Consumer Stories: Marvin McClure
Where to start? Probably around 5 years of age. Mom told me "that didn't happen. Grandpa loves you, he wouldn't hurt you." It seemed as if I melted through her arms and went through the cracks in the old wooden floor. There was no one to defend or protect me anymore. I was all alone. That was when I found my little place called nowhere. There was nothing there, not even me, but I was there none the less. Nobody was ever there to hurt me physically or with their words. The words hurt the most because they weren't true but they were said anyway and too often without any other person present standing up for me by disputing the wrongness of them. It's weird, I'm 53 now but I feel as if I'm 5 yrs old again writing this.
I'm Irish, Scottish and Swedish on my dad's side but for several years I was under the impression that "bastard" was a nationality. One day I asked my Sunday school teacher during class what bastard meant. A couple kids knew and said I was in trouble for saying a bad word. My teacher, bless her, took me outside and explained to me that it wasn't a bad word but it was only said to me by a bad person. That confused me even more because I was brought up to respect not only the elders in my family but all people who were older than me. Why would someone in my family be bad to me when they were supposed to love and protect me? And worse yet, I was supposed to respect them and believe what they told me.
My little place called nowhere came in handy for many years, but there was a drawback to not talking. After a while they expected me to keep quiet all the time. I can't recall how many times I was told to go play in a corner somewhere and keep my yap shut because there were people trying to talk and they didn't want to hear any of my nonsense. One Christmas after listening to most of them arguing for over an hour while in my corner playing with my toy car, I went to the table to get a drink. My aunt asked me what I thought about everything they had been talking about. I replied that it wasn't a conversation but an argument and the funny part was that they were all arguing the same side of the story, just using different words. Grandpa's kids, including my mom just sat there speechless while their spouses laughed and agreed with me. Grandpa said "don't go getten smart on me" and followed it up with a knuckle to the top of my head. I made it back to my corner before I started quietly crying, still wanting a drink. Later that night, he broke my car so it wouldn't work anymore. I went outside and thought about laying in the middle of the highway that ran by the house.
Grandpa told me one day that I could do every thing right and perfect the rest of my life and it would never make up for the pain and misery I had caused so many good people. What is a 5 year old supposed to think about those words of wisdom? After all, I respected him.
Let's skip from 5 to 16 years old. I don't want to write a novel.
I was still referred to as the worthless never amount to anything... My parents didn't say these harsh things to me but no one in the family ever stood up to that old man. My parents divorced when I was 16. My dad had always referred to men who left their families before their children were raised as the lowest sort of mankind. "By God if I ever split up with your mom all my kids will be raised and out from the home first." Well, that's what he said (I can't recall how many times). The night he left I cried myself to sleep thinking maybe bastard really is a nationality. They say your eyes are the window to your soul. I don't know what kind of tears came out but by morning my eyelids were glued shut like puss had dried into a scab. I was completely blind. With Mom's help I got one eye open after a half hour. I didn't go to school that day. I was already late when we got my second eye open and I was a mess. I graduated shortly thereafter from my little place called nowhere to self medicating, and I had to try everything at least once, except needles.
I worked 20 some years in a warehouse and was making good money, 80% insurance and 4 weeks paid vacation. I saved a lot of my earnings even while using drugs as I always used them in moderation. Then I let out some truthful information at a meeting of bosses and leadmen about how the farmers were being stolen blind. They say the truth will set you free. I just didn't understand how that was going to take place until the harassment started, then a demotion with no explanation, then given three jobs to do while those who were supposed to help me stood in the hall and chatted with the boss. When someone would help me catch up they seemed to put the product away in the wrong rows. I worked through breaks, lunches, and stayed after work on my own time to fix the mistakes, knowing I would be blamed for them. Those mistakes could have cost the company thousands of dollars. After a couple weeks of this I had a nervous breakdown. I was stuttering and couldn't stop crying. The psychiatrist said I was not to go back to work for 10 weeks. They had to pay my full wages during this time which made them even more inhumane when I tried to return to work. I knew if I didn't quit I would die or injure a coworker by driving my lift truck to fast. That's when moderation hit the fan and I put about $130,000 thousand into my pipe and smoked it till I had nothing left. I quit cold turkey rather than deal or God forbid steal to support my habit.
The stuttering and crying along with a deep depression and a fear of everything outside the house came over me. Mom came to my rescue, got me on GAU and into Comprehensive Mental Health. I was jerking like I had severe hiccups all the time, so I was put on Seroquel as well as Zoloft, then later Clonazapam. About this time my arthritis and a spinal stenosis severely limited my mobility.
It took three years to win my claim with Social Security with Mom's help.The judge asked me why I didn't sue the warehouse and I said I had two good friends that would've testified but they had families and were financially burdened. I didn't want them to go through what I did and lose their jobs too. Mom got me signed on with AARP also to help defray the cost of my medications.
I went through three psychiatrists as they retired or moved on to different companies. Then my counselor quit and went into private practice. She's happy and doing well and I'm happy for her, but by now I'm getting tired of telling my life story as I feared they would just quit or move on and I would be alone again. Then to fill the teacher's spot in my depression class who quit, one of the vice presidents at CWCMH came into my life. He took a personal interest in me and said he didn't take on any new clients but would be willing to be my counselor as long as I agreed to do what he said and not miss any appointments. I had misgivings but took him up on his offer anyway. At first weekly, then after a month every other week. When he said let's meet once a month, I said like a little kid "you're just trying to get rid of me." He said with a warm smile "Oh, do I recognize a bit of separation anxiety." All this time he had me filling out morning and evening depression scales, and made me list all the things I did that day that made me feel good. I wasn't allowed to list any negative feelings. The lists got longer each day, and I wrote down and drew it to his attention that I felt I was working myself out of a counselor. I realized I was recovering and didn't have separation anxiety about it either. He was overjoyed and praised me for my progress. We met two more times and he cut me loose but said if any problems arose to come to his office, that he would make time for me, even without an appointment. This made me feel very special. This was the time he asked me to go to the Sunrise Club, and try to go 3 times a week at least.
Well that is where I go to 5 and 6 days a week now. I'm involved in the newsletter and helped put our brochure together, do the attendance and post it in the proper ledgers, teach computer classes and have gone to two mental health conventions. I also applied at the Club for the Mental Health Transformation Project and to my amazement was accepted so now I'm lucky to be in a network that is going to change the mental health system. My self esteem has never been this high in my life.
I can't finish without giving thanks to my mother, brother, sister and several special friends who stood with me while I was lost and still stand behind me now that I'm in recovery. I missed my mother's day present this year and asked her to forgive me, but she said that what I've accomplished in the last 3 years in my life is a better gift than all the mother's day gifts she'd ever received. I lost her to cancer two months ago, but she is and will always be with me.
Perhaps I should look back at those who hurt me and try to understand what made them that way. Maybe that way I can forgive them and put the past in the past, and live for today with an eye on the future. I guess I should be thankful for the bad times I went through for now I know RECOVERY.
