“Life kicks a lot of us,” he said. “It’s up to us to either lay down and die with words carved in our arms, or to get up, brush the dust off and keep moving forward.”
WORCESTER – Sitting at the kitchen table of his Worcester home, Charles Smith held out his left arm and pointed to a couple of pale scars running along the inside of his forearm.
“You can faintly see the line here,” he said, pressing his index finger and dragging it across his skin. “And you can see a line there. I did this after my uncle and grandfather died about a month apart 18 years ago.”
The loss caused Smith to raise a blade to his arm to make the first cut.
“I became a carver,” he said. “I was in a deep, dark depression. I cut just enough to see the blood.”
Smith’s agonizing sadness was rooted in the death of his mother at age six and then the death of his father at age 11 while living in Van Horn, Texas. His uncle Richie brought the grieving boy back to Worcester, and his grandparents became his legal guardians. He moved next door with his aunt and uncle because they had more space. While he was with family, Smith felt numb and detached. He kept the pain hidden, but the hurt lingered through adolescence and his teenage years.
Doctors later diagnosed Smith with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) that started with his mother’s death and worsened after his father died. But, he did not know this as a kid. He only knew pain and anger.
“I felt like the world owed me for my loss,” he said. “It wasn’t fair. What did I do to deserve this?”
He turned to substance abuse. Smith had his first drink when he was 13 years old and partying with his buddies. He started smoking cigarettes and pot, eventually turning to cocaine by the time he was 17.
“It did help me forget,” he said as he clasped his fingers tightly on the kitchen table. “It took me out of that lost realm I was in, but I was headed on a destructive path.”
Smith’s downward trajectory was briefly halted after joining the military at age 20. “My aunt saw the path I was on and told me to get a job or don’t come home.” He spent the next three years in the Army. “Basic training almost killed me, but I was able to stay sober.”
Smith felt the absence of his parents during his basic training and infantry school graduations because he “was the only soldier without family.” He served three years of active duty at Fort Carson in Colorado, then became guard at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. Soon after leaving the army, Smith was working in security and sales when his uncle and grandfather both died, within one month of each other. The death of his caregivers caused the trauma to resurface.
“I was experiencing the loss of my father all over again,” he said. “I wanted to have them back … I wanted to tell them, show them I loved them and could change. I was so darkened by this depression that I tried taking my own life with a bottle of sleeping pills.”
Smith’s friends found him unresponsive the next day, but got him to the hospital in time to save his life. “I was in a daze and I remember hearing a doctor say that he was amazed I was still alive. Then I passed out again.”
Following his suicide attempt, the hospital sent Smith to the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) Brockton Mental Health facility where he spent a few days. Shortly after, Smith was homeless on the streets of Boston but found his way to a VA homeless shelter. It was there where he began to see things in a different light.
He met a Vietnam War veteran named Ford who lost his legs. Seeing others with similar backgrounds and injuries both mental and physical showed Smith that he wasn’t alone.
“I was ready to start my recovery,” he said.
Smith learned to understand his diagnosis and discovered ways to cope with his addictions. He used lessons from yoga, boxing and martial arts to manage his trauma. He talked with his fellow veterans. He also participated in wellness and mindfulness programs at Veterans Inc. of Worcester, an organization that helps homeless veterans transition out of homelessness.
“I found peace in my life for the first time since I was a child,” he said.
Smith eventually came to terms with his pain. He found coping skills through martial arts and exercise. Now, he feels good inside and out.
“It may not look like it, but I just lost eight pounds this week. I’m feeling good!”
Prior to the pandemic, Smith ran post-traumatic stress disorder programs at Veterans Inc. to help others cope with trauma. He became a peer support specialist in addiction recovery.
“I began to realize one of my best coping skills was helping others by sharing my story,” Smith said. “It has been difficult during the pandemic to not be able to help people, but I can’t wait to get back to helping them soon.”
Meanwhile, Smith recently graduated from Quinsigamond Community College with a degree in Human Services to help people deal with mental health. He plans to continue his education to become a mental health counselor, and is now the author of a series of self-help books titled Life Long Experience, which is geared toward tackling addiction and dealing with PTSD. In his latest book, Perspectives on Finding Success, Smith writes, “to truly overcome trauma … we need to find long term solutions through meditation, positive thinking, confidence building, talking with someone you trust and other grounding techniques and coping skills; not just Band-aids to cover up the wounds.”
Smith said he has no regrets because his journey brought him here: to helping others overcome their own traumas.
“I’m not proud of my past,” he said, cracking a reflective smile. “I now accept who I was and who I am now. Everything happens for a reason, and maybe I was meant to go through hell in order to help other people.”
Smith’s most valuable skill is honesty about his past and his ability to listen. “I started talking about my life,” he said. “I don’t tell them how they should fix their lives. The best thing I do is listen to them and try different coping skills. Everyone is different … I tell my story to inspire others … no matter how bad life gets … you can rise above.”
Smith has made his books available for free on Kindle for anyone in need of help.
“Life kicks a lot of us,” he said. “We can either lay down and die with words carved in our arms, or to get up, brush the dust off and keep moving forward.”
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