Dave's Story - From Hopeless Addiction to Recovery Advocate

Dave Aumiller, CPS • Sep 09, 2022

Dave's Story - From Hopeless Addiction to Recovery Advocate

My name is David Aumiller.  I grew up in a suburb of St. Louis MO with 2 loving parents and a dog.  I went to church on Sundays and won the D.A.R.E essay competition when I was in fourth grade, and played soccer with my friends and while I won’t say that I drank and used drugs addictively from the first time I tried them at 13, I will say that I never missed a chance. 


What started as mischief with my friends quickly escalated into decaying morals and loss of opportunities and important relationships.  To the horror of my parents I began experiencing repercussions such as detentions and suspensions at school.  I got kicked off of soccer teams that I used to captain.  I got kicked off Student Council and I even got arrested by the time I was 16.  I started trying to employ methods of substitution and moderation by the time I was a senior in high school all to no avail.  Daily drinking, marijuana, and LSD were regular pieces of my social life.


I was diagnosed with Cancer when I was 18 the night before district finals and never played soccer seriously again, but began using prescription pills as a result of the diagnosis and a lack of good coping skills.  My mother passed away unexpectedly later that year.  My cousin who was raised with me committed suicide, both sets of grandparents passed away, as did a close childhood friend all in the next few years.  Now a bartender i had begun the cycle of jails and institutions due to DWI’s and minor drug charges.  I wore all manner of ankle bracelets and exhausted friends and family with all manor of drama.  Becoming more and more lost my lack of accountability was creating a downward spiral I could not sustain much longer.   My father was also diagnosed with ALS around this time and due to the sadness and pressure of being his caretaker I turned to heroin in order to tolerate the pain of his sickness and eventual death. 

Within 12 months of his diagnosis he was gone but my guilt, shame, and addiction remained. 


I cut the cord to friends and family and ended up in prison.  Upon release it became quickly apparent that more of the same was in my future if I didn’t get help.  I went to inpatient rehab for my first and only time.  There I utilized medically assisted detox and eventually Vivitrol.  I met a peer and utilized his advice.  I moved into transitional living.  I attended community support groups and exercised.  I participated in my environment and gained responsibility.  I grew and recovered. 


Everything was going so well until I decided to move away from my support network and away from my accountability. What happened next might not surprise you - I relapsed and I was alone and away from home.
 I felt like I was using against my will and losing my mind.  It was a dark time.  It took me 5 years and a lot more pain before I could assemble any meaningful sobriety again. 


Miraculously somehow I was granted another reprieve.  I repeated the steps that had worked before.  Community support groups, healthy interactions, accountability, sober living, exercise, and health.  I vigilantly built back a life I could be proud of in recovery. 


I got the opportunity to finish my own therapy and work in recovery and have never looked back.  I moved back home, obtained a peer certification, began volunteering and working in the community, until I managed a 30 bed sober living intake facility in St. Louis.  I read, pray, and exercise on a daily basis.  I have assembled years of peer experience amidst a myriad of different clinical settings and teams. All of this has led me to my role at
You Are Accountable where I am so excited to further my impact as a peer with an organization focused on being of maximum service and with an eye on innovation. 


By Nicole Benoist, CPS, CCAR 29 Mar, 2024
As we conclude Women's History Month, I have been thinking about what being a woman means to me at this stage in life. In just a few weeks, I will (hopefully) enter my fourth year of sobriety, a journey that intersects with another milestone: my 50th birthday in November. Reflecting on the woman I have evolved into, I am at peace. The false sense of all-knowing that once dominated my youth has given way to a welcomed uncertainty. My heart is open to the possibilities that life has yet to unveil—undiscovered people, places, and experiences. The path ahead is a beautiful unknown; I'm meeting it with open arms. My sobriety has been transformative, illuminating the brighter paths in life while diminishing the darker trails. Most importantly, it has taught me that my history does not dictate my destiny. My journey through life has given me invaluable lessons about my limitations and the beauty of accepting them. The jewels of my existence—faith, family, career, a close circle of friends, and self-care—finally have the focus they deserve. Through forgiveness, I have learned to cultivate love and compassion for myself. I have discovered the strength to alter the course of my life through persistence, discipline, and patience. My spiritual connection has deepened in unimaginable ways, offering a new perspective on my relationship with God. The complex challenges of parenthood have revealed themselves as both the most demanding and rewarding endeavors of my life, underscoring the inevitability of imperfection. I've found vulnerability is not a weakness but a conduit to genuine connection, understanding, and profound love. As I navigate through life, the narrative of my personal history continues to unfold, prompting introspection about the legacy I aspire to leave behind. The impact of my place in the world becomes of utmost importance—what does legacy mean to me? This question often guides my advice to my children: "Did you leave that conversation, person, or situation better than you found it?" My ambition is that my legacy will be the sum of positive daily interactions and acts of kindness that collectively contribute to a more compassionate world. This reflection is not just a personal testament but a universal invitation to embrace the unknown with grace, to recognize the transformative power of self-acceptance, and to acknowledge the profound influence of individual actions on the fabric of our shared humanity.
By Ailish Abbate, PRC 22 Mar, 2024
To all the women reading this, it's clear that the mantle of womanhood carries an immense burden. Our surroundings incessantly dictate the essence of being a woman, often presenting a paradox: to embody everything yet simultaneously embody the antithesis. The act of womanhood propels us far from our origins, to the extent of erasing the memory of our childhood streets. It nudges us toward oblivion, making us forget our desires, preferences, and identities. Navigating womanhood correctly seems an unattainable feat, pushing us to seek love, acceptance, and validation externally. I, too, succumbed to these norms of womanhood, adhering to expectations that dictated my body size, compliance, and emotional expression. I was taught that self-prioritization is selfish, that expressing emotions is overly dramatic, and that any display of humanity is frowned upon. I believed that to fit in, I had to diminish myself—altering my appearance, interests, and essence. In a world where self-love is an act of defiance, I desperately sought validation elsewhere. My encounter with drugs and alcohol falsely promised me inclusion into the desired mold of womanhood, allowing me to display the traits I believed were necessary. However, this pursuit led me to a breaking point, bending over backward to conform to an imposed standard. Sobriety became the key to liberating my true self, embarking on a journey back to my roots. It has allowed me to reconstruct the meaning of womanhood, celebrating qualities like compassion, strength, intelligence, bravery, sensitivity, and wisdom. The burdens I once bore have been replaced with profound gratitude for the honor of belonging to the extraordinary collective known as women. In celebration of International Women's Day, let's embrace the diversity and strength inherent in womanhood, forging a path of empowerment and self-discovery.
By Nick Dansby, RCP 23 Feb, 2024
February marks the celebration of Black History Month, a time to recognize the invaluable contributions of African Americans throughout history and today. Beyond the achievements and milestones, it’s imperative to shed light on the intersections of mental health within the black community. First-hand experience has exposed the gaps in access to treatment. Historical adversities like slavery and systemic exclusion from leverage, equity, inclusion and basic human rights have left a lasting impact, manifesting as socio-economic disparities and barriers to mental health treatment today. The Connection Between Black History and Mental Health: While mental health conditions don’t discriminate based on race, the challenges of accessing adequate mental health treatment are more common for people of color, particularly African Americans. Misdiagnosis, limited access to healthcare, and the scarcity of African American mental health professionals contribute to a significant disparity in mental health outcomes. After an unprovoked assault in 2017, I was told by a therapist that I had exhibited symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). However, the follow-up, specialist referral, an official diagnosis and treatment were all lacking. Key Trends: The statistics reveal a harsh reality. African American adults are 20% more likely to experience mental health issues than the rest of the population. Black young people face challenges in accessing mental health services compared to their white counterparts. Only 25% of African Americans seek treatment for mental health issues, in contrast to 40% of Caucasian individuals. Socioeconomic factors further propagate the situation, with those living below the poverty line being three times more likely to report severe psychological distress. The Role of Stigma and Lack of Representation: Misdiagnosis by healthcare professionals, societal stigma, and a shortage of black mental health practitioners contribute to the current plight of access to mental health resources in the black community. The underrepresentation of blacks in mental health professions, as highlighted by the statistics, creates a significant gap in culturally competent care. 6.2% of psychologists, 5.6% of advanced-practice psychiatric nurses, 12.6% of social workers, and 21.3% of psychiatrists are members of underrepresented groups. Remember my therapist who informed me about my PTSD? Well, she was also black. I’ve often wondered if she was equipped to complete a full diagnosis, with recommended treatment. Or did she face barriers in performing her professional duties? Paving the Way for Change: Black History Month serves as a reminder to work continually towards breaking down those barriers for the underrepresented, ensuring equal access to mental health and substance abuse resources. Notable figures like Dr. Solomon Carter Fuller, Dr. Paul Cornely, and Mamie Phipps Clark have paved the way for equitable healthcare, making significant contributions to psychiatry, public health, and psychology, respectively. A Call to Action: As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wisely stated, progress requires relentless forward movement. Beyond February, it is our collective responsibility to advocate for equal access and dismantle the barriers preventing adequate mental health care. By building awareness, supporting initiatives that promote inclusivity, and demanding change at all levels, we can contribute to a society where mental health is prioritized for everyone. And, hopefully, we may all experience a world where all voices of positive self advocacy are welcomed and encouraged. Sources: Excerpts and data used from Discoverymood.com, National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association, and Plymouth Psych Group
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