I could talk, but I could not read. All went well for one and a half years, but it meant having my children, my friends, my neighbors, anyone who would read my texts into a microphone for me to continue. I would play the tapes, follow the text, and pull words together for tests. Then I had to take a history class which was mandatory. The words were huge and too hard to remember. I was failing. I thought for sure this would be the end, then one day my daughter came home very excited calling me to say that her English teacher would be happy to teach me how to read, if I would talk Spanish with her. My daughter had her number and she and I sat outside on the SCC lawn as we learned from each other. She was truly another blessing in my life. Thank you my reading teacher. I felt liberated. Now if I wanted to know something, I could read about it.
Seven years later I graduated from Gonzaga. It took me seven years to achieve a four year degree overcoming many obstacles. Many thanks to all my professors.
Before leaving Gonzaga, I started working for Lutheran Social Services at the Family Support Center working directly with the parents and children. I worked in the office, taught Positive Anger Management classes, and helped in teaching positive parenting methods. Approximately one year later, shortly after graduation from Gonzaga, funding for the Family Support Center was cut. I strongly believed in the work we were doing at the Family Support Center, so I tried to continue on my own. Thus I started 21st Century America a family support center. I had support in this business venture, but my family and home was suffering, so I had to stop.
Needing work I sought employment with the Department Of Corrections (DOC) as a Corrections Counselor. I worked for Cornelius House and Eleanore Chase House helping prisoners make the transition back into society after prison life.
I have been homeless, with my children, living out of my car at different times of my life. I was introduced to substance abuse during my marriage. I became alcoholic and was treated in Bellingham in 1985 and again at the end of my employment with the DOC. My life created havoc with my family as well as my own mind and heart. My family knew something was wrong with me, but all their efforts to find help were futile. The police and Community Mental Health both said there was nothing they could do, unless I wanted their help. People on the crisis line also said the same thing. I was soon to learn what was wrong.
I was Bipolar or Manic Depressive. Later in recovery, I realized I probably have always lived with Bipolar symptoms. Rapid cycling manifested and my swings of Mania and Depression consumed my life. I landed in Seattle at Harborview after trying to take my life. Later I was informed that I had been brought to Harborview in handcuffs about three times trying to take my life. Discovering my situation was, as if I had awakened from a deep sleep and living a nightmare. I did not know where my family was, nor what had happened to me.
I remained at the hospital as they worked with me to find the right medications for my treatment, to stabilize me, and help me find housing. I was afraid, ashamed, and uncertain about what to do next. Even though my children were young adults, I still needed my family, so I finally called home. I am still uncertain about how much time had lapsed, since I left Spokane. Soon after, I came home and sought help. This was not an easy process. First I needed to overcome the terror of all my surroundings and everyone in them. I needed to trust and I had no idea how I could ever do that. I believed and trusted two things my love for my family and our "Great Creator". I found help at Community Mental Health. For some reason I changed psychiatrists three times, had complications with med changes (reactions and side affects). I had begged for counseling, but I was told I had to attend classes. I could not understand how classes were going to help me. Finally, I was placed in the care of Dr. Rodgers there at Community Mental Health.
Dr. Rodgers continued monitoring my medications as we struggled on keeping a balance between my medical and mental health. I continued to have some episodes of hospitalizations. Then one day with all respect and encouragement Dr. Rodgers told me, I needed to find a counselor or therapist to help me work on my past and present issues. I explained to him I had been trying to do that. Once again I needed to trust. For a moment, I was more afraid of my future being a repeat of the up and down roller coaster rides I’d been on, so I sought help elsewhere for counseling. Thank you Dr. Rodgers for your encouragement and Community Mental Health for continuing to care for me.
After finding a therapist, Ted Baker with Catholic Family Charities, his work was cut out for him. My past memories, images, and feelings consumed me. My fears became terrors as I came to grips with another part of my life. My future looked grim. I had suppressed, with all my might, the fact that as far as my memories could take me, I remember being sexually abused by every male family member (except my brother). I have memories of being very little desperately gasping for air as my grandfather pressed his weight on me. As I entered school age, I was forced to attend, and the real nightmares began. The gang rapes began on my walks to and from school no matter which direction I walked. Sometimes only one kid would attack me, but usually more than one. Always the threats were that they would kill my grandmother first and my great grandmother as well. I had every reason to believe them, so I did not resist. I remember so much pain. The only escape I had was in leaving my body, lifting my soul, and going some where else in my mind. No one had ever taught me how to do this, but I often left my body, when I would sit alone by the water of my back yard canal. During this early childhood, I lived in Coolidge, Arizona. Coolidge was a very small town and my options for paths to walk to school were limited. There were no hiding places for me. It seemed that no matter which way I went I was sure to be caught. Hiding the pain and the blood became second nature to me. I would have to estimate the rapes well into the hundreds by the time we finally left Coolidge at the age of twelve.
However, for me the reason for leaving was more maddening than anything I had ever suffered. One day as I arrived from school calling out to my grandmother a man ran from the bedroom pulling on his clothes and ran out the door. I rushed to the bedroom and found my grandmother laying on the bed with her clothes thrown about and sobbing. She did not have to tell me what had happened. I knew what happened. He had raped my grandmother. Many emotions rushed my body. I wanted to run after the man, but I was afraid to leave my grandmother. I asked her if I should call the police, and she said no. I went to her bedside and held her. This was all I could do. A few days later after school she had the car packed and said we were leaving Coolidge. I asked where we were going. She said California. I asked how we would get there. She said that I was to tell her where to go and she would drive us there. She handed me a map and told me the service station man would show me how to read it. I was so happy. I smiled and embraced the opportunity.
Ted Baker gave me respect, sincere care, and encouragement. I felt hope. Ted helped me walk through those memories and continues to help me with present issues. Thank you Ted Baker and Catholic Family Charities. It is important to say that I've seen many a travesty with so much mental illness and all its complexities. I watch as my own siblings and extended family suffer and can't find help. Now in order to fully answer this question I must tell you one more little story.
The idea for my first business started from my observations peering through the bushes of a cotton field at the approximate age of five. I had just jumped onto the long cotton bag my grandmother was filling (thinking it was fun), when I saw a woman nursing her child under a Palo Verde tree (which has no shade). She appeared so very tired, hot and thirsty. As I looked at my grandmother to tell her of the women I'd seen, she also looked completely spent. First, I felt shame that I had jumped onto my grandmother's bag giving her more to carry, then I was saddened for the woman. I jumped off the bag, stopped my grandmother, and told her that we needed to help everyone. I listed off to her that we needed to buy pop, make different types of burritos, some for breakfast and some for lunch. I told her the pop had to be cold, so we needed ice. I told her we needed to buy one pop, then, when we sold it we needed to buy two more, so we could have pop for everyone just like the stores. We left the field only to return with sustenance. This idea took my grandmother out of the fields, and helped people feel better. I am grateful for those childhood lessons, because they empowered me and set the pace for my walk in life.
The importance of that little story is that at a very young age I learned to find the answers by looking at present day's problems. Our past is as real as our present, and the courage to walk through the muck allows us to live with our mental illness. I see that fears, or rather, the terrors hold us back. I do not profess to know the answers, however I believe by caring enough to see the pain no matter how hard it is, and being willing to listen to the cries for help without shrugging away, and not being judgmental of the appearance of a person, we could find answers one step at a time. I would feel privileged to be a part of the giving of hope. I truly believe I am blessed by having the love and empowerment my grandmother showed me. So very many souls have no support, remain in isolation and feel trapped. We must break down the barriers that stop or hinder a person's success in living with mental illness, including our own terrors and shame. The stigma attached to mental illness is so incredibly difficult to walk through, thus I see that education is crucial for professionals, society, and our fellow peers. We are faced with multiple forms of discrimination such as mental illness, handicaps, gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, homelessness, and socioeconomic status to mention a few. Treatment must be more available before suicide seems to be the only way out. Mental health care providers also need help with their struggle to help the increasing flow of souls looking for help. I am no longer afraid, no longer ashamed, and no longer uncertain. I am certain I want to be a voice of hope and combat the feelings we have of being in a room full of people, screaming loudly, and no one hears.
I have always been a sensitive person. My grandmother never had to raise her voice to me. I was always willing to do what needed to be done. I believe a big reason for this stems from my being my own hardest critic. I would not stop with one critique. I also believe this is one reason why I have been so compelled to seek for answers with a passion. Everywhere I have walked in recovery, I have embraced those around me to walk with me. I have tried to be an example for all of my family and friends. It is one thing to tell someone what to do and another to show them. I've been told that for every person you touch ten more will be affected. I believe this is possible.
Approximately two years ago my therapist Ted Baker recommended I join a support group for women with mental illness. He explained that it was a small group, but I would probably enjoy it. I agreed and started. I was surprised to learn that the group was not only a support group, but more over, we were to learn a way of life based on a very famous poem. The poem's name was "Desiderata". When it was written is uncertain. Some believe it possibly stems from the 17th century, and was copyrighted in the 20th century. However, I was certain this poem was applicable as a guideline to promote mental health. Thank you Ted. To give you a better understanding, the poem reads as follows:
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.Be careful. Strive to be happy.
(Max Ehrmann)
It would seem that our efforts to establish this group would be to no avail. The lack of funding cut this program also. We were now afraid of losing all we had worked for in establishing the camaraderie we were all lacking. We knew that together we could hold our heads up and keep walking. We did not have to be alone. This news was as if our lifeline had been severed. We could not let this go. The group members decided to take action and legitimize our group as a non-profit organization to continue the women's support group, in Spokane Valley, hoping we could pass on what we had found. We are in the beginning phases of this process, but we are willing to involve women and men in more areas. As Desiderata says, "And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should." Isolation seems unbearable, so for us, we must keep moving forward. We empower each other to be all we want to be, to be creative with arts and crafts, to have ideas, to go on outings together and have fun setting aside our fears, and much more. We have a safe place.
At present I remain, as ever, open to what life has in store for me.
It is important for me to be an informed self-advocate. This calls upon me to have and or seek guidance for my own life's serenity, my experiences, and my Great Creator. I will not be able to inform you, if I do not keep that connection. I can not give what I do not have to give. Therefore, I must have an open mind, allow time for reflection, and listen to those who see in me what I don't see in myself.
I must "Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence", as Desiderata says. So I must allow myself time for reflection and prayer.
The biggest lesson I've learned over the years is that I must take care of all of me not only my mental health but also my physical health. They work hand in hand, so I must listen to my body.
Most of all, I must always remember, as mentioned in Desiderata, that if I compare myself with others, I may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than myself.
