My Story.

My name is Alecia Kipping, and I have struggled with mental illness throughout my life. Despite this, and often myself, I have managed to accomplish some pretty amazing things, both academically and professionally. This is my story.

As a young child with undiagnosed ADHD and C-PTSD, I struggled heavily to learn and behave like most of my peers. I abhorred academics and never believed I was intelligent or capable enough for higher education. After high school, I reluctantly sought a bachelor's degree for one reason, and one reason only: to become a military officer and fly Apache helicopters. With backing from the Army Reserve Officer Training Core (ROTC), I was admitted into the University of South Florida (USF), where I began the 4-year training program to become a U.S. military officer, enrolling in the only program that even remotely piqued my interest - the Bachelor of Arts degree (BA) in Anthropology. Since the Army did not care what field my degree was in, and my life's dream was to be a military pilot, my academic performance took a backseat to virtually every other obligation in my life (and there were many). Imagine my dismay when, in my senior year of college, after completing 3 years of the Army ROTC program, I was informed that I had been medically disqualified from military service and was no longer eligible to become a pilot. Three years deep into earning a degree that I never wanted, in a field I had no intention of working in, all of my future hopes and dreams had been decimated in an instant. With the temptation of dropping out ever looming, my only options were to sink or swim in my current academic endeavors. Thankfully, I chose to swim.

From kindergarten all the way to my senior year of undergrad, I reluctantly scraped by the skin of my teeth academically. By the time I suspected I had a learning disorder, I had already committed to joining the military and worried a diagnosis would medically disqualify me. Once I was disqualified for different reasons, it was game on. You can see in my college transcripts the moment I was diagnosed with ADHD. My grades went from C's, D's, F's, and Incompletes to A's, A-'s, and the infrequent B if I really struggled. It took 3 full semesters of maxed-out credit hours to finally catch up and fulfill the requirements for my degree, but that was not enough to undo all of the damage in my academic history. However, after a year and a half of my highest academic performance until that time, I proudly graduated from USF with a BA in Anthropology, a GPA of 2.69, and a newfound confidence in myself, not only as an intellectual but also as an academic. Ironically, the field I had chosen to join the military taught me about societal structures and systems that warped my entire perception of the world and the values and beliefs I held in it. My life's goal transformed from being an instrument of war into becoming an instrument of change. 

My journey to graduate school is as long and winding as the one that brought me to it. It is wrought with uncertainty, failures, trials, and errors. Most of all, though, it was contrived by tenacity (and, dare I say, the audacity). It took a lot of hard work to supplement the low GPA, academic absenteeism, and lack of relevant field experience that barred me from being a competitive graduate school applicant. However, after 2 years of putting in long hours and dedicated effort, not only was I accepted into graduate school, but I was admitted into the graduate program of my dreams. I was invited into New York University's Master of Social Work (MSW) program, where I had opportunities to pilot several global social work programs, studying on 4 separate continents and working in 3 different countries while earning my degree. During this time, I discovered my penchant and passion for social policy and justice. Learning how maliciously social policies and systems could oppress whole populations and seeing first-hand how deeply influential political structures and government systems are in our everyday lives, I knew I couldn't be complacent in the broken systems explicitly designed to prevent my communities from thriving. It was here that I dedicated my professional endeavors to macro-level systems change and decided to pursue a career in government and social policy. It was also during this time that I began my most pervasive struggles with mental illness, exacerbating my C-PTSD, anxiety, and substance use disorders and reigning in the development of the type 2 Bipolar Disorder I continue to live with today.

It's been nearly 8 years since earning my MSW, and I've kept true to the dedication of my work. As an advocate for health equity, I have taken on many different roles and worked in some of the largest and most well-regarded health departments in the United States. I spent 4 and a half years with the New York City (NYC) Department of Health and Mental Hygiene as a Community Coordinator, training more than 10,000 NYC residents on various topics, ranging from Mental Health First Aid to COVID-19 and health disparities and covering emergency field operations that ranged from crisis intervention response to pandemic supply disbursement and vaccine justice outreach. I was also an Equity Champion for my division and worked with our Division Action Team to create an internal strategic action plan that would eliminate inequities in agency operations. Currently, as a Regional Minority Health Coordinator for the Florida Department of Health's Office of Minority Health, I help oversee the Minority Health Plans in Palm Beach County, Broward County, Miami-Dade County, and Monroe County. In this role, I consult county health departments to assist them in building community partnerships, conducting community assessments, and developing/implementing Minority Health Plans to address the social inequities driving health disparities. I am also in the process of launching my own company, Depressingly Successful, which is a mental health platform that promotes education, resource connection, community engagement, and local fundraising through art. 

Achieving all of this with psychiatric disabilities (most of which went un-/mis-diagnosed for years) was its own special kind of Hell. All of the confidence I had gained as a learner/student in graduate school was equally matched by all of the doubt that grew in me as a professional. I could do amazing things in my internships and later professional work; I could identify deficiencies in systems that others overlooked, find solutions to problems no one else could seem to solve, and devise strategic improvement plans that intimidated even the most executive of leadership. However, when it came to the traditional expectations of professionalism - timeliness, attendance, manicured dress, and adherence to organizational policies (no matter how stupid) - I was, am, and always have been, trash. It took incredibly hard work to get to where I am, but it would never have been enough without the support of the incredible peers, colleagues, and supervisors I was lucky enough to have on my team along the way. It was thanks to them and the legal protections afforded by the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) that I have been able to sustain and flourish in my career as a public health professional.

If there is anything positive to be said about the COVID-19 pandemic, it is what a game-changer it has been for many working-class professionals, especially those of us living with disabilities. By normalizing remote work and encouraging alternative professional structures, the pandemic showed us proof that many of the antiquated policies that were traditionally held to employees were not only unnecessary but, in many cases, downright counterproductive. Prior to the pandemic, I struggled to adhere to a traditional 9-5 office schedule, 5 days a week. In 2018, I was forced to apply for FMLA to avoid being reprimanded for all of the work time I was missing. While this did protect me from termination, I lost nearly $20,000 in wages due to having to miss so much work. In 2019, I applied for ADA reasonable accommodations and was granted a flexible schedule that allowed me to come in any time between 8 am and 11 am, instead of a strict 9 am deadline. While this significantly improved my attendance, going into an office every day was still a struggle for me, and every bit of paid vacation time or sick leave went toward missed work. We went remote in March of 2020, and I'll never go back. Now, every professional role I even consider taking requires either work-from-home or flex time options, and I will always be open and vocal about my working style and mental health needs. I know I have too much to offer to be held back in positions that can't suit my professional style, and I will always advocate for structures and position myself in roles that will allow me to perform at my best. 

While I love my work and everything that I've done, I feel like I still have much more to do, both academically and professionally. I have had many novel experiences that have shaped me into a uniquely qualified individual, but I still have much to learn in order to have the impact I desire. Whether my next steps include advancing in government, obtaining a doctoral degree, or something different entirely, only time will tell. What I can say is that I am no longer willing to underestimate myself or what I am capable of achieving. Absolutely nothing is off the table.