The Space Where My Story Started
In this empty lot once stood the old Native hospital where my life began in ’87. It’s hard to believe that such an important part of my personal history is now just an open space. Being born here marked the beginning of my journey, a journey that has taken many unexpected turns. Much like the vacant lot it left behind, the hospital’s absence is an analogy for life’s constant changes.
Reminiscing on the hospital’s disappearance reminds me of the unpredictable nature of life itself. One moment, something exists that is so big of a part of your story, and the next, it’s gone, leaving behind a space that reminds us of the memories of what used to be. This place, where I took my first breath, now represents the ever-changing nature of being and how beginnings are often followed by endings. Yet, within that cycle, there’s always the possibility for new beginnings. Despite the emptiness, the significance of where my life started remains a powerful reminder that even in absence, there’s a story to be told and lessons to be learned.
Villages That Shaped My Early Years
The first island on the Aleutian Chain, False Pass, within the embrace of the sea, is the Unangan village of my Dad, a spirited fishing community where life is tied to the ocean. Here, my Dad was a commercial fisherman, which provided money and subsistence to eat. Despite its humble size, False Pass was rich with a sense of unity that made it feel like one big family. Birthdays were communal celebrations at the heart of our community center, and ‘picnics’ were adventurous outings to the island’s hidden gems, making us closer with every shared laughter and story.
Far from the ocean’s whisper, Grayling stands on the Yukon River to the Athabascan heritage of my mother, cradled in the huge expanses of Interior Alaska. It was here, in this village, that my living Grandparents held the core of our family’s past, teaching us traditional knowledge that wasn’t destroyed by the Western world. The journey between False Pass and Grayling was a bridge between two worlds, each rich with its own customs and wisdom. Under the gentle teachings of my Grandparents, I was gifted with lessons that only the land and its keepers could teach, from the subtle art of living with nature to the deep, teaching stories that have traveled through generations.
In both villages, I was given the greatest gift of all, belonging. Despite their distinct landscapes and traditions, False Pass and Grayling created the center of my identity, each part telling of community, family, and the invaluable legacy of ancestral knowledge. It was within these nurturing environments that I learned the true meaning of unity, tradition, and the unforgettable sense of being part of something larger than oneself.
Love and Loss
Losing my Dad was the first earth-shattering experience of my life. I was a complete daddy’s girl, and watching the strongest man I knew battle cancer only to succumb to it broke me in ways I couldn’t comprehend at the time. His passing when I was just 15 marked the beginning of my battle with alcohol, a misguided attempt to dull the pain that had taken root in my heart.Just as I was fighting with the loss of my Dad, another tragedy struck again four years later when my sister was lost at sea, a heartbreak that plunged me further into the depths of addiction and self-pity. The guilt of not being there to save her weighed heavily on me, mixed with a survivor’s guilt that made each day a struggle.
Looking back, I see the crossroads where I could have chosen a path of healing rather than one of numbing the pain. My journey through grief was darkened by the shadow of alcohol, a choice that, at the time, felt like the only way to silence the pain. It’s only over time and the painful lessons learned that I’ve come to understand the importance of seeking healthy ways to cope, grieve, and eventually find a way forward. The loss of my Dad and sister were defining moments that reshaped my view on life and the critical need for supportive connections. While I can’t change the past, their memories remind me of the human spirit’s weaknesses and strengths, guiding me toward healing and resilience.
Survival
After my sister’s loss, I found myself in a cycle of destructive choices, including a harmful relationship that only deepened my dependency on alcohol. The decision to leave was the beginning of a brutal chapter. I was jobless, struggling with addiction, and without a home. My children were the only light in this darkness, safely with my Mom, who had to make the decision to practice tough love on me to protect them. From 2016 to 2020, I lived without a roof over my head, becoming a part of the homeless community.
In this community, I found a feeling of belonging. Despite our struggles with addiction and mental health, there was a shared understanding and attempts to support one another. Yet, the streets were still dangerous. In 2017, a violent incident at the shelter left me with a life-threatening stab wound to my liver. A moment so ironic it seemed like a twisted sign from the universe. An alcoholic, stabbed in the liver, yet I still couldn’t see the sign to change.
Later that same year, as I legally crossed the road, a truck did not stop at the light and hit me, resulting in a traumatic brain injury, adding to my challenges. This event wasn’t just another struggle for recovery. It was a lesson in the importance of medical advocacy. Facing disregard and prejudice from hospital staff who were quick to judge based on my homelessness, my Mom’s intervention was required. Her insistence on proper care highlighted our society’s failures that often overlook the most vulnerable. Without her, they would have discharged me and missed the swelling in my brain.
These experiences, as difficult as they were, taught me invaluable lessons about survival, the power of community, and the critical need for empathy and advocacy in healthcare. Looking back, I see that each of these moments was a stepping stone toward understanding the depth of my resilience and the importance of fighting for oneself and others in the face of society’s quick judgments. These are lessons that I apparently needed to learn the hard way.
Finding Sobriety
In late 2018 and early 2019, I faced my scariest time, complete liver failure from years of drinking. The doctors gave me no more than 30 days to live. The thought of leaving my family in such a state, especially after seeing the confusion and concern in my children’s eyes, was unbearable. They asked me why I was so tired, and why my skin was so yellow. Their innocent questions shook me into motion, refusing to let my story end in misery. I found a glimmer of hope in the Den-A-Coy Residential Treatment Center, which became my healing refuge. There, a counselor became an angel, showing me that change was possible and that I mattered. Her guidance was needed in my journey towards recovery, teaching me to face my past and embrace healthy coping mechanisms. As my mental health began to heal, my physical health miraculously followed, and the need for a liver transplant was no longer needed, allowing me to rebuild my life piece by piece.
In June 2020, I faced a relapse shortly after securing my own apartment and starting a new job. Despite this stumble, the experience reinforced my determination to maintain sobriety, a commitment I’ve upheld ever since. The journey through Den-A-Coy, marked by the valid questioning of my children, taught me lessons about the power of support, the importance of facing one’s challenges, and the powerful strength of the human spirit. Their voices, filled with concern and innocence, were reminders of what was at stake and fueled my determination to fight for a brighter future. This path has shown me that healing and transformation are possible with the right support and willingness to confront our deepest struggles.
Out of the Darkness
As I approach four years of sobriety and prepare for my social work practicum this fall, my journey from battling addiction and homelessness to finding stability and hope has created a desire to help others. The dream of providing a stable home for my family has recently been achieved by purchasing a townhome. I am filled with gratitude and almost scared to say that I am happy that I experienced the things I did because, without these lessons, I would still be lost. While our assignment suggested using current pictures, I found it necessary to include some older ones to fully convey the depth of my story.With my practicum on the horizon and graduation anticipated in spring 2025, I’m eager to apply what I’ve learned from my own life to assist others in their journeys.
I hope my story of resilience and recovery offers hope to anyone overwhelmed by life’s challenges. We need to remember that there’s a way forward, even in the darkest times. My survival, once uncertain, now fuels my pledge to social work, where I aim to guide others out of darkness using the lessons of my past and the teachings of my present. As I move into the next phase of my life, I’m dedicated to making a difference, proving that change and recovery are within reach for everyone. My past is not a disadvantage but a motivation to create positive change, showing the power of hope and determination.
Comments
6 responses to “Places that Shaped Me”
Oh my goodness gracious, you ought to think about making a book because I find your writing to be poetic. I think I already said that a few weeks back for the first ever blogs, but it must be said again!
To be honest (again), I cried a bit reading your story because your words definitely show your resilience and power from what was once the darkest part of your life. You’re most definitely a walking-living-breathing example of motivation and determination to make a positive change in people’s lives, your story truly holds so much power to do so.
My family has struggled with alcoholism and dependency on weed as well, and I even suffer from the grasp weed has had on me, but I’m thankfully sober now. I don’t understand what you completely went through, but I get how addiction can alter a life so dangerously, and see how it changes people. You truly are so strong, and I am so proud of you for going so far in your life, and for your children as well. Bouncing back from addiction and homelessness is truly a life event to celebrate forever. I’m so happy for you, and I hope you have an amazing day!
Hi Jere! Thank you once again for your warm and encouraging words. They really make a difference and inspire me to keep sharing my journey. The idea of writing a book has been mentioned to me before, and it’s something that I find myself increasingly inspired by, though not necessarily as a concrete goal at this moment. Instead, I’m intrigued by the possibility of gathering a collection of short stories. These wouldn’t just be my own experiences but would include stories from other Indigenous people who have faced and overcome life’s challenges. We could also get the perspectives of our families, who endure their own hardships as they watch us through our struggles.
These stories could be centered around Indigenous people because our voices are often marginalized, and our stories go untold. Sharing a gathering of success stories could offer a beacon of hope to others in similar situations, showcasing the strength and resilience of our communities. While the idea of creating such a book is more of an inspiration, I’m pondering rather than a set goal for now, I remain committed to sharing my experiences and those of my community in any way possible, whether academically, personally, or professionally.
Hi Danelle, what an emotional post for me to read. You’re such a resilient woman and your story is inspiring. What really hit me was how you started to drink at age 15 after your father passed from cancer. I also started drinking after my dad passed from cancer when I was 14. I’m so sorry about the loss of your sister, and I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost any of my siblings. I was also born at the old Native hospital too, back in 1982. Thanks for sharing a part of your life with us, it’s always nice to read or hear real life stories from others.
Hi Victor, thank you for your kind words, and please accept my condolences for your Dad. The loss of a parent at such a young age has been something I am still working through today. The idea of making him proud helps me on my bad days. And sharing stories about my loved ones also keeps them fresh in my mind.
Danelle, your story is so beautiful and telling of perseverance even when the odds may stack against you. Its really interesting to see how much things change as years go by. My condolences for your losses, it must have been unimaginably tough to go through that so close together. I’m very happy for you and wish you all the best with your practicum and in life!
Hey Danelle,
Your story is one of triumph and resilience, and I am so glad you found recovery! It is so wonderful when we can give back what was so freely given to us.
Congratulations on 4 years! ODAT
Thank you for being so vulnerable and honest.
Ariel