From Self-Harm to Self-Worth
Casey’s life consisted mostly of mental health wards for seven years prior to her ending up at Destiny Haven.
“The year before Destiny, I began cutting so deep I required surgeries to repair the damage I had done,” Casey shares. “I had doctors tell me if I didn’t stop self-harming I was going to lose my right arm. The skin was so damaged from the thousands of stitches I had received that it was beginning to become extremely difficult for the doctors to get sutures through, they became concerned the skin would die and no longer heal. I honestly couldn’t have cared at that point. I responded to them and said, ‘I don’t care, you can take my arm now. I won’t need it when I’m dead.’ I was so sure that I wasn’t going to survive. I was determined to end my life and be done with it. I didn’t want life, it was too hard and I just couldn’t seem to get it ‘right’.”
In 2017, Casey was staying on her parents’ farm in Dorrigo when she reached rock bottom. She had recently been discharged from a third surgery to repair tendons in her arm.
“I told God that I couldn’t do this life anymore,” Casey says. “I told Him my plans to end my life—how I was going to do it, where, when, everything and said I would follow through unless something changed. I then couldn’t shake the feeling I needed to go to a church called Lifehouse in Coffs Harbour.”
At that point Casey barely spoke to anyone, so she sent a text message to her mum—who was in another room in the house—asking her to take her to this particular church. While there, Casey was introduced to one of the pastors, who asked what she had done to her arm that was in a cast.
“I am not one to beat around the bush,” Casey says, “So I told her I cut it with a scalpel.”
The pastor told Casey about a place called Destiny Haven that her friends operated. Casey listened politely, but she had no intention of doing anything about it. By this point she had already experienced hundreds of admissions to mental health facilities, both voluntary and involuntary, and had received 12 rounds of electric shock therapy.
“However, curiosity got the better of me and I Googled it that evening,” Casey explains. “I read every single word available on the website on every single page. I then printed an application and completed it. It took me many hours as I was writing left-handed due to the cast (I’m normally right-handed).”
Initially, Casey’s application for Destiny Haven was rejected because she was deemed ‘too difficult.’
“I couldn’t blame them, because on paper I looked terrible,” Casey admits.
But Casey was deeply disappointed. She ended up at the Dorrigo hospital, where she shared with the doctor on call about being rejected by Destiny Haven. It turned out that this particular GP had been the doctor for Destiny Haven when it first opened.
“He told me he would call Janine and talk to her,” Casey says. “Following a phone interview with Janine, I was accepted into Destiny Haven under strict instructions that if I did anything that hinted toward self-harm I would be discharged and I wouldn’t be given any second chances.”
Casey agreed.
“It was an extremely hard journey,” Casey shares. “I struggled with many aspects, especially living in a community with people 24/7. I think for me the fact Destiny Haven is a working program really helped. I like to be busy, and so having different jobs throughout the day was really helpful. Also learning to recognise and process feelings helped.”
Fast forward six years—Casey has come so far that she now works full-time at Destiny Haven.
“I head up the chocolate kitchen, I oversee the marketing of the Diamond Collection, I do the accounts for Destiny, I am Janine’s second, I run groups with the women in the program, I do case management with some of the women in the program, amongst many other things,” Casey explains. “Faith has been a massive part of my journey. Learning God’s truth for what it really is and developing a personal deep relationship with God. I have learnt that I am valued and I am not a failure at life.”
