Inspiring Stories

Ann Dagle

“In 2011, my life as a mom of three boys, with very different personalities and who were transitioning into young men, was far from perfect. But one thing was sure: they all knew how much they were loved by their parents, their large extended family and so many friends.

I think this was especially true for Brian, the youngest of the three. His charismatic personality, sparkling blues eyes and sensitive soul melted many hearts.

Brian lost his life to suicide in November of his sophomore year at Castleton University in Vermont. I equate Brian’s death to a tsunami that hit my family, friends and anyone who was blessed to have known him. Everyone questioned, ‘How could something like this happen to a family that seemed to be so loving and connected to community?’

In the weeks and months following Brian’s death, life was a blur. Grief was exhausting, isolating, physically and mentally painful. I struggled to find a reason to live but my focus turned to my surviving sons. I needed to always keep them close by and spoiled them with anything they needed.

I also became fixated on searching for other mothers like me. It felt like my grief left me alone on a deserted island. I needed to find other loss survivors. Sadly, I found them — moms who lost children to suicide but also to tragic accidents. They understood. We talked, we walked, we cried and shared about our kids without judgement, silly cliches or advice we did not need. I also discovered the benefits of a grief support group for survivors of suicide loss. Twice a month on Friday nights, we shared our similar stories and found ourselves saying, ‘Me too, I feel the same way.’

For our family and Brian’s friends, the landscape of our lives was undeniably changed. My family of five suddenly became a family of four. Each person’s grief was uniquely their own – mother, father, brother, aunts, cousins, roommates, neighbors – their relationship with Brian was special based on every life he touched. Years later, I cherish the stories from people who I never knew but who were touched by Brian’s kindness.

The next few years, the roller coaster ride of emotions was overwhelming. The ups and downs of grief were relentless. The dance between two steps forward and twenty back left me feeling confused, lost, frightened and unsure of my place in the world. I wondered when I would ever find solid ground.

As I reflect on my journey, the year 2014 was a pivotal time in my healing. It was when I could finally fully embrace the long road ahead of engaging in the grief work that would be necessary to my healing. Until that point, I could only survive but I knew I needed and deserved more than that, to maybe even thrive.

Without a real plan, mission or any ideas on what we wanted this to look like, in 2014 my family and I opted to give purpose to the unimaginable pain we experienced and start the Brian Dagle Foundation.

Businesses, friends and people we didn’t know stepped forward to help us organize fundraisers. 2014 was the first year of the Niantic Jingle Bell 5K, our biggest fundraiser. It has grown to one of the top 5K’s in the state, with more than 1,500 registrants, raising more than $100,000. I learned to share my story, Brian’s story. I learned that his story did not end when his life did.

I educated myself by attending suicide prevention trainings. I received a certification in Grief and Death Studies to support anyone grieving the loss of someone and became a QPR (Question, Persuade, Refer) certified trainer (just like CPR, QPR is an emergency response to someone in crisis and can save lives) to teach others the signs I did not see. I’m sure I gained as much healing in helping others as they received from me. But it was so hard. It was hard to be so vulnerable about my story, about Brian, about the darkest times in my life, but it was my way to honor Brian, and still is today.

In 2018 one of our greatest accomplishments in this journey was opening Brian’s Healing Hearts Center for Hope and Healing. At the Center we offer HOPE to hundreds of adults grieving the loss of a loved one from any loss: spouses who’ve lost the loves of their lives to disease or an accident, bereaved parents who’ve lost a child tragically to accidents, illness, drug overdoses or suicide. It’s a safe place to feel connected and understood by others who are also on this journey.

Now, almost 13 years after Brian’s death, we’re celebrating ten years of incredible accomplishments at the Brian Dagle Foundation and Brian’s healing Hearts Center for Hope and Healing. I’ve learned to hold joy and sadness together: I hold the joy for my beautiful family and fulfilling life, and I hold the sadness for the cost it took to get here.

The tragic loss of Brian has led us to this work. He is my reason. Together we make a difference in the world one person at a time.”

Alyeska Tilly

“My mental health suffering began in 8th grade, coinciding with puberty. I had low self-esteem, felt self-conscious, suffered from self-hatred and was frequently in a negative mood. I felt negativity toward myself, school and the world.

I didn’t realize these were symptoms of depression.

In high school I started having panic attacks, and sophomore year I began self-harming. I was active on social media and on Tumblr. It was there that I began seeing posts about general anxiety and panic attacks and, for the first time, I was able to put names to my feelings: depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, self-harm.

So now I had the names, but what could I do about it? For me, I experienced constant intrusive thoughts that changed the way I viewed the world and the objects in it. It wasn’t like I had anything planned out, these thoughts showed up as disturbances in my everyday life. For example, I would be walking down the stairs at high school and think about throwing myself down them. Or, if I approached a crosswalk in the street, I would think about throwing myself in front of a car. At the same time, I was on my high school’s varsity swim team. No one would have ever guessed or noticed that I led a secret life or noticed the scars that I sneakily hid under my swimsuit.

I was scared to talk about my feelings for fear of the outcome, and I didn’t want to disappoint my wonderful parents who gave me a good childhood – I wanted to protect them from feeling that they had failed.

I had been struggling for a long time. I was lucky to be able to confide in friends who related to me and were also struggling with similar issues and on social media communities.

During the last two years of high school, I experienced my first boyfriend and my first breakup. My first boyfriend didn’t relate to having mental health struggles or the nuances that come with them and didn’t really know how to support me. I had been wanting help for a long time but didn’t know what to do. I also always had this overbearing feeling that my problems weren’t serious or ‘bad enough’ to seek professional help.

During our breakup, it became obvious that I needed professional help, but I knew I couldn’t do it without my parents or the support of another adult. It wasn’t until my mom found my college essay I had left in the printer that she discovered what I had been hiding. It was then that I was finally able to admit how much I had been struggling. At first, she was apprehensive; I was swim team captain, president of after-school clubs, had good grades, tons of friends and hobbies, how could I be depressed? How could I be thinking about suicide? It took a couple of tough conversations, but eventually she came to understand and helped me book my first therapy appointment.

I went to therapy for a year before I started college. It helped me to understand the root causes of what I was going through and better understand myself. Unfortunately, therapy fell by the wayside when I started college at Southern. Telehealth didn’t exist at the time, and I was reluctant to go to the school clinic, thinking that my problems weren’t as great as others’, that someone else needed those spaces more than I did. But, through the deep reflection techniques I learned in therapy and tips others shared on social media, I created a mental ‘toolbar’ of skills I could use that helped me cope with my struggles. For example, when I start to feel a panic attack coming on, I use the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 grounding method:

In the room right now, name:

  • 5 things you can see
  • 4 things you can hear
  • 3 things you can feel
  • 2 things you can smell
  • 1 thing you love

I also find the Calm Harm app for self-harm and the Reframing Negative Thoughts technique very valuable.

[It’s important to note that although social media was helpful to me in many ways, it could be a harmful and toxic place too, showing images of self-harm and encouraging eating disorders. While it’s important that we keep social media a common and sacred meeting space for young people, we also need to make it safe by ensuring that proper and evidence-based messaging and resources are available.]

From early high school, I knew I wanted to be in the mental health field and help change the system, make it more accessible and help people like me. I centered my college essay around my favorite quote from Brené Brown: ‘One day, you will tell your story of how you overcame what you went through, and it will be someone else’s survival guide.’

I earned my bachelor’s in psychology and later, my master’s in social work, focusing on community organizing and policy.

Even though I was healing and had a great college experience, I still had my ups and downs. Mental health is a life-long battle. I think there were many things that contributed to my mental health issues: puberty and hormones (which I hope we do more research around), environmental and social factors, etc. But the most important thing I realized is that we never need a ‘reason’ for struggling with mental illness or suicide. It can affect anyone. This understanding helped my healing journey. Instead of struggling with suicidal ideation multiple times a week, I struggle maybe two times a year. I now have the skills to recognize what’s happening and help me get through it.

If you are or have a teenager, I hope that by sharing my story you take away these nuggets:

  • There are probably many people in this world who do not understand you, but trust that there are also so many who do, you will find them.
  • Therapy and resources are not a one size fits all, it’s about finding what works best for you as an induvial, and that may take time.
  • No, our mental health system isn’t perfect, but it is improving every year, every month, every day, and there are people like me who have been where you are, who are working hard to keep making it better.
  • Even when it doesn’t feel like it, there ARE resources and people out there available and able to help you.
  • Everyone’s support system looks different, some people find support in their parents, some find support in friends, co-workers, online communities. Wherever you find it, it’s important to have healthy – support and connection.
  • You are not alone.
  • It’s sometimes hard to believe people when they say it gets better – I sure didn’t believe it when I was younger. It’s hard to believe because the healing process and life in general are like a roller coaster. The truth is that you may dip many times during healing. It’s a push and pull process that isn’t as simple as going to therapy one day and suddenly feeling ‘cured.’ I still have bad days now, but I used to have only bad days; now most of my days feel good, and happy and free.
  • Healing is not about needing to feel 100% but feeling even 10% better than you felt at the darkest times. That matters and deserves to be celebrated. You are important; that 10% is important. 100% is a hard expectation to put on yourself or others. Even people who do not struggle with mental health issues do not feel 100% every day. You are human, it’s okay to not be okay.
  • Even though struggling with mental health is a very negative experience, there are some positives that can come out of it. I gained so many skills in empathy and resilience, I built a career for myself from my experience and found my life’s passion.
  • You may be fighting a demon that is nasty and strong but know that you are stronger. You can do this. Don’t give up. Stay strong. The roller coaster ride of life is worth all the ups and downs that come with it.”

Thank you Alyeska for sharing your experience, strength and hope with us.

Dita Bhargava

In 2018, Dita Bhargava lost her oldest son, Alec, on his 26th birthday to fentanyl poisoning while he was living in a sober home in Canaan, CT. Since his passing, Dita has been working on creating awareness and erasing stigma.

Dita is a mental health advocate and a member of our UWCT Board of Directors. A former electrical engineer with more than 25 years in the finance industry, Dita has actively dedicated her career to advocate for people living with mental health and substance use disorders.

We invite you to meet Dita and hear her story by watching this video.

Jamie McDonald

Jamie personifies dedication to both quality and the community. His community focus includes a commitment to hire people who have been involved with the justice system and raising their minimum wage in 2016 to $15 an hour for “non-tip” employees. Jaime also supports many local charities. He is an integral part of Operation BBQ Relief, delivering the healing power of BBQ to disaster-affected communities (like victims of Hurricane Katrina and flood victims in Texas) and World Central Kitchen, where he cooked and provided food for Ukraine refugees in Turkey.

This week we’d like to introduce you to Jamie “The Bear” McDonald. Jamie is the owner of the Bear’s Smokehouse franchise. A competitive eater and bodybuilder, he opened his first restaurant in South Windsor in 2013 with winnings from a competitive eating contest.

But Jamie’s story, like many of ours, runs much deeper. In 2022 he shared his story with Mental Health Connecticut, hoping it might help someone else take whatever steps they might need to get help. “Jamie wants people to know that sometimes what you see on the outside is not at all what’s going on inside. He knows this because for decades he tried to put a good face on depression, anxiety, trauma, and ultimately, alcoholism. It didn’t work.”

“I’m very open about this and hope it helps people to see,” he says. “Part of the problem is the stigma around it and that people think they have to hide it out of shame or judgment.”

“From outward appearances my life was fantastic,” he adds. “People would say everything is sunny in Bear Country.” That only added more pressure to look the part, Jamie says. “What do I have to be depressed or unhappy about? So, you push it down and keep a positive face.”

Jamie’s issues began as a child. He grew up in a family with physical and mental abuse. He also experienced sexual abuse from a stranger. For a while he tried to compensate by being hyper-focused on things like mountain biking and bodybuilding. He was also an overachiever at work. “I’ve always had an addictive personality,” he says of his various temporary obsessions. “But it was all just trying to shut down my mind from thinking about the trauma stuff or the black hole inside me.”

“No matter how many awards you get, it makes you feel better for a second but then it’s back to the depression and anxiety and not feeling like you’re good enough, no matter what anybody says,” he says.

Before starting Bear’s Smokehouse, Jamie worked for United Technologies Corporation (UTC) after leaving the Navy. He married and had a son and daughter. In order to deal with increasing anxiety and depression, he began drinking more.

Restaurant life made drinking easy. “I could drink as much as I wanted to,” Jamie says. “I went from a single pour of bourbon at the end of the night to well over a bottle a day within 8-9 months. I would drink all day at work and then drink at night until I passed out. I was doing it to shut off my brain and stop having these thoughts.”

This went on for about a year, Jamie says. “During that time my depression was getting worse and worse and worse.” He separated from his now ex-wife. “I lived alone so I didn’t have to worry about anybody’s judgment. The kids were not exposed to it.”

When booze didn’t do the trick, Jamie added Ambien to the mix, which only made his depression worse, he says. The nadir came one day when he was in his basement with his dog, Bernie. “I was crying to myself. I would tell Bernie I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired,” he says. That night he got out his gun and put it in his mouth. “The only thing that saved me was the thought that no one knows where I am and Bernie’s going to get hungry and eat me. That’s what stopped me from pulling the trigger that night. I reached out to my ex and said I need help.”

Jamie spent two months at a rehab facility going through various therapies. Today he has been sober for five years and counting.

Aware that recovery is “always a work in progress,” Jamie has made speaking out about his life as much of a mission as making award-winning BBQ. Well aware of the second chance he’s been given in life, he offers second chances to others, like working in Ukraine to help feed refugees. He is also involved in Linked4Life, a nonprofit dedicated to raising awareness about mental health issues and suicide prevention.

And he remains committed to telling his story. “The shame is part of what drives the cycle,” he says. “You don’t have to be ashamed. As a community leader, I’m comfortable sharing with you all and I hope this lets you know you can, too. More people are coming out about their own struggles. Hopefully down the road we can treat mental illness just like any other illness or injury.”

Mara Wolff

Mara just graduated from East Lyme High School and is headed to the Gabelli School of Business at Fordham University. She shares that she is “over the top excited to be in Lincoln Center and Manhattan!” But life has not always been this happy and hopeful. Mara bravely shares her story:

Growing up, my family had such high standards for me. Both of my parents immigrated from communist Romania in the early 90s and they pushed me beyond my limits. This environment led me to overwork and push myself, more than my parents wanted me to. I became a perfectionist, setting a plan for my future and needing to follow it. But there were many obstacles to this “perfect” plan I had crafted.

I have had severe anxiety since I was little. I never knew how to manage it until I started counseling in 7th grade. This anxiety set me back: my grades weren’t as high as I wanted them to be, and I wasn’t a good test taker.

For my freshman year of high school, I transitioned from a small private school with a class size of 30 to a school with more than 250 students. Being in a new town with no friends was not easy at all. I became severely depressed, was diagnosed with OCD and developed anorexia. I was being force-fed, stuck in an inpatient treatment facility with no time to myself. All the plans I had made were falling apart. My friends were volunteering and catching the sun at the beach while I cried at home, looking at a glass of orange juice.

One night, everything became too much. I was depressed, anxious about the upcoming school year and angry about treatment. I was so emotional that night: screaming, crying and throwing things. I couldn’t take it. I thought I had no future. I couldn’t endure the pain I was going through to get better. I didn’t see a finish line to my recovery. I couldn’t endure everyday life after everything I had been through.

I vividly remember grabbing a sharp object and attempting suicide. But I couldn’t stand seeing my own blood running down the sides of my leg. I put the object down and hid in my closet — the one place I felt safe, in this dark corner of my house where I felt reality didn’t exist. 

I was so hurt and lost. I grabbed my phone and dialed the suicide hotline. I was so antsy waiting for the contact specialist to pick up. What could this person do for me? Why was I calling them? But I can’t stress enough how glad I am that I did. She saved my life. 

Sitting on the phone, she made me feel safe. She guided me through techniques to calm down and helped me realize the bigger picture in life. I have never been more thankful to someone than I am to the contact specialist who spoke with me that day. 

It has been more than two years since that phone call. Two years of me finding myself and my purpose. And I am so happy I am still here today. I have so much hope for my future: going to college, advocating for various mental disorders and having many people around me who love me – the people I hadn’t noticed two years ago. 

If this journey has taught me one thing, it’s that I have the strength to do anything. I wake up every morning excited about what the day has to offer. I’ve gained so much strength through self-reflection and realize I can tackle any daily challenge and can grow from it. 


Gizmo

In FY22, the 211 Mental Health Crisis Team handled 146,776 crisis calls. These calls represent a 16% increase over FY21 and comprise 42% of all calls to 211.

So, what does this have to do with Gizmo, you ask?

Gizmo, the narrator of Gizmo’s Pawesome Guide to Mental Health, is a therapy dog. For the past 12 years, he has been comforting people when they are feeling sad, mad, or worried and, through his Pawesome Guide, provides school-aged children with the tools needed to manage their mental health. But Gizmo is aging and in 2023 is preparing to retire with a farewell retirement tour.

We took some time to speak with Gizmo as he reflects on the impact of his work and his upcoming retirement.

Gizmo shares that “I work in schools a lot. So, I see lots of kids and I love all those kids a lot! I bet I would love every kid in the whole wide world a lot! So that’s why I’ve used my platform to advocate for mental health, especially for children.”

“Let me tell you about one of the most profound experiences I’ve had as a therapy dog/mental health advocate. One time I was at that big high school walking down the hall. Mom thought we were going to the office, but I had other plans. As we turned a corner, we saw a girl we hadn’t met before. She was all by herself and crying softly. As soon as I saw her, I stopped at her feet and would not budge. She dropped to the floor right away to be closer to me and said, “Gizmo, I knew I would find you today!” (That’s when I jumped into her lap.)

She told us this was her first day at our school and that she had just moved here all the way from Ill..Illa…Illanoise. Then she opened her almost empty backpack and pulled out the only item in it: a copy of Gizmo’s Pawesome Guide to Mental Health. She explained that her former teacher gave it to her because she knew the move to CT was super hard for her, and that she might feel sad, mad or worried about it.

The student told me she didn’t even know I was in Connecticut, much less inside her new school. So, I pawtographed her book. Then I made sure she got connected with lots of trusted adults. That’s super important to help kids do that!”

When we asked Gizmo about being a public figure and an influencer with nearly 200,000 followers, he explained to us that his followers on Facebook call themselves ‘Gizmo’s Big Army of Frens.’ “Those people are all so kind and loving! I told my mom I wanted to have a page of love and compassion, that’s all…because I’m a dog, and that’s all I am made of! These wonderful people from all walks of life who follow my page are the real influencers, though. They influence me to believe in the goodness of humanity. I’m one lucky dog to love and be loved by this army of very kind frens!”

“When I retire, I will miss all those excellent people I visited. I snuggled with people of many different beliefs, different backgrounds, different cultures, different ages, and different reasons for needing or wanting a therapy dog like me. You know what we all had in common? Love. I will not miss the love, though. I carry it in my heart forever.”

“In my retirement I’m most looking forward to my mom taking care of me. And by taking care of me, I mean taking me out for ice cream! I’ll even let my baby brother, Gadget, come along!”

“To all the people of Connecticut I want to say thank you so very muchly, frens! I love you for being you, ok? I hope you love yourself for being you, too!”

Gizmo’s Pawesome Guide to Mental Health© is a social-emotional learning curriculum, currently being used in 20 Connecticut schools, that gives kids the tools to manage their mental health. The Guide and Curriculum help kids learn:

  • Mental health is as important as physical health.
  • How to identify when mental health needs attention.
  • Daily activities and healthy coping strategies that
  • support mental health.
  • How to identify and connect with trusted adults.

The curriculum was developed, with the support of federal grant funding, by United Way of Connecticut and key state agencies including the Departments of Mental Health and Addiction Services and Children and Families, the Suicide Advisory Board, and other dedicated partners. Learn more at https://www.gizmo4mentalhealth.org.

Roberto Gonzalez

Roberto Gonzalez is 25 years old and proudly half Dominican and half Ecuadorian. After graduating from high school in his hometown of Bridgeport, he quickly realized that he was not quite ready for college and enlisted in the U.S. Army. He spent four active years in Oklahoma working on the cannon crew and as a field artillery member. While on active duty he married his wife Julia and became a father to his first child.

Roberto’s job required a lot of tedious work and heavy lifting and didn’t lend itself to transitioning to a “real-world” job. The onset of the pandemic affected his ability to explore new positions within the Army and made raising his son in isolation very difficult. He shares that “one of the biggest lessons I learned was being able to appreciate my family. It was my first time being away from home and that gave me the opportunity to mature and grow as a person.” But once his contract expired, Roberto was ready to return to Connecticut.

Anticipating the difficulty of being able to find affordable housing, before Roberto and his family returned home, they reached out to Middlesex Habitat for Humanity of CT, Inc. and applied to their Veterans Build program – a program that works to provide homeownership opportunities to current military and veterans of all service branches. The program partners with homeowners who are service members working to build a better life for their families. Roberto’s family lived with Julia’s parents in Naugatuck while they completed their 350 hours of sweat equity on their new home in Middlefield. The Gonzalez family gratefully moved into their new home in May of this year.

Roberto is a full-time student at UConn Waterbury, exploring the fields of Information Technology, Computer Engineering and Finance. He also raises his children and takes care of them while Julia is at work and studies respiratory therapy full-time. Roberto’s GI benefits help pay his school expenses and provide a basic housing allowance. He also receives disability benefits for the toll his job took on his body and his mental health. And like some veterans, Roberto and his family participate in as much public assistance as possible, like WIC and SNAP. Five percent of Connecticut’s financially insecure veterans received Supplementary Security Income (SSI) and 17% participated in the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP).

Roberto shares that it’s “important to have a plan, whether you stay in active duty or get out. We had a pretty decent plan – we have a house, go to school and raise our kids with lots of love and appreciation. The end game far outweighs all the stuff I’ve ever been through.” And because he wasn’t able to completely give up on his dream of serving in the military, Roberto is currently enlisted in the National Guard, and is being re-classed as an IT Specialist to better align with his interests.

Hear directly from Roberto and learn more about ALICE Veterans by checking out these news clips:

Steve MacHattie

Steve M

Steve MacHattie, LCSW and Owner of the Charter Oak Family Center in Manchester, has lived experience – he began experiencing suicidal thoughts and survived his first suicide attempt when he was six or seven years old. “I remember being in my bedroom alone. I had a suicide plan that I thought would work and I tried to carry that plan out. After some amount of time, I realized what I was doing wouldn’t work and went downstairs to find my mother. The conversation I had with her, which simply dismissed my experience as a childish incident, was just the beginning of a battle with depression and suicide that would last for decades.”

Steve began his journey of recovery, little by little, with the help of those around him. He shares that his “struggles with my illness resulted in my illness often being my first reaction to life. If I had a bad day or week, depression was right there to remind me who I was. I feel like I internalized the stigma of mental illness from those around me. Even as things were going better and I progressed in my recovery, I still held myself back. I spent years, literally, hiding from people. My need to hide started when I was a child, though it gained strength as I got older.”

Shortly after Steve’s father passed away, he was struggling with suicidal thoughts while driving to a meeting. He pulled over and called 211 because “I needed to connect with someone who cared.” In a moment when he thought no one cared, he said the contact specialist who answered his call was patient, not rushed, really listened and cared. “Being able to talk through it helped me feel less anxious and angry. Having someone listen decreased my suicidal urges. She reminded me that there were still things in my life I wanted to do – that I had a future with hope and goals.”

Having experienced 211 as a lifeline, Steve, now a clinical social worker, pays it forward by sharing his experience, strength and hope with his clients and by referring them to 211 when in crisis.

Steve says that faith and hope are an important part of his story, and he isn’t hiding any longer. He joined a suicide prevention board, specifically, the Board’s lived experience committee. He’s taking singing lessons, and he puts himself up front and center teaching at the college level and loves it.

According to Steve, “Mental illness may be chronic, but it does not have to be terminal. We can still accomplish great things. Life comes with challenges, stresses, sorrows, even successes. Life is full of surprises, and I don’t have to allow those surprises to define me or stop me. My hope is that by talking about mental illness and my struggles with mental illness, I will help open a door that others will be able to walk through. I also hope that people with mental illness can learn to not judge themselves as harshly as I have been known to do.”

If you are struggling and need crisis and suicide prevention assistance, call 211. In Connecticut, 211 is the point of entry for all crisis intervention in Connecticut (988, National Suicide Prevention Lifeline [1-800-SUICIDE or 1-800-273-TALK (8255)], the Department of Mental Health and Addiction Service’s “Action Line” (1-800-HOPE-135) and the Youth Mobile Crisis Line through Connecticut 211.