Former inmate talks about lifesaving recovery

Dec. 4—Stacy Parisella said she owes her life to the Northumberland County Drug Treatment Court team.

Parisella, whose drug problems started when she was a junior in high school, was forging prescription pills to feed her opioid addiction for nearly a decade and found herself in jail twice. While she was enrolled in the drug treatment court from 2012 to 2014, her father got sick and died on Jan. 6, 2014.

"I always said when my dad dies, I'm going to get high. I'm absolutely doing it and no one will stop me. I'm allowed to," said Parisella, of Mount Carmel. "I was very open about it with my counselor, my probation officers. When my dad was getting worse, I was seeing my counselor more often. I built such a great relationship with her that it was easy to talk to her. She helped me through the process and my probation officer was very in tune with what I was struggling with."

Parisella was there the day her father died; she performed CPR and watched first responders use defibrillators in an attempt to revive him. At some point, she called her probation officer, who came to support Parisella. The treatment court team was also there: they sent flowers, sent food, and attended the funeral.

"I was wrapped in their services," she said. "I know it was their time off. I know it was inconvenient for them. I think I would be dead if not for that experience. No matter the terribleness I went through in jail and no matter how horrible it was, my experience with treatment court was the most amazing, supportive, understanding, non-judgmental and empathetic experience I ever had. I don't know how to ever repay that except doing the next right thing, to continue to be the person they showed me how to be."

The National Institute of Drug Abuse reported that 85 percent of the prison population has an active substance use disorder or was incarcerated for a crime involving drugs or drug use. Inmates with opioid use disorder are at a higher risk for overdose following release from incarceration.

About 43 percent of state and 23 percent of federal prisoners had a history of mental health problems. An estimated 27 percent of state and 14 percent of federal prisoners reported being told they had a major depressive disorder, the most common mental disorder reported, according to the U.S. Department of Justice's Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS).

Treatment court

The Northumberland County Drug Treatment Court is one of six treatment courts in Northumberland County. At the common pleas level, Northumberland County under Judge Robert B. Sacavage, established a drug treatment court in 2005, DUI and behavioral health were introduced soon after, veterans court was introduced in 2011 and family court was established in 2018. In 2016, the veteran treatment court was introduced at the magistrate level.

"Before I got sentenced to drug court, that experience in jail was the most dehumanizing experience of my life," said Parisella, who has been clean and sober since Dec. 5, 2011. "I have done and experienced things because of my own choices and addiction and trying to survive that I thought were already dehumanizing, that didn't touch that experience in jail. That had a big impact on me in deciding I can't ever do that again."

The treatment from correctional officers in the former county prison in Sunbury was "awful" and "cruel," said Parisella, who said she was severely depressed. "It's hard for people to understand that you should be treated with dignity and respect even though you are incarcerated. In our society, that's still something that's hard for people to understand or be invested in changing."

Parisella said society often thinks that inmates or former inmates deserve harsh treatment. There's a double stigma there for inmates seeking mental health services, even from the inmates themselves.

"A part of me, a very small part, thought, 'you deserve this with how you've been manipulating people and using people,'" said Parisella about the harsh treatment.

As part of treatment court, Parisella received drug and alcohol counseling services and psychiatric care. She did an intensive outpatient treatment and after-care during her regular application. She requested an extension in the program when her father passed away during drug court.

'Ask for help'

Parisella is now reunited with her three children and happily married. She also has used her past experience as a drug user and former inmate as a substance use disorder counselor for the last eight years.

She works at the New Destiny branch of Gaudenzia, which operates 151 drug and alcohol treatment programs for men and women in Pennsylvania, Maryland and Delaware. Services include specialty programs for pregnant and parenting mothers, adolescents, and people suffering from co-occurring mental illness and substance abuse. She also advocates in Harrisburg for drug and alcohol awareness and funding.

"It's always been a very hard thing for me to ask for help," said Parisella. "I don't know how much of one thing plays a part in that. I think it's a lot of different parts of me that have come to that conclusion. Although I tell people all the time to just ask for help, I know that is easier said than done."

Parisella said she finds it rewarding to work with mothers and to help them address their trauma and reunite with their children.

"I remember being that hopeless feeling," said Parisella. "Who they become by the end of it is a spiritual experience. It's really great to be able to help other women become the best versions of themselves, to believe in them because they don't believe in themselves."

Former offender turns life around

Leon Adrian Harrington, 34, of Sunbury, spent seven years in State Correctional Institute (SCI) Rockview in Bellefonte following a felony drug conviction. After being released in 2014 he faced a mistaken parole violation and was back in county jail waiting for the legal system to hear his case. It was then he decided to turn his life around.

Harrington, who founded a local clothing brand named "Evolution," received his GED. He then enrolled in an online college, where he was able to complete courses in management, and work his way into purchasing three apartment buildings in Sunbury and one in Mount Carmel.

Harrington said he had to take mandatory classes in prison that included mental health aspects but never sought out additional services.

"Prisons are populated majority by Blacks and Hispanics," said Harrington. "One thing not advocated for in our community is mental health. You weren't doing mental health or therapy on the streets. In jail, only the guys in the streets are there. None of the good guys you know are there. All the negative influence people are there. If you weren't doing therapy on the streets, now you're in jail, what do you think these 10 guys that know you from the streets are going to say? 'Oh, jail got you, you gone crazy. You're on meds.'"

'Significant stigma'

Dr. Christopher Fragassi, a physician for inpatient psychiatry at Geisinger, completed his master's thesis at Temple University in Philadelphia on severe mental illness in prisons and moonlights in his off weeks at the state prison in SCI Waymart. He has extensive training in forensic units at state hospitals.

"People with severe mental illness, including schizophrenia, end up back in prison significantly more than those without mental illness in the community," said Fragassi. "They also have the police called on them almost five times as much as those without mental illness in the community, therefore more encounters with police officers and more opportunities to be arrested."

Those with severe mental illness are more likely — four times as much — to be victims of violent crime rather than be perpetrators, said Fragassi.

"There is a significant stigma in the community. People try to hide their symptoms," said Fragassi. "They don't want to engage with mental health providers because they feel they'll be taken advantage of or they won't be taken seriously. This only doubles in the prison system, because there's a certain level of protection that you need to provide for yourself. You need to seem tough and competent and aware at all times. If you're not appearing those things, you will be taken advantage of in the prison system."

Inmates do not want to be seen as weak or someone with a mental illness. They may be targeted, said Fragassi.

To access mental health care, inmates need to reach out to someone else if they want to find help for their issues, he said.

"Right off the bat, the interaction is not the same as what you would have if you wanted to see a therapist," said Fragassi. "You make a phone call and it would be private. Right off the bat, there's another person engaged in the relationship they're trying to form. For security reasons, guards are present when you're meeting with the doctor or the therapist. It's not the same relationship or confidentiality you would experience (outside jail)."

Once released, society makes it difficult to reintegrate back into normal life. Those leaving jail may not have access to positive support systems or community resources, he said.

"The number of programs that help you make transitions from jail into the community is slim at best," said Fragassi. "Your priorities don't tend to be finding a therapist. If you come out of jail with the label of a felon, it is difficult to find employment. Based on the system we have, if you don't have employment, you don't have insurance, and then you don't have health care. It creates a self-perpetuating cycle where you're not getting the help you need. You end up continuously getting in trouble because you're not receiving that help or able to access it."

The way society treats inmates or former inmates needs to change, he said.

"When everyone treats you in a certain way, you begin to think of yourself in a certain way," said Fragassi. "If they say you're not good enough, don't deserve these rights, don't deserve happiness, that's how you're going to think of yourself. Who wouldn't be depressed in that situation?"

Fragassis said people don't get in their own way, but rather the symptoms of the mental health issue get in the person's way.

Barriers to care

The services are there, but inmates with longer sentences may think they have plenty of time to work on themselves, Harrington said.

"If they got one to two years, maybe they won't bother anyhow," said Harrington. "There's always an excuse."

Harrington said it's difficult to reintegrate back into society and find support systems that help. There's a stigma to being a former inmate or on parole.

"It's almost like if you get out of jail, you might as well get a tattoo that says you just come home," he said. "Everything you do in life is now based on the fact that you just came home. If you fill out a job application, you have a big blank for whatever time you have in jail."

Parisella said there are not a lot of providers in the Valley to address mental health problems and substance abuse disorders.

"There's still a very big stigma attached to people with substance abuse disorders, how to treat them effectively, medication-assisted treatment is still stigmatized even among prescribers," she said. "It's hurting people, it's killing people, because of it."