What We Do: Stories
It’s the people we support. They’re awesome. Each one of them is amazing. -- Rachel Malone, CLO Operations Manager
Meet Stacy
Stacy lives her bliss. Talk to her for two minutes; take a look at what she’s wearing; walk into her condo and see the posters adorning every wall—you will know precisely what it is. Her passion permeates her life. Bay, chestnut, thoroughbred, mustang, stallion, mare … she’d rather carry on a conversation with a horse than with a human being any day.
Asked which race horse is her favorite, she responds in phrases that are slow and measured, yet rich with emphatic inflections:
“Date was a race horse …
“I just like every horse. But Date is my favorite horse,
“Date is a wild horse, but he acts like a stallion, but he’s a gelding. He got gelded too late. Sometimes he acts like a stud,
“Have you ever seen stallions with their heads going like that?" (She tosses her head like a horse.) "Well, that’s what Date does,
“And this summer, if Date is a good boy, I’ll be riding him.”
“Date’s going to be an iffy one,” says Danielle, who supports Stacy on weekdays. “He’s a little bit of a feisty horse. So, it’s only going to be if it’s hot enough in the summer and Trina [his owner] can wear him down enough, that you’ll be riding him.”
Stacy continues to name the horses she knows and loves, followed by the names of their corresponding owners or trainers. “Jesse is so big. And Jesse belongs to the trainer Vicki. Vicki is saying that Jesse would pinch his ears back, but he won’t do anything. No action, but talk. He’s a good horse to ride, but I’m just going have to get a chance to ride Date.”
Danielle repeats, “Date’s going to be an iffy one.”
Danielle is rare among the people who support Stacy. She was not a seasoned horsewoman when she and Stacy met. She is learning. “I’m teaching Danielle all different kinds of breeds and about thoroughbreds—all that kind of stuff,” Stacy says. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have a clue, except they have a mane, a tail, and four legs,” Danielle adds.
While Stacy converses, she methodically brushes her long, wavy, brown hair. She has intensely blue eyes. Ninety percent of the time she can be seen wearing jeans, practical Western boots, a T-shirt, and a belt with a large, silver-colored buckle bearing—what else—a relief of a horse.
Meeting Stacy today, seeing her home and how she lives, one would never guess the arduous journey she has made. When she was three years old, Stacy’s mother dropped her off at an institution. Stacy never saw her family again.
Many people, defeated by the rejection and by the hopelessness of institutional life, would have withdrawn completely. But Stacy had an indomitable spirit; her reaction was anger and rebellion. As a result, she was shuttled from facility to facility. She lived in 36 different institutions and group homes and endured psychological and physical abuse from her “care givers.” She stayed at some facilities for a week or less. She wanted desperately to leave the developmental center system, but she had been labeled “incapable of living in the community.” However, a case worker at Kern Regional Center and a clients’ rights attorney at Protection and Advocacy believed in Stacy’s dream enough to approach Creative Living Options about supporting her.
A large roomful of the various professionals who controlled Stacy’s life monitored Stacy’s first meeting with CLO. “Horses were the conversation,” says Kathleen Campbell, CLO Co-CEO. “But when we asked her if she had ever ridden a horse, she said she had never seen one in real life.” In 2002, when Stacy moved out of the developmental center into her own home, she was a frail 90 pounds. She chain smoked. “But Supported Living can truly change someone’s story,” Kathleen says.
Stacy now lives in Auburn near the horse ranches she loves. Thanks to the affordable housing expertise of the CLO staff and a little luck, she owns the condo in which she lives. She takes riding lessons each week and works on a ranch each weekday. “She’s willing to pitch in and muck the stables, do anything. It’s not just the pleasure part she’s interested in. She’s into the whole picture, which I think is pretty cool,” says Donna, who supports Stacy on weekday evenings.
And, although horses are definitely Stacy’s abiding passion, her life is not one-dimensional. She enjoys physical activity, the outdoors and animals in general. With the support of CLO staff, she has caught huge salmon, water skied, kayaked, climbed an indoor rock wall, bowled and been a passenger on a motorcycle. She loves dogs and owns a cat.
Although Stacy’s temper sometimes still flares, an incredibly warm and generous nature has emerged since she gained her freedom. “She’s never met a stranger,” Kathleen says. Stacy’s generosity has compelled her—as far as she is able—to advocate for others who live in oppressive group settings so they can have the same opportunities as she.
The first of her two experiences with public speaking was at the Sonoma State Developmental Center in 2003. She and Kathleen gave a presentation about Supported Living. Stacy was slated to speak about her life with CLO. “When she first stepped up to the podium and saw the audience, she froze,” Kathleen says. “You could cut the tension with a knife as she stared back at them. I was wondering if she was going to talk at all. Then, she pulled out her Safeway card and walked down each aisle, so everyone could see it. ‘This is my card,’ she said. ‘I can go to the grocery whenever I want to and buy whatever I want. Nobody can take it away from me.’ There was not a dry eye in the house.”
Stacy’s second speaking engagement—at the Porterville Developmental Center where she once lived—was daunting. “In the hotel room the day of the meeting, she almost backed out,” Kathleen says. Not only did Stacy have to overcome the fear of speaking before a large audience, these were the very people who had oppressed and abused her. “I told her that it was OK if she didn’t want to speak. But I asked if she still wanted to help other people get out of the developmental center like she had,” Kathleen says. Stacy paused to consider, and finally she decided to go ahead.
“When she stood in the room at Porterville and looked into the faces of all of those people she had feared, she almost backed down. She stood there silently. Once again, I wondered if she was ever going to speak. All of a sudden she shouted, ‘Porterville sucks!’ It brought the house down,” Kathleen continues.
During the course of a half-day visit with Stacy, she doesn’t mention her past life. She focuses on her favorite subject: “Race horses wear those wrappings on their legs for protection. When they run, the back legs will hit the front. So they’re for protection …
“You have to show a horse who’s the boss. If you don’t, then the horses will take advantage of you and they’ll take over. If they take advantage of you, that’s when you get hurt …
“Now, Samantha’s got me back on English [riding style] to get my balance back, because I’ve been cooped up on Western too much, and that’s how I lost my balance …
“Patrick is an Arabian, but he’s out of shape. But when he sees other horses out on the trail, he likes to run with them. That’s what he’s made for, because he’s an Arabian, and that’s what he’s made for, to run,” she says.
Supported Living through CLO empowers Stacy to make choices. She chooses to live in the present, relegating her painful memories to the past. She chooses to keep a firm grasp on her dreams—of someday owning a horse, a stable, and a few acres of pasture. She chooses to care deeply about all living creatures (people included). “Who can aspire to a healthier outlook than that?” Kathleen asks. 
