Giving Back: From Peer Group Participant to Certified Peer Support Specialist

by Marilyn Janson

Listen to Executive Director Gabriel Nathan read this post aloud:

Isolated, lonely, and fearful during COVID, I yearned for my in-person, mental health group meetings.

Besides COVID, SARS, and all the pandemic’s variations, I am terrified of cancer, the flu, rabies, any and all diseases. During the pandemic, my OCD, anxiety, depression, and PTSD escalated from the refusal of Phoenix residents to wear masks and get the lifesaving vaccines.

Gloved and masked, I struggled to navigate food shopping, picking up medicine at the pharmacy, and cancer screenings.

At the store, I dashed through the aisles to avoid people without masks. I listened for coughs, sneezes, and if I heard one, I would run to another section of the store. I grabbed granola bars, packaged turkey and fruit, tortilla shells, bottled water, bottles of Lysol, and dozens of containers of wipes drenched in alcohol to clean the food and packages when I got home.

Since Mom died of ovarian cancer, I wanted to be careful. I did not allow COVID to stop me from getting my mammograms, sonograms, ultrasounds, and colonoscopies, unlike other people.

As mortality rates escalated, so did my OCD. I needed help.

Before COVID, I attended in-person meetings. I missed the one-on-one contact with others who understood my struggles with anxiety and depression.

On Meet-Up, I found DBSA (Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance, California), EBOCD (East Bay, California OCD), and NAMI (National Alliance of Mental Health) peer support groups. Via Zoom meetings, I shared my traumas, triggers, triumphs, and coping skills.

DBSA peer support facilitators are trained to share their experiences and coping skills to the group participants. The facilitators offered a safe place for me to talk about my mental health without judgment or shame. Like a dam bursting open, I could let go of the frustration of being isolated without anyone who understood OCD, depression, panic attacks, anxiety, my reaction to triggers, and the fears navigating life in the outside world.

With the COVID spikes in the summer, fall, and winter, I am not ready to attend in-person meetings until I get my updated COVID, flu, and pneumonia vaccines. So years later, I still attend these meetings on Zoom. I gather strength and courage from my peers. They offer encouragement and share their experiences with therapists, depression, OCD, mental health apps, treatments, and celebrate their progress with small steps toward recovery.

After 34 years of living with OCD, my peers consider me a success story. Lonely growing up, I hid my excessive handwashing until my skin bled, the endless counting in my head, and hiding my failed exams from Mom and Dad. After parent-teacher conferences, I was on the receiving end of verbal abuse. My OCD became unbearable and escalated.

But these days, my experience is far different. Although I use hand sanitizer and avoid touching doorknobs, I do not wash my hands until they bleed anymore.

I may be a perfectionist, but now I’m good to myself when I make a mistake. Instead of insulting myself with a barrage of unkind words, I say, “so I made a mistake. Get on-with it!”

I wanted to share my learned coping skills with others. My lived experiences could help peers work toward better mental and physical health.

So, in October 2023, I applied to DBSA’s peer support specialist certification program. Upon acceptance, I completed their four-week professional development course, five hours of remote learning, and 40 hours of online work.

The instructional Zoom sessions were intense. I practiced using “I” language to tell the participants about my story instead of giving advice. Referring group members who expressed suicidal ideation to Warm Lines (crisis phone numbers), how to listen intently, avoid cutting off shares during the open discussion, muting, and removing participants who do not follow our code of conduct.

After passing the exam, I earned my DBSA Peer Specialist and Adult Mental Health First Aid USA Certificates. I started by running meetings with a co-facilitator named Sean.

At the beginning of the meetings, Sean and I introduce ourselves, reveal our diagnoses, and tell the group how we are feeling according to the DBSA Mood State Pyramid (zero being depression and ten being mania), and choose topics for open-forum discussions.

Popular subjects include navigating the mental health care system, social anxiety, loneliness, changing therapists, and managing symptoms. Participants may share their experiences with exposure and cognitive therapy, alternative therapies, and their successes and challenges with one-on-one, group, and family therapy.

Before we begin sharing, Sean shares his screen and posts the group’s rules.

We ask for volunteers to read them.

1. Instead of telling each other how to solve their problems, we use the “I” point of view to share our lived experiences.
2. Peers are not compelled to share or appear on camera.
3. Differences of opinion are okay.
4. No side conversations, crosstalk, or monopolizing the meeting.
5. Confidentiality: Do not discuss what was said in our meetings to friends, relatives, or other people. We want these sessions to be a safe place to share.
6. One person speaks at a time.
7. We do not discriminate based on gender, race, culture, language, dissimilarities, and promote acceptance.

I ask peers to notify us if they want to discuss subjects upsetting or triggering to other participants (rape, suicidal ideation, cancer, etc.). Peers may turn off their audio during this share.

Then, Sean shares his screen and we talk a bit more about the DBSA Mood State Pyramid.

The pyramid is a vital tool for me. If a participant says they are on the low end (suicidal ideation, severely depressed, experiencing a manic or depressive bipolar phase) I want to make sure they get support.

In those situations, I will ask if they have a trusted family member or friends to share their feelings. We are at a disadvantage since we meet online instead of in-person. Still, we try to get participants the help they need. I will screenshare crisis center phone numbers that do not call law enforcement. Police are not often trained to handle mental health crises in a safe manner.

Since the meetings run for one and a half hours, latecomers and newcomers are welcome to come and go as they please.

When there is a break or silence during discussions, we have a list of go-to topics to explore, such as self-care, handling triggers, the benefits of journaling, and goal-setting.

Recently, I shared my life experiences regarding “boundaries” with my group to illustrate how they may set them in their own lives.

Driving is one of my triggers. Cars whiz around me, cut me off, and honk, intimidating me to accelerate and speed. Frazzled, I pull to the side of the road, take a time out, take deep breaths, and exhale.

Recently, my husband Ed believed he was having a stroke–something he’s experienced in the past–so I drove him to the ER at 9 am.

After five hours, I was ready to go home.

“You’re leaving already?” he said.

“I’m exhausted,” I said. DBSA’s self-care model reminded me to get enough rest.

I drove home. Too stressed and wired, I rested on the couch. At 8 pm, Ed called and asked me to pick him up from the hospital.

I had to say, “No.”

“You won’t pick me up?” he said.

Feeling guilty, memories of the last time I drove him to the ER at 3 am seared my brain. Poorly lit, desolate streets, fear of my car breaking down, cops pulling me over, and getting lost, my body curled into a tight coil.

This time, I knew better.

Family and work obligations can infringe on the time we need to rest, eat healthy, and have fun.

Saying “no” to family and friends is always an option if they are not in crisis, need medical or mental health services.

I explain to the group that our recovery model is based on taking steps toward healing the mind, body, and spirit. Expressing feelings, eating healthy, exercising, setting goals, growth, and a positive attitude are hallmarks for change. I talk about how I may not have served in the military, been diagnosed with bipolar, personality disorders, schizophrenia, or substance addictions, yet I am trained to provide support to all participants regardless of trauma.

Often participants ask questions about changing medications. I can share the side effects from my physician-prescribed medications and encourage others to see their doctor if their dosages need adjusting or to be changed.

Once a month, DBSA arranges a “Facilitator Round Table” meeting to share our successes, concerns, participant interactions, and technical issues using this platform.

After co-facilitating with another leader for a few months, I started running the room alone. Changing from a participant to a peer specialist meant I had to shift my perspective into more of a teacher-mode. Instead of focusing on my needs, I listen carefully to each participant, share coping skills based on my lived experience, and ask the peers to offer support to one another.

I take my facilitator role very seriously. The participants are depending on me to help them to feel a little better for attending my meetings. I feel responsible if this does not happen.

Managing meetings is stressful. Listening carefully to each person’s concerns and difficulties with mental health, making sure the quiet ones are not forgotten, and managing the two-hour meetings takes mental and physical energy.

One year and six months later, I still get exhausted until the next day.

Before each meeting, I practice self-care. Like preparing for a marathon, I flex and stretch my arms, legs, neck, ankles, wrists, and spine. Resting my eyes prior to staring at the computer screen is necessary. I listen to soothing music or an audio book.

As the stifling summer 100-plus degree temperatures begin to fall, I spend time at a small craft airport. In the visitor’s area I sit outside on the comfortable wooden chairs to watch the planes take off and land. I bring my lunch and write thoughts in a journal. For my own mental health, I attend OCD mental health support meetings on Saturdays.

If I did not engage in these self-care activities, my depression, anxiety, and OCD would prevent me from enjoying life, work, and friendships. Besides being a caregiver to Ed, I own a small business, I am an educator, and I write non-fiction articles for publications as well as children’s books. Just recently, I facilitated and guided DBSA group participants in a new, “Beginners Creative Writing Zoom Group” for mental health.

In 2025, I earned two more peer support specialist certifications from NAMI Arizona and GPS (Group Peer Support). I am eligible to present NAMI’s “Ending the Silence,” an interactive discussion designed to dispel myths regarding mental health care and offer support. My peer support certifications have taught me how to be patient, develop coping skills, engage in positive self-talk, and practice self-care. And how to teach others about these skills.

Looking toward the future, I am actively looking to work as a Peer Support Specialist out in the field.

​EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR: Gabriel Nathan | EDITOR: Evan Bowen-Gaddy | DESIGN: Leah Alexandra Goldstein | SITE ORIGINATOR: Bud Clayman