Survivor assists depression patients in Beach

Connie Hollands' road to mental recovery began with an 853-mile trek from Kalamazoo, Mich., in a beat-up blue Chrysler with a two-by-four propping up the driver's seat. // The car lasted 854 miles - it broke down for good the next day. // Hollands, it appeared, might not last much longer.

"My sister took one look at me and just started crying," Hollands said. "I go, 'What's wrong?' And she said, 'I'm just happy to see you.' "

Except Hazel Woods wasn't really shedding tears of joy. They were tears of shock - the Hollands that stood before her had knotty uncombed hair, chunks of food in her teeth, weighed all of 98 pounds and couldn't have cared less about any of it.

Today, Hollands is a 55-year-old soon-to-be master's degree earner and an empathetic advocate for others with mental health disorders through the city's Department of Human Services.

But before she was an employee, Hollands was a mental health services client.

A seemingly hopeless, near-suicidal client.

"I just wanted to die," Hollands said. "And I couldn't understand why no one would let me."

A Virginia Beach native, Hollands said she suspects at least some of her mental health issues were hereditary. Severe depression led her mother, Eunice Dailey, to commit suicide.

Hollands initially shrugged off her own early bouts with depression, figuring a couple of months of medication would snap her back. Only shortly after she'd popped her last pills, the symptoms returned. She continually felt like crying. Wanted to sleep all the time. And maintained an attitude that life basically sucked.

But mentally ill? Not me, Hollands said.

"Just a little depressed, that's all," she'd claim.

This "little" depression stayed with her through seven years of working as a food service manager, then intensified through a divorce and getting laid off. Her next job, as a 911 dispatcher, lasted two months.

So did the next job. And the next job. And the next.

"It's their loss," Hollands thought as she cleaned out her desk each time.

Until finally, there were no other jobs. And then at home, no electricity or phone or car.

A friend took Hollands in, but the downward mental spiral continued. Now, it was in addition to being bed-ridden and down in the mouth. Hollands began to experience the sensation of an army of ants crawling throughout her body.

Finally at rock bottom, Hollands called Woods and her aunt Jessie Lindsay, and the two urged her to return to Virginia Beach. A local church group had raised enough money to provide Hollands with the old blue Chrysler. She fired it up and headed east.

"One of the first things she said to me was, 'We're going to get your hair done,' " Hollands said.

That was just for starters. The two relatives convinced Hollands to write down her thoughts and feelings, and outline some goals for the future. Hollands didn't get it, but she did it.

Lindsay passed away about five years ago, and Woods died a couple of years later. Hollands refers to both as her "angels" for helping to set her straight.

After a series of monitoring and counseling sessions at Beach House, therapists diagnosed Hollands with having severe depression with psychotic tendencies. She requires a "cocktail" of medication to prevent her symptoms from returning, and she suspects that she always will.

Hollands continued working out her issues at Beach House, the city's psychosocial rehabilitation program for people with mental health disorders. She made such progress that when a part-time clerical position in the city's mental health department came open, they offered her a chance.

"They knew my history, but they took me anyway," she said.

The grateful employee returned the favor by working so efficiently that her original six-month gig continues today. In fact, her role has expanded to the point where Hollands now also handles peer-to-peer counseling and leads wellness recovery action plans for people who have mental illnesses.

LeAnne Brant, the supervisor of the office of consumer and family affairs within the mental health substance division, said Hollands' mere presence is an asset.

"Connie offers hope," Brant said. Emboldened by her professional success, Hollands set out to add a master's degree to her education resume. She expects to complete work on her MBA in late June and plans to start work on a doctorate degree in the fall. The goal is to continue lending her voice to the search for mental wellness.

After all, it's the voice of experience.

Paul White, (757) 418-1447, paul.white@pilotonline.com