Tag: depression

Faith Journey

Speak Up and Fill the Silence

Brandi C

Speak Up and Fill the Silence

Speak Up and Fill the Silence

 

Speak Up and Fill the Silence is a phrase that I just heard on a television show and it has resonated with me. As I sit here, knowing how silent I have been on my blog, in my workplace, at church, and everywhere else, this phrase hit hard.

Silence, to some, is a sign of weakness. Silence to Jesus is different. In Psalm 62:5 it reads “For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him.” My husband told me, not to long ago, that we have “changed roles” within our marriage. Typically, I am the brazen one and he is the one that stands in the background.

I educated him that day. I simply stated “just because this volcano is dormant and not exploding, all the time, doesn’t mean I’m not rumbling underneath the earth ready to erupt at any moment.” It’s pretty simple, I have just been asleep for the last few years.

However, I’m beginning to wake up. When I look around, instead of seeing black and white, I see glimpses of color. I’m coming back to myself and I am starting to rumble. There are moments when my old self comes forward and other moments when I slip back into slumber.

I was talking to my sister the other day…we would try and talk on Mondays but since I started work, we don’t do that as often. I feel as if we have lost a bit of our connection. There has been so much going on in my world (and hers) that we are keeping our eyes above the waves. We touch base when we have a moment.

When we were chatting and talking about the hard things of life, I quietly told her something I have been thinking on for quite some time. Quietly, I said “I’m thinking about getting a cat and naming it Lucretia.” She bust out laughing and said “my sister is coming back.” We are filling the silence with laughter instead of pain and awkward silence.

So much silence. Silence with the trauma that my family went through for the last 7 years, 4 years, 2 years, and last year. I’ve lost friendships because I’ve been silent and my silence was mistaken for anger. In reality, I’m trying to just continue to inhale in and out. I’ve lost myself, I almost lost my marriage, my sanity, and more.

The other day, at work, I told my boss something that I’ve been hinting around about for a while now. I told her that I was going to get my hair done. She is all about self-care. I then stated that I was going to get some purple in my hair, but it would be underneath and the top layer would cover it. She just looked at me (I can see the rule book going through her head and it states no unnatural hair color). Before she had a chance to speak, I said “listen, I’m losing myself and if you don’t let me be me, I won’t make it.” She smiled and said it sounded great and I should also think about a nose ring (that’d be a no).

I immediately texted my hair-apist and let her know. Then, I’m scheduling my tattoo. I also bought some clothes and sparkly shoes. I’m remembering who I am and what I like. That is usually vastly different than what other people like, but I’m okay with that.

Today, I spoke up, at work. Something was said and I was taking it personally. I was able to look someone in the face and defend my morals and ethics of my job. I did so with respect and clarity. In the past, I would just let this person walk all over me until I realized that I’m not a doormat. I’m an equal and we want the same things in life (work related). We are on the same team. We can either spend our time fighting each other or fighting together.

I don’t know how long it will take me to completely wake up and fill the silence with my words, but I do know that it is slowly happening. I need to take one day at a time or even better, one moment at a time. There are things I’m still figuring out and some areas that are still gray for me because I’m not sure where to step.

My silence has been leading my severe depression for the last 5 years or so. I’m still not out of the woods yet but I’m beginning to hear sounds, see flashes of color, and in the distance what my future holds. I’m about ready to stand up and stand tall and speak.

As I tell my children, grandchildren, and clients “You are strong, brave, kind, and good. Your past does not define you and it does not control your present or your future. Straighten you crown, stand up tall, be heard, and let that storm know that you are no longer afraid because you ARE the storm.”

People. I am the storm. It’s time for me to be heard and to just fill the damn silence.

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Breathing in Hope as I Navigate Rough Waters

Brandi C

Breathing in Hope as I Navigate Rough Waters

Breathing in Hope as I Navigate Rough Waters

The past few years have been filled with so many challenges that it’s difficult to even begin to describe everything I’ve been through. I was talking with my therapist recently, and she often asks me, “What would you tell your client?” For me, answering that is easy:

  • Beauty is always in the ashes.

  • You are worthy.

  • This too shall pass (like a kidney stone).

  • You are enough.

  • The trauma that you have stored in your TNT box needs to be talked about and processed in order for you to heal. Then, it will just be a crappy memory that doesn’t trigger strong emotions like depression or anxiety.

She often asks me why I don’t listen to my own advice.

Trauma

Trauma is a word I don’t use lightly. In therapy, we talk about little ‘t’ trauma and big ‘T’ trauma, but honestly, it all hurts. Without the tools to process what’s happened, you’re left struggling with depression (where you can’t control the past) or anxiety (where you can’t control the future). In either case, you can’t live fully in the present.

Today, my supervisor asked me to think about a triangle: your thoughts dictate your emotions, which in turn affect your behavior.

For me, what I’ve been through doesn’t feel like trauma. I hear trauma stories all day, and they break my heart. There are days when all I want to do is rock a client and bake them cookies, letting them know they’re seen, heard, validated, and loved. But when I told my therapist I didn’t think trauma was part of my story, she laughed at me. “These are just things that have happened,” I said. “Do I deal with them well? No.”

This Last Round of Gross

This season has tipped me to the edge of my sanity. I’ve dealt with severe depression, moderate depression, anxiety, or a combination of both, but this time it’s been mostly depression. One hit after another—some significant, some minor, and others so tiny they’re the straw that broke the camel’s back.

During this season, I’ve been quiet. I deleted my social media, removed numbers from my phone, screened calls, and withdrew into myself. I never meant to isolate, but I’m so depressed that I don’t want to “infect” anyone else with my heaviness.

Life Keeps Moving

I still do all the things—work, cook, clean, be a grandparent, manage the home, etc. It all gets done. My sister left me a voicemail recently, saying she’d been asking my mom about me and giving me space, but now enough was enough. She told me to call, text, or answer the phone at least twice a week, and that we weren’t going to talk about my hurt unless I wanted to. We were just going to touch base.

In my sadness, I didn’t even realize people noticed. My daughter made some comments about my silence, but I didn’t fully understand what she meant because I rarely go a day without talking to her. A friend at church apologized for not reaching out. I told her I was fine (lie), but she said, “I know how you get when you go quiet.”

Those Statements Made Me Realize

Though I feel alone, I’ve been reminded that there are people who love me and would listen if I called to cry or vent. I just don’t want to impose or make people feel like they have to fix what’s going on in my world. No one can fix it. What’s broken is beyond repair. But their love and support give me hope. Hope that one day, things will be okay. Hope that I am loved and not alone. I have hope that there is a tomorrow. Hope that I have people who are willing to hold me up when I can’t stand on my own.

Hope is a powerful thing. Today, I am hopeful. Yesterday, I was not, and tomorrow is still a mystery. Mentally and emotionally, I am still not okay. There’s a lot on my heart and mind. Decisions need to be made, conversations need to happen, and the things troubling me are still there.

But here I am, still breathing and holding onto hope. Understanding that trauma is different for everyone, but it does not have to dictate my life. It’s simply a crimson thread woven throughout my tapestry. We all carry some trauma, but when processed properly, it can just be a blip on the radar—not a tsunami of epic proportions.

988

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Faith Journey, Quotes

Let Them by Cassie Phillips

Brandi C

Let Them by Cassie Phillips

Let Them by Cassie Phillips

Let Them by Cassie Phillips is a poem I read on social media. I first read it during a chaotic season in my life. Let’s be real—most days feel chaotic. I had just realized that some “friends” weren’t truly friends and that people can’t always be trusted. I already struggled with trust, but this became the last straw. People judge quickly without knowing all the details.

The truth is, unless someone shares your bed or eats every meal at your table, they don’t need to know the details. Frankly, it’s none of their business. I choose to make it their business, and by doing so, things get misunderstood.

Just Let Them

If they want to choose something over you, LET THEM.

If they want to go weeks without talking to you, LET THEM.

If they are okay with never seeing you, LET THEM.

If they are okay with always putting themselves first, LET THEM.

If they are showing you who they are and not what you perceived them to be, LET THEM.

If they want to follow the crowd, LET THEM.

If they want to judge or misunderstand you, LET THEM.

If they act like they can live without you, LET THEM.

If they want to walk out of  your life and leave, hold the door open, AND LET THEM.

Let them lose you. You were never theirs, because you were always your own.

So let them.

Let them show you who they truly are, not tell you.

Let them prove how worthy they are of your time.

Let them earn your forgiveness.

Let them call you to talk about ordinary things.

Let them take you out on a Thursday.

Let them talk about anything and everything just because it’s you they are talking to.

Let them have a safe place in you.

Let them see the heart in you that didn’t harden.

Let them love you.

Author: Cassie Phillips

Thoughts

Geez, this strikes me on so many levels. It may not impact everyone the same way, and that’s okay. It reminds me of Welcome to Holland by Emily Perl Kingsley. So much has happened over the last several years. Some have revealed their true colors, while others have stepped up with unwavering love and support. I pulled back, reflecting inward to see where I need to make changes. Slowly, I’m finding my way back to the surface, letting the Light shine on my face.

Remember, you can’t control the actions or thoughts of others. The only thing you can control is your reaction. Anxiety comes from fearing the future and the lack of control over it. Depression lingers in the sadness of what you can’t change from the past. Live in the present—moment by moment. Breathe in, breathe out. Your goal is to change the life of one person. What if that one person is you?

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Let’s Talk Hair Loss in Women

Brandi C

Let’s Talk Hair Loss in Women

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Let’s Talk Hair Loss in Women

Hair loss in women can be devastating. Let me rephrase that—hair loss in women IS devastating. No matter who you are or how confident you are in your own skin, it is a hard reality. Can people adjust, accept, and learn to love themselves through it? Yes, they can! But for me, that hasn’t been the case. My hair loss stems from Psoriasis, which has led to Psoriatic Arthritis.

What I didn’t fully realize was how bad it had gotten until I saw pictures of myself. My husband tried to sugarcoat it, saying, “It’s not that bad.” But let me tell you, it was that bad. And sometimes it still is. The real wake-up call came when I showed my mom, and her gasp confirmed how bad things had gotten. She wasn’t trying to be unkind—she was just shocked because I’d been hiding it so well.

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Stigma About Hair Loss in Women

The stigma around hair loss in women is huge. People often say, “Just get a wig,” but getting a good-quality wig is expensive. And at the end of the day, every woman just wants a head full of beautiful hair. My therapist suggested I try extensions, which would cost around $3,000 a year. As much as I’d love that, I don’t have the money—or the hair to attach the extensions to.

I did try a halo-style wig, but that didn’t work well either. If you don’t have enough hair to hide the band around it, the wig just doesn’t look natural. I tried Rogaine for women, but it was a waste of time and money. For a while, I avoided washing my hair until my hairstylist told me I had to wash my scalp at least once a week to help with natural oils. I wouldn’t even comb my hair for fear of it falling out in clumps.

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Rallying the Troops

The depression hit rock bottom when I could no longer hide it. In a truly loving way, my hairstylist encouraged me to keep going. “It will grow back. We’ll find you a really good wig. You’re beautiful.” Her encouragement was a lifeline. My sisters and my mom rallied together, and we made plans for a day trip to meet one of my sisters in Tennessee.

We’d done something similar before, just to spend time together, but this time had a different purpose: wig shopping. My sister found a place called Top This Wigs in Murfreesboro, TN. The store is private and appointment-only, which was exactly what I needed. The owner of the store, a woman whose husband had cancer, turned the business into a mission to help others.

When we arrived, my family dove into looking for wigs, and I stood there, overwhelmed with shame and sadness. They picked out a few for me to try on, and when I sat in the chair and looked at myself in the mirror, I broke down in tears. Surrounded by my Oak and sisters, they cried with me, prayed with me, and comforted me.

Eventually, I found one I liked, a “work” wig since my usual blonde hair with purple and pink highlights wouldn’t work for professional settings. But my sister and my Oak chipped in to pay for it, and the store owner gifted me the one I really wanted: a gorgeous purple wig that made me feel alive again. We all cried—again.

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Learning to Love Wigs

I still struggle with the change, but I’ve learned some things along the way. I bought wig grips to help keep them in place and followed tips from Chiquel on how to style them and care for them. They offer a lot of helpful videos on TikTok, YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram that helped me feel more confident in wearing them.

The purple wig has earned me lots of compliments, and my “work” wig was so well-made that no one knew it wasn’t my real hair. During the summer, I wear ponytails a lot because wigs get hot, and let’s face it—hot weather plus menopause equals a cranky woman! My hair is slowly starting to grow back, but I know I have my wigs as a backup when needed. My kids still get scared when they walk into the bathroom and see the wigs on their holders!

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Words of Wisdom

In the end, the love and support of my family have been crucial in helping me get through this difficult time. It may sound vain, but losing your hair can be deeply sad, and it’s okay to feel that way. Men lose their hair and often look distinguished; women lose their hair and are seen as haggard. I don’t like feeling that way, but my feelings are valid, and I’m allowing myself to work through them.

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Your hair doesn’t define you, but you are allowed to feel sadness and not be shamed for those feelings. People who haven’t experienced hair loss may offer well-meaning advice, but the truth is, they don’t understand what it’s really like. Sometimes, you just need to cry, grieve, and not feel guilty for being sad about something you can’t control.

Know that you are still beautiful, with or without hair, eyebrows, or eyelashes. Allow others to love you even when you don’t feel like it. My family has been my village, and I hope that everyone reading this has at least one person in their village to provide love and support through tough times.

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My Story of Psoriasis and Psoriatic Arthritis

Brandi C

My Story of Psoriasis and Psoriatic Arthritis

My Story of Psoriasis and Psoriatic Arthritis

When I was 14 years old, my grandpa passed away. He was the first person I was close to who died, and it shook me to my core. My body reacted in strange ways, probably from the stress of it all. I became extremely sick physically, and I developed these weird patches on my shins. They didn’t itch, but they were raised and covered about 95% of my lower legs. I could shave my legs, and the bumps would temporarily flatten, but they would raise back up almost immediately.

Then, my hair started falling out in clumps. I had “knots” on my scalp, and chunks of hair would come out. My eyebrows and eyelashes fell out, too. My hair was bald at my temples and the itching on my scalp was unbearable. It felt like I had knots the size of peas or sometimes even lima beans. I could run my fingernail through the knot and still not feel it on my scalp.

That became my new normal. Over time, my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes grew back. However, my legs remained scaly. Sometimes, my scalp would flare up and the patches on my body would get worse, but I learned to just deal with it. My hair became so thick that I would get headaches when I put it in a ponytail.

Over the Years

Eventually, my legs cleared up, and I didn’t have any patches on my shins anymore. Occasionally, small spots would pop up here and there, but nothing major. My scalp no longer itched as badly, but I still had excessive dandruff. My hair began to thin, but I thought it was due to postpartum hair loss that never came back.

Instead of staying on my shins, the raised patches started appearing on my arms, upper thighs, and even my face and eyelids. I was confused because no one would tell me what it was. There were many times I visited my doctor and asked for help. Once, as an adult, I went to a dermatologist, but since I didn’t “actively” have any patches at the time, she dismissed me and made me feel stupid. So, I just treated it with Triam cream until it went away. For my scalp, I used T-Gel and other medicated shampoos.

About 4 Years Ago

My scalp kept getting worse, the patches kept spreading, and now my feet hurt so badly that I could barely stand up. It was strange, but true. My shoulders, hips, fingers, and knees started to hurt, too. I have a high tolerance for pain, but the pain in my feet felt like being punched in the nose and wanting to immediately throw up. That’s how it felt every time I stood up.

I went to a podiatrist who gave me a steroid shot in my foot and told me I would be fine. #Liar.

I continued to press on with massages, hot water, special shoes, and chiropractic care, but nothing changed. My PCP literally said, “I call bullshit on what you’re saying.” Those were his exact words. So, why continue to tell people something is wrong when no one listens?

For About 6 Months

I developed patches on my inner thighs, and they spread everywhere. It covered both my thighs, groin, and stomach area. Also, it looked like I had been scalded with hot water. It was hot, raised, itched a little, and kept spreading. I called my same PCP, who said I would be fine and that it would go away.

#Liar, and he is no longer my PCP.

I tried everything: alcohol (which burned), calamine lotion, A&D ointment, oats, you name it, I used it. My feet were getting worse, and my scalp felt like fish scales. I started using a metal comb to scratch my scalp until it bled just to relieve the itch. Afterward, I would stand under the hottest shower I could find and scald my scalp to get some relief.

My hairstylist tried to help by giving me anti-itch/soothing shampoos and conditioners, but nothing worked. I even stopped using conditioner and coloring my hair, thinking it would help. #ItDidNotHelp.

Eventually, I Got an Answer

I found a new PCP who looked at my scalp and said, “I have no clue, but it looks like white powder and you’re losing your hair. You should be fine.” Then, I went to another PCP, and he said, “Oh, wow, that’s bad.” Super helpful, right? I tried explaining the pain I was feeling, especially in my feet, but also in other parts of my body. I couldn’t sleep, my head always hurt, my vision was blurry, and the pain was overwhelming. The rheumatologist I saw said it was all in my head and that I was wasting her time. #HatefulWoman.

Finally, my son-in-law told me that if I didn’t do something, he was going to take me to see a doctor himself and use his words with the PCPs.

I finally found a dermatologist who was willing to listen. He was in a town about an hour and 45 minutes away from me. I was skeptical, but when I arrived, the office was calm and everyone was kind. I met the doctor, who looked about 12 years old. In my mind, I thought, “Great, another person who will tell me I’m fine.” But I was prepared with my list, ready to dump everything on him in 15 minutes. Honestly, I just wanted someone to hear me.

That doctor sat and listened to everything I had to say. I sobbed. The pain was so intense, I was exhausted because I couldn’t sleep, and my scalp was so bad that I would have done anything just to be heard. He told me that my labs weren’t normal and that he was considering two possible diagnoses: lupus and psoriatic arthritis. Just knowing he was taking me seriously was such a relief. He took a biopsy of my scalp and said the results would be back in 14 days, and we would have a definitive answer.

36 Years and 14 Days Later

I finally got my answer! The dermatologist called and confirmed that I had psoriasis. I had to return for a follow-up appointment to discuss next steps. When I went back, he told me that not only did I have severe psoriasis, but I also had psoriatic arthritis. That’s why my feet hurt, my joints were swollen, my vision was blurry, I couldn’t sleep, and I felt constant pain. It all made sense now.

Praise God.

He started me on a low dose of methotrexate, and within two months, I began to feel better. My feet stopped hurting, but my scalp was still in bad shape, and my hair loss was at its peak (thanks, chemotherapy). I remember the doctor asking, “How do you feel?” No one had ever asked me that before. I was honest and told him that I felt so much better. He asked if I felt “normal,” and I compared it to being able to breathe out of both nostrils at the same time. We both laughed. But when I said I wasn’t sure what “normal” was, he increased my methotrexate dosage.

3-Month Check-Up

The methotrexate made my liver enzymes skyrocket, so I had to stop it immediately. The doctor put me on Humira (a shot) every two weeks. Now, I feel much better. My feet don’t hurt anymore. I still have some pain when I’m stressed, tired, or on rainy days, but it’s nothing like before. My scalp is improving, and the Clobetasol he prescribed is a game changer. It’s a steroid liquid that I squirt and massage into my scalp.

I’ll be sharing progressive pictures of my scalp in future posts. It’s not pretty, but I want people to know that they can feel better with the right doctor! Don’t settle for people telling you that you’re fine or that it’s all in your head. Listen to your body. For the most part, I’m better. On the days when I’m not, I keep moving. I drink water, rest, do exercises that are easy on my joints (I swim), and take care of myself. It’s okay to do nothing sometimes.

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The Ghost from Juneteenth Past

Brandi C

The Ghost from Juneteenth Past

The Ghost from Juneteenth Past
Photo by Vie Studio on Pexels.com

Trigger warning If you or someone you know has struggled with suicidal ideations or attempts, please refrain from reading this content. Seek help! “Today, “988” is the three-digit, nationwide phone number to connect directly to the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. By calling or texting 988, you’ll connect with mental health professionals from the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline, formerly known as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Veterans can press “1” after dialing 988 to connect directly to the Veterans Crisis Lifeline, serving our nation’s Veterans, service members, National Guard, and Reserve members, and those who support them. For texts, Veterans should continue to text the Veterans Crisis Lifeline short code: 838255.”

Juneteenth

When you hear the phrase “Juneteenth,” what comes to mind? For some, it might be a day of little significance. For others, it is a deeply revered and celebrated day. According to Wikipedia, “Juneteenth, also known as Freedom Day, Jubilee Day, and Cel-Liberation Day, is an American holiday celebrated on June 19. On June 19, 1865, the Emancipation Proclamation, which had been issued on January 1, 1863, was read to enslaved African Americans in Texas by Gordon Granger.” That is a monumental moment in history! For me, I celebrate it, knowing what it means to my son, my nephews, and those I love. However, Juneteenth is also a dark day for me personally.

Loss and Grief

On June 19th, my friend passed away. LA was a firecracker. She was loud, her laugh could fill a room, and she loved her kids fiercely. LA was a fighter, loved by many, yet at times, she didn’t feel that love. She struggled with guilt and addiction. LA loved Jesus, her dad’s mini pecan pies, her children, her dogs, rabbits, and that smelly turtle in a tank. I loved her so very much.

Grief ebbs and flows. There are times when grief is so thick you can hardly breathe, and other times, you learn to live life again—until the nightmares come, rocking you to your core. Lately, I’ve had fleeting memories that make me smile, and the nightmares have mostly subsided.

The Ghost of Juneteenth

Today, as I walked into the clinic, I was greeted by the beautiful, smiling faces of people I’ve come to love. These faces are full of joy, hope, some sadness, and a lot of grit and determination. As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on a new face.

I caught myself inhaling sharply. The woman in front of me was dressed head-to-toe in hot pink—her hair, her eyes, her clothes, her voice—it was all LA. I swallowed hard and took a seat next to a familiar face while I gathered myself. I decided to take charge of the situation and avoided making eye contact for the rest of the day.

After finishing my rounds, I pulled the new person aside. We walked outside to get some fresh air. I sat mostly in silence as we spent time together, but toward the end, I felt myself choking up, overwhelmed with a sense of love and protection for her. In that moment, she hugged me so tightly, and we both began to sob. She couldn’t control her sobs, and I let mine flow too.

In That Moment

That moment brought me back to the slab where my friend lay, and I found myself wiping the dirt off her body. I was brushing and braiding her hair, speaking to her softly, telling her how worthy and loved she was. On June 19th, 2018, I was preparing her for her mother, brother, and children to see her one last time.

Today, in that room, I felt like I was hugging her again, weeping for her and with her, telling her she was worthy and loved. I longed to hold her longer, to tell her more about her children and grandchildren, but I remembered this wasn’t my LA.

The Lord has stirred up my grief, and I know I’ll need to confront this over the next month. During this time, I pray for healing—for my mind and my heart. I also pray for comfort for her children, brother, and grandchildren. I pray that I can make a difference in someone else’s life through this process.

Remembering

LA, I loved you fiercely in life, and I love you still. I’m so sorry that you felt alone and unloved in those final moments. I close my eyes, and I can still see your smile. Honestly, I can smell your hair, your fresh tattoo, and the detergent on your clothes. I can still hear the voices of your children, mom, and brother on that day. They loved you so much, and they still do. You are worthy, you are loved, and the world was better because you were in it.

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The Reality of my Nightmare

Brandi C

The Reality of my Nightmare

In The Reality of my Nightmare, my guest blogger writes about her interpretation of the trials that surrounded her. She writes it as if she were me. I read it the morning of my friend’s funeral. She is pretty spot on in all that she said.

The Reality of my Nightmare

Writing this seems like a nightmare

I am waiting to wake up from this nightmare because of how real it feels. But when I open my eyes, it will all go away. No. This nightmare is real. I can’t believe this is happening to me. Why? Why me? What did I do wrong to cause these people to knock on my door? Who has been watching me and observing my every movement? 

I am afraid

Afraid to raise my voice even the slightest bit because someone might be watching. Also, I am scared to take my child to the other room for fear that someone might think I will punish them. Afraid to go out in public with my child for fear that someone will judge me the wrong way and call them again. Why me? 

Raising Kids

Raising kids is hard, especially 7 of them. They are all so different in so many ways. Yet, I would not change a single hair on their head because I love them so much. I love my kids with every fiber of my being. I would gladly take any strife or burdens off their shoulders. I will put them on my own if it helps them and their future. 

My kids are special.

Some have mentally challenging issues. Then, others have some physical problems that need my constant attention. Being a mom is hard. It is tiring even. Yet, I am glad God chose these beautiful children to be mine. 

I love fiercely and will do anything in my power to protect them from the world and its temptations. Sometimes, I help others before I think about myself and my needs. I have run ragged, going in different directions to help those in need as God calls me to do. Honestly, I try to open myself up to other moms in various clubs and organizations my kids participate. I try to help them and converse with them when they need a friend or a shoulder to cry on. 

But You

You took care of my child when he played sports on your team. He became best friends with your kids. I thought you loved him like one of your own. He stayed at your house and slept over so many nights. Every time, he had a blast when he came home beaming from ear to ear. He would tell me all about how fun it is at your house. 

Invitation then Betrayal

I invited you into my home, which we manage to keep clean amongst the chaos of having multiple children and animals in the house. And yet, you betrayed my trust by calling them. Why? Why me? 

You know my child is well-fed. We give him clothes and things to toys. Furthermore, we keep him involved in sports. Importantly, we teach him the love of Jesus in everything we do. We fight for him daily because he is different. And that’s okay because I love him so much.

How Would You Feel

You are a mother with kids of your own. How would you feel if someone called them? They showed up at your doorstep asking to be invited in. Then ask you probing questions about your home and relationships with your kids? And what if you found out that it was a supposed “friend” who called them on you. 

How would you feel? 

Betrayed? 

Confused? 

I should hope so. 

That is how I felt. 

Terrifying Agony

The terrifying agony that my kids could be ripped away from me with no warning. Sadly, the wailing and uncontrollable sobbing happened in my car when I got the call. My heart can’t take it anymore. I am so tired of having to justify myself to these people. Justify every action that I do and every word that comes out of my mouth. 

How would you feel? 

Would you demand an explanation from your “friend” and say some nasty things to them in retaliation? Would you constantly look over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching you if you ever had to punish your child in public? Or are you one of those parents letting their children run amuck and do whatever they want? 

Either way, I want you to know that it is understandable if you did not know the family or had never been in their home and seen how the family operates. It would be understandable if you didn’t know my son or me. 

But you did know us. 

I was at every game. I talked to you all the time. And yet, you still called. I could trust you. You have betrayed my trust. But I choose to let God be in control of my situation. I prefer to let God judge your actions when you get to Heaven instead of judging you, which I am not called to do. 

Honestly, I choose to love like Jesus with skin on and be the city on a hill for you. I prefer to let God listen to my sorrowful prayers and collect my tears in a jar. Furthermore, I choose to let God pick me up and comfort me because he knows I am the mom He called me to be. I am not perfect. But God does not call us to be perfect. He calls us to be his disciples and to love our neighbor in his word. 

My house may be messy sometimes, and my kids may drive me crazy most days, but in what reality is home always tidy and the kids always clean and well-behaved? I would love to meet those people and that family. 

Haven’t you ever made a mistake as a parent? 

Because if you say no, that is a bold-faced lie. We fail daily at things. The key is learning from those mistakes, moving on, and leaving the past behind us. Those failures are also successes. I have put several of my kids through a full education (and I have homeschooled them for many years as well). Two of them graduated with honors, which is a huge accomplishment.

Mama Pride

One of my kids is married with a baby on the way. I could not be happier for my sweet child. My smallest child is excelling at what doctors told us would be impossible. Yet, with me by his side, he has survived those odds. 

The moments of pride I feel for the children I raised surpass the moments of sadness I think when things like this happen. I choose to find the beauty in the ashes. I will stand tall and not be shaken by people’s opinions of my family and me.

My Choices

So I will also choose to continue to stand by my children and attend every activity, club, and sporting event they are in. And if you other moms judge me or whisper tall tales about me that are not even true, I will smile and turn the other cheek as God has called me to, even if it is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Cruelty of Others

People can be so cruel nowadays, and they always look at the plank in someone else’s eye rather than focusing on the speck of dirt in their eye. Words can slice through a person and bring them down when we should be standing together as moms and supporting one another rather than bringing them down and jumping to conclusions by calling the organization before they have the facts straight. 

No, we moms are not perfect. But we are doing the best we can with the circumstances we are currently in and the children with whom the Lord has blessed us. I will continue to be the city on a hill and shine my light bright for my kids and you. 

And I know deep down in my heart that God will be pleased with my strength and integrity, and when I get to Heaven, He will say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” I can not wait for that day to come. 

In the meantime

I will continue to be the most fantastic mom to my kids and a faithful spouse to my husband. I am showing them the light of God. Continuing to shield them from the world will be a lifelong journey, but I would not change one thing about it, not for you or any other mom who says a spiteful word towards me. 

I will pray for you even though it is painful. Because in my darkest moments, I cling to Jesus the most, and when my faith is tested, I come out stronger than ever because my Redeemer is with me. No more hiding. No more fear. I will not be afraid. 

 

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

LA Came in Like a Tornado

Brandi C

LA Came in Like a Tornado

Leigh Ann Came in Like a Tornado

Ten years ago, I met a brassy blond girl at a ballpark. She had a crass mouth and a nasty smoking habit. She was loud and obnoxious. A person people moved away from when they saw her. She did not dress the part, talk the part, and certainly did not behave the part of what society deems “normal.” 

Yet, I was drawn to her. I saw myself in her—the girl that no one wanted to be friends with, the outcast. I have a deep love for those who seem unlovable. I see through the facade of what someone presents. I see their heart—that deep desire to fit in, yet the complete inability to do so.

Seeing a Bit of Jesus in Her

In my mind, I can close my eyes and see all the bright dots of Jesus throughout her. I just knew when those dots connected; she would be an unstoppable force of nature for the Kingdom.

I fell in love with this girl, her children, her brother, and her parents. We were a tight-knit group of misfits. I was blessed to be able to lead her to Christ one spring day. After she accepted Christ, I gave her a hot pink Bible. It was her favorite color. She loved Jesus with all her heart.

Mental Illness

She also struggled with mental illness. Despite her love for Jesus, she had good days and bad days. What bonded us was that I, too, suffer from mental illness. I have clinical depression. She had onset bipolar disorder. 

One thing I want you all to hear is that you can still love Jesus without abandon and still struggle with different types of mental illness. That does not mean you love Him less than someone who does not struggle.

How Did She Change My World?

She taught me how to accept those who were not “normal.” Also, she taught me to walk towards the waves instead of away from them. Live life without fear of abandonment and to hell what people thought of you.

Did I change her world? I hope I did. She made me a better person, and I hope I had some effect on her. Her mom always said that I did. I sure do love her children and now grandchildren. We were good for each other, for the most part.

Does it Change the World to Stand in the Gap?

Yes, it does the world when you brush and braid a friend’s hair for the last time? Also, when you begin painting her nails and toenails her favorite color? Does it change the world to wipe the ants off of her body while you are bathing her? What about closing her eyes for the last time?

Yes, it does change the world. It changed for LA’s children, her mother, and her brother. It also changed me and it showed me what the phrase “be Jesus with skin on” really means. Sacrificial love and service for her and her family.

LA, you are loved, thought of, and missed daily.

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Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

Lockup: Extended Stay

Brandi C

Lockup: Extended Stay

Lockup: Extended Stay

In Lockup: Extended Stay, I just completed a four-day stay in the hospital because of my mental health. I am not ashamed to say that’s why I was in the hospital. I needed help, and I can admit that now.

Things have been bad for me for basically a month, and I had nothing left to give. It started with me realizing that even though I had forgiven myself for my brother’s death, it didn’t make it any less painful than I was expecting. I thought that if I had forgiven myself, the hole in my heart wouldn’t feel as big.

Trauma Relived

On top of that, I have started remembering things from ten years ago, which just hasn’t worked out in my favor. I also had anxiety about what to do with the information I remembered. Do I report this even if it may ruin my family?

Do I report it even if I will have no biological family afterward? The decision was made for me. Now I’m dealing with the anxiety of waiting to hear from the police. Every time the phone rings, it’s like my world stops. I start shaking, and I get nauseous. I hate this feeling.

First Few Nights

My first few nights at the hospital were very lonely. I didn’t even start to make friends until the night before I left. Even though, I only knew those people for a short time, but they made a massive impact on me. I can’t help but think about where they are in the world.

Did Katie and Michaela get out today? What about Jamie’s mom? Did she ever pick him up from the hotel room? The other Katie, did she get the Job she interviewed for right after she got out? Did the girl with super long hair throw a chair through the window? Where are they now? Are they doing okay?

Dawn, the Night Nurse

My night nurse made the most significant impact on me. Dawn deserves a raise because she doesn’t make enough money for what she does. From the moment I met her, she was nothing but caring. The nurse answered any question I had. She got me food from the fridge when I was too anxious to do it myself. She treated me like I was her child.

On my last night there, she shared something with me that she had never shared with anyone. I won’t say what it was because that’s not my story to share, but it made me believe that I could talk to the police. I am strong enough to get through this.

Home Now

Now that I’m out, I feel like there’s this pressure that I have to be good now. Like I feel like I can’t be anxious or depressed. Don’t get me wrong, I am the best I have ever been, but it’s still not great if that makes sense. The bar was literally on the floor before now. I now appreciate the people around me a little more.

Looking back, I know I wouldn’t have made it through the past month without them. That’s not something I’ve been shy about, either. I’m so grateful to Bart (you guys may know him as “Big Daddy”) and Brandi. They have completely changed my life. I love them wholeheartedly, and I could never thank them enough for what they’ve done for me.

Guest Blogger

This was written by one of my favorite people. She is so precious to my soul. I am so encouraged by the strength it took for her to admit that something was not quite right. There have been so many days and nights that I have seen her struggle to maintain. The dam broke. Without the help of her medical provider, his nurse, and my son, she would have never had the strength to stand up for herself. She would have never sought the help that she needed.

Since doing that, it was discovered that she has Serotonin Syndrome. Many symptoms range from excessive sweating to goosebumps. All of this is caused by an accumulation of serotonin. Antidepressants cause some your body produces and some.

Thankfully, she is on the proper medication. She was on too many SSRIs and has completely leveled out. There is no shame in getting help. Had she not gotten the help she needed, she would have never discovered the meds to help her were hurting her.

 

End the Stigma, Quotes

Get Your Fight Back

Brandi C

Get Your Fight Back

Get Your Fight Back is one of the first videos I saw on TikTok.  This, well, it gave me chills.  Every time I hear/read it, I have the same experience.  Sarah Jakes Robert amazingly delivered this sermon.

“Get Your Fight Back” by Sarah Jakes Robert

It is titled “Get your fight back.”

Girl, get your power back.

~Girl, start acting like you are a king’s daughter, and that there has always been a crown attached to your head.

Even when I was sick I was still His. Even when I was dead, I was still His.

Do you know who I am?

I am a child of the highest God.

He has kept me alive so that I can be a testimony to everyone attached to me.

Get Up: There is No Hold on You

Girl, you can get up again.

And Girl addiction can’t have you.

Girl divorce gotta let you go.

Get up girl, Girl get up, Girl get up, Girl get up, Girl get up again.

Girl Depression gotta let you go.

And Girl anxiety has to lose its hold.

I’m pleading for you to get up.

My daughter needs to see you get up.

And My sister needs to you get up.

Get up, Get up.

I gotta get up, I gotta get up again,  I gotta get up again.

Get Your Prophecy

God’s you just sent a word, And now I know I need to get up again.

Something died on the inside of me, but I feel my spirit coming back.

I feel my power coming back and my ideas.

And I feel these dry bones shaken and coming back to life.

I’m getting up, I’m getting up.

I’m getting in position.

And I’m tired of crying about it.

I’m tired of fighting about it.

So I’m getting in the position.

Girl, You gotta get up.

I’m getting up for my daughter, I’m getting up for my sister, I’m getting up for my kids, I don’t even have them yet, but I was getting up for them too.

And I’m getting up for my community and marriage.

Gotta get up, I gotta get up, I gotta get up, I gotta get up.

Jesus, you’ve been chasing me too long.

I’m here and I surrender.

I gotta get up, I gotta get up.

The bitterness you got to Let me go.

Death, You can’t have me.

I gotta get up.

Honestly, I gotta find my joy.

I’ve got to find my peace.

I Gotta find my spirit again.

My friend made me who I am, my spirit got me into this.

And My spirit is gonna get me out, My spirit is going to get me out of it.

I got my Spirit back.

God touch me, God overflow.

I need your spirit, I’m hungry for it, I’m desperate for it.

God help me up.

Who You Need to Let Know

Let Hell hear you.

And Let the Depression hear you.

Let the enemy know.

And Let death know.

Spirit

The spirit is coming back to me.

This spirit, what spirit?

The Holy Spirit, the Name that is above all Names.

Yes. When we call on that Name things happen.

That’s what I’m calling on.

What I need

Your Spirit.

Jesus, I need your power.

Your healing.

Get Who You Are Back

The King of kings.

Lord of lords.

You are the way maker.

My healer.

What I Call You

Excellent.

Wonderful.

Magnificent.

Jehovah Jairus.

Jehovah

What I Say

You can have control.

I surrender.

Make a way.

Nothing is off limits

I say God touch me as only you can do.

God give me power.

Help me forgive.

I say God Cleanse me from bitterness.

Sermon Video and Full Transcript of Sarah Jakes Robert

Girl Get Up

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

End the Stigma, Faith Journey, Quotes

True Beauty from Within the Ashes

Brandi C

True Beauty from Within the Ashes

True Beauty from Within the Ashes

“True Beauty”

Do You think that a California girl is supposed to have curls and wear a jean size 3?
All the curves in all the right places, spray tanned faces like on TV?
And we read in the gospel of Vogue that we’re all supposed to dress and move and be
Visions of perfection
Such a misconception
‘Cause the real connection is deeper than the eye can see

True Beauty from Within the Ashes reminds me of a post I wrote about the little squares of life. Social media often becomes a tool for comparison, but what we see is just a curated snapshot. People carefully choose what they present to the world, but what’s hidden behind the screen—the chaos, the struggles, the unfiltered moments—remains unseen.

Chorus

What’s inside of you
What’s inside of me
The hands that made the moon and the stars
The mountains and the seas
Made you wonderful, beautiful, marvelously
Let the whole world see your
True beauty

Aw, Psalm 139, about how God created us.  If you haven’t read it, you should!

World Versus Truth

Don’t know much about Dolce and Gabbana
Seems like a lot of drama to me
And you can keep all your red high heels
And open-toed shoes – I’m good in my bare feet
Lets get down to the nitty gritty
Enough sex and the city
What about purity?
Skin is just the surface
The passion and the purpose that’s burning down inside us
Is really what we need to see

Purity is a rare treasure these days—how sad is that? It’s so easy to slip when emotions take over, even when you’re with the person you plan to spend forever with. Feelings are natural, but wisdom is essential. Staying accountable and avoiding situations where temptation can take root can prevent a lot of heartache—even if you’re engaged!

Chorus

What’s inside of you
What’s inside of me
The hands that made the moon and the stars
The mountains and the seas
Made you wonderful, beautiful, marvelously
Let the whole world see your
True beauty

Love and Peace

Doesn’t come in a bottle, doesn’t come in a box
You can’t spray it on, you can’t wash it off
You can’t nip and tuck, you can’t sew it up
So don’t waste your time
It’s the love in your heart, the peace in your soul
The hope in your smile lets the whole world know
This little light – you gotta let it shine

Love, peace, hope, a smile, and a shining spirit are so important to keep in our hearts. Yet, they can be difficult to hold onto—especially for those struggling with mental illness. The truth is, we all need to be intentional about cultivating these qualities. Maybe it’s as simple as leaving sticky note reminders to keep them at the forefront of our minds.

True Beauty from Within the Ashes

I hadn’t heard True Beauty in years. When the album first came out, I bought it and listened to it faithfully. But as life happened, things got misplaced along the way.

Recently, while updating my Worship playlist on YouTube, I searched for Shackles—a song I love, also by Mandisa. That’s when True Beauty popped up, leading me back to the entire album.

Feeling inspired while working on my blog, I decided to listen. The moment this song played, it was like warm water washing over me. It speaks to me now in a way it never did when it was first released—deeper, more personal, as if I was meant to hear it in this season of life.

Events of Today

Today, I had the privilege of ministering to a heartbroken young woman. We talked about beauty from ashes—Isaiah 61:3, one of my favorite verses. Her voice has been stifled for so long, silenced by the weight of her past abuse and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. In her eyes, she is broken.

We spoke about how the Lord has a purpose for both her past and present pain. One day, she will find the strength to use her story to help others. She will hold the hand of another, walking them through the ashes, guiding them toward their own beauty.

Encouragement

I hope you find encouragement in knowing that you are never alone. You are loved beyond measure. No matter your past, present, or future circumstances, God loves you right where you are. There is nothing you need to do to earn His love, and nothing you can do to lose it. His love is constant—yesterday, today, tomorrow, and every day until He calls you home.

 

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

Open Letter to A Brother Who Left This World Too Soon

Brandi C

Open Letter to A Brother Who Left This World Too Soon

In this Open Letter to A Brother Who Left This World Too Soon, my guest blogger remembers her brother, who died of cancer six years ago. What a thing for a family to go through. The loss of a child, grandchild, brother, and friend. He was a few days shy of turning 19 when he met Jesus.

Lord, bless this family. Bless them with peace and sweet memories as they navigate this difficult week as they remember this sweet boy. Please give them the knowledge that he is healthy and happy and hanging out with your Son, Jesus. He is waiting for them to all be reunited one day.

Open Letter to A Brother Who Left This World Too Soon

 

Dear Z,

It has almost been six years without you, and I don’t feel it has gotten any easier. This wound is taking forever to heal. I miss you so much, and naturally, I wish you were here with me. This is my least favorite time of year. I know you are watching over me and taking care of me. 

I Wish You Could Answer Me

I’d give anything to have one final conversation with you or give you one last hug. If I could go back and change things, I would. I would have stayed by your side through it all. I think about that all the time. Does it make me a bad sister for leaving you there? I could have taken whatever our stepfather threw at me to stay with you.

Missing All The Things

My mom told me a few years ago that you asked for me every day. You asked when I was coming back from dad’s. You know I like to take care of people. I took care of you for the longest time. Honestly, I miss waking up at 3 in the morning to refill your feeding pump. I miss helping you walk around, even though you protested the entire time. For six years, I have been waiting for you to appear in front of me. To give me a chance to tell you my final goodbye. To tell you I loved you just one more time. 

It Hasn’t Happened, so I’ll Keep Waiting.

I think I can finally start to let go of the regret I’ve had for the past six years. It’s time. You know I love you more than words could ever describe. I know your biggest fear of death was being forgotten, but you are unforgettable. You made an impact on everyone’s life. I will never forget you or the things you did for me. 

You were one of my best friends. I promise you my kids will know what a fantastic man you were. They will know how strong you were and how hard you fought. They will know that you are my hero, and I aspire to be as strong and brave as you were. 

After Six Years, I Can Let You Go and Let You Rest in Peace

That doesn’t mean I will forget about you. It means I don’t have to worry about you hating me for leaving. I know you loved me as much as I loved you. I know you weren’t upset about us leaving Mom. I’m just upset she wouldn’t let you stay with us. 

I am letting go of my regret because it wasn’t my fault you got sick. Honestly, I was a child, and I know it wasn’t my responsibility to take care of you. I am moving on and trying to start the new year off right. Thankfully, I know you will be with me and watching over me every step.

Love,

S

 

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

Healing Through Anger

Brandi C

Healing Through Anger

 

Healing Through Anger

In this piece, my guest blogger talks about how she is healing through anger. Anger is a valid emotion, as Jesus was angry when He turned over the tables in the temple. Anger is secondary to fear and/or sadness. In this piece, you can see her fear. Also, you can feel her sadness. Please pray for this young girl as you think of it.

I Am So Angry With You

I have said it a million times, but I am so angry with you. If I were in the business of hating people, you would be first on my list. The thought of you makes my blood pressure skyrocket. Why couldn’t you be a normal stepfather? Seriously, why did you have to abuse me? Why me? I was a child. What kind of man likes children? 

I wish my mom would have never met you. Honestly, I wish I did not blame myself for what you did. I know I was young, and it was not my fault. It’s yours. You are the one who abused me, not the other way around.

Tell the Truth

I have had a few opportunities to tell you the truth, to say whatever I wanted to you, but I did not. Part of me wishes I would not have been such a coward. I want you to know how much you hurt me. The other part of me knows that what I said would not matter; you would not care. You would enjoy the attention; you always like all the attention on you.

What I Want to SCREAM

I want to scream at you and tell you that you hurt me. Also, I want to tell you that you traumatized me. I want to tell you how I cannot even change clothes in the comfort of my own home without feeling uncomfortable or like I am being watched. To yell that you took my childhood and my innocence away from me. That is something I will never get back. I cannot go back and act like a child again. Not all of that is your fault, but a big piece of it is.

I am never a violent person, but I would like to punch you in the face after a few good times. I bet that would help me release some of my anger. That sure would make me feel better. I do not understand how you can have four types of cancers and still be alive. I guess that is just how my life goes.

Papa T is Crossing the Line

I heard a phrase today that I had not heard in a long time. A phrase that makes me nauseous. “Daddy T,” I never understood why you made us call you that. Mom does not understand why that name makes me uncomfortable; honestly, I don’t completely understand it myself. All I know is the name makes me physically sick. My sister told me today that you want her daughter to call you “Papa T,” It incited some rage in me. 

Yet, That Baby is Safe From You

Luckily that baby lives far away now, so you cannot get your hands on her. I could promise you that you would never meet her if she were still around. I would go to jail before that happened, and I would be okay with it. You will never get the satisfaction of her calling you “papa T,” which I feel is WAY too close to “Daddy T.” 

You will never get the satisfaction of taking that baby’s innocence away from her, which brings me just a little bit of you. Your abuse ended with me, and I will do everything I can to ensure it goes no further.

Working on Forgiveness

I know it does not sound like it, but I am trying to forgive you. It is just a slow process. The thing is, I am not forgiving you for you. I am doing this for me. To heal. I am doing it to put you in the past and finally move on. To better myself and be the best person I can be. I know, in the end, you will get what you deserve, and I will not even have to lift a finger.

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Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

Three Words I Can Say Could Make You Hate Me

Brandi C

Three Words I Can Say Could Make You Hate Me

Guest Blogger

In this piece, Three Words I Can Say Could Make You Hate Me, my guest blogger begins to outline her life when she was younger. She has a powerful voice yet is still too scared to let it out loudly. Time and Jesus will cure that. I’m so proud of her and all she has been doing to heal.

A Born Fixer

Ever since I was a little girl, all I wanted to do was please and helped you. All I have done my whole life is what you need. You needed someone to bathe a kid. I did it. You needed someone to help feed a kid. I did it. You needed someone to complain to, and that was me. 

I grew up listening to everything wrong in your life, your husband or ex-husband’s drama, your “my kids hate me,” my kids are terrible, and my kids don’t love me. Did you forget I was your kid too? Or am I just an ear to listen and a body to help work? You’ve groomed me well for the job I would like to have one day. If anything, I am a listener and want to help others to the best of my ability. So at least there is a positive within all the negativity. I have listened to and experienced this during my life.

This Thing Called Life

My life has been a series of what mom needs me to do next? What does my youngest brother need? Or even what can I help another brother with that day? He may have had most of your attention growing up, but that also meant that he got the attention of the men in your life. So many negative things were going on in his life as well. As much as I don’t like him, I do love him, so I didn’t want to see him so upset. 

You have complained to me so many times about so many different things that it makes me scared to share anything good or bad with you because I am afraid it will upset you. If I tell you some things, you’ll stop caring, stop loving me. Instead, I would bottle up or ignore it because I know you wouldn’t approve of or hurt your feelings.

What About Me and My Feelings

Like sometimes, I want to point out that I have feelings, too, and I’m tired of having only one-way conversations about you and your kids like I’m not one of them. I know you don’t mean anything by it towards me, but it still hurts me. Especially when you say we are all unmotivated kids, that’s don’t care about you. Maybe not in that order, but they have both been said. I am motivated. I work. I’m trying to move out. I do love you. Stop putting us all together like we are all the same. 

One day I would like to have a conversation with you about my life and the things I am learning about myself. Like I remembered what it was like to be motivated to finish something. Sure, it’s just a sweater, but that is an accomplishment to me. To be able to wear something that I made. Just because it’s not interesting to you doesn’t mean it’s not essential.

My Dreams

The same with schooling; just because it’s not what you want me to do doesn’t mean that it’s not something I can do. I want to work in the psychology field with kids. But that’s not good enough for you. You want me to be able to support myself, and I get that, but why can’t you help me in my decision on what I want to do? It just might take me a while to get there.

The Truth About My Engagement

I would love to sit down and talk with you about why I truly didn’t get married. How it was a lie, to begin with, sure it wasn’t intentional, but a lie nonetheless. I want to tell you that I have recently learned that I am not interested in men but more confused than anything. I’d like to have your support while I try to figure everything out all the way. But you’d disown me for that thought or try to shame me out of it. 

I have listened to everything you have had to say about everything and everyone. I have supported you through good and bad decisions. In short, I have loved you and accepted you as you are. But you would not do the same for me, I am sure. You would hear the words, and then you’d be done. Done with me and done with everything else because without me, who will you talk to?

Three Words I Can Say Could Make You Hate Me

Without me, who will help you when you’re down? Without me, who will help pick up the pieces left and glue them back together when anger or sadness strikes?

I love you, and I worry about you more than anything or anyone else. So me keeping this one thing from you. Keeping it under lock and key may hurt me, but at least I know you’ll be okay. Cause I’ll still help you. The sad thing is there’s nothing you can do to make me stop loving you, but just three could make you hate me.

Thankful

Today, I am thankful for the bravery of this young lady. She certainly has powerful emotion behind her words. Also, she is using them to help her sort through the muddy water. She is loved and a treasure. May she be blessed in her courage and continue to speak for those who do not have a voice.

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Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

Ending the Stigma of Mental Illness

Brandi C

Ending the Stigma of Mental Illness

Ending the Stigma of Mental Illness

In Ending the Stigma of Mental Illness, my guest blogger shares her thoughts on this subject. I have a mental disorder that can be crippling at times. When I say crippling, I mean I cannot get myself out of bed. I have thoughts on a continuous loop that should not be there: those days when I don’t call or text. Or even speak to people. Hell, I don’t even come out of my room. When I say I can’t get myself out of bed, I mean, I literally will stay in it for days. I will only leave to go to the bathroom or to eat.

The “Happy” Place

There are also days when I am “happy”; these are the days when I can get myself into trouble. When I talk ninety to nothing and spend all of my money in one place, I could get in the car and drive in one direction, not knowing where I am going, but going anywhere is better than where I am. These are the days when I bombard all my friends that I haven’t talked to in days that I want to do something. On these days, I don’t sleep, I could be up for days at a time, and it wouldn’t bother me. I make poor choices when I am like this.

This is Bipolar Disorder in a Nutshell, at Least in my Case.

I am tired of the stigma on mental illness or mental health. Everyone can tell if you have asthma by the physical complications you have. However, when it comes to mental illnesses, we dare not speak of them. They don’t exist for people who don’t have them or perceive them as unfavorable.

You don’t see people not talking to people with asthma, so why shouldn’t they for people with mental illness. Honestly, I should feel free to share that I have bipolar disorder without having people think that it means I’m crazy. Furthermore, I shouldn’t have to own that lie, but here I am, pretending it doesn’t exist or calling myself crazy.

I am Tired of Comparing Myself to “Normal” People

What does that mean anyway? To be “normal.” The definition of normal is conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected. So I see that everyone should be the same, act the same, and do the same things the same way? Maybe I’m looking at it negatively, but it sounds like normal people are nowhere to be seen. Because no one is the same, no one is conformed to the same standards.

So why do we make ourselves feel less than just because of a mental illness? Bipolar disorder is my regular just because it isn’t yours doesn’t mean that you have the right to tell me that I am wrong, not to be trusted, or dangerous because of it.

Thankful

Today, I am thankful for modern medicine. It has helped me look at life a bit more clearly. God is more significant than all, but He created man to create a treatment to help. Never feel weak because you need medication to help you even things out. You are not weak! Honestly, you are brave and strong.

 

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

From the Outside Looking

Brandi C

From the Outside Looking

From the Outside Looking

From the Outside Looking In {my family}

We were a happy family

{We} went to church

We spent time with other people

{We} went places together

But what you don’t see

Is the mother that can’t get out of bed

Or the stepfather that won’t help feed the kids

And the nine-year-old raising her younger brothers.

All that is seen is what they want you to see

Happy, healthy children

Children that spend time with other kids

And parents that provide the best they can

Truly my parents did try the best they could

But sometimes that’s not enough

Sometimes the best is not good or bad just an effort

On the days that everyone was happy

Everything was fine

But those days when the yelling was too hard to bear

Or the throwing of things was upsetting to hear

Those are the days that stick with children

Having a stepfather that could care less

Or can’t stand to look at you because you’re not his

Or maybe because of jealousy of the bond a mother has with her kids

That is hard

And then there are the days

When your mother can’t get out of bed

Because she has massive depression

Not that you understand because yet again you are nine

Those days are the days that are the hardest

Because you’re alone in the house

And in charge of the kids

Who are five and one

Don’t get me wrong I love those kids

And I would do anything for them still

But there is so much one child can do

And some things are just too much responsibility

And even though no one knew what was going on

Or maybe no one was observant enough to see

Either way, I choose to believe that it all happened for a reason

And I would still choose to help even though it took away my childhood

At least they got to keep theirs

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

The Real Truth About Death and Grief

Brandi C

The Real Truth About Death and Grief

In The Real Truth About Death and Grief, my guest blogger goes through her emotions of losing her brother at a very young age.  The loss of a sibling is devastating to the other children, as well as, the parents.  It is unimaginable pain that lingers for so very long.

The Real Truth About Death and Grief

Dearest Z,

A kid my age I knew from school came in, and he reminds me so much of you. He has something wrong with him medically, and he walks just like you did when you got sick. I saw him, and that made a bad day worse. Seriously, I wanted to give him a big hug. Then, I tried to crawl under the register and cry. I miss you so much. It has been five years. I can’t believe it. You deserve to be here, bub. I think that you would be married with a family now. You would be a good dad.

Honest Prayer

I prayed to God every night for years that it was me instead of you. Honestly, I prayed that I could take all your pain away. I wanted to make you better, and I couldn’t. That seems to be a recurring theme in my life. I joke about you being dead, but that’s how I cope with you being gone. 

I’m sorry we left you with mom. I’m sorry I didn’t stay with you that last year. I would have gone through whatever T threw at me to be with you last year. Mom told me about how you asked for me every day after your seizure, and that story hurts my heart. She told me about how you thought you saw me running around the foot of your bed every night before you went to bed. I am sorry I wasn’t there for that. I wish I were there to be running around your bed. 

Life isn’t the same without you. I missed your voice, hugs, and yelling at me when I tried to help you walk. Honestly, I miss you, dude. You were a light to anyone who knew you, and I miss your presence.

Thankful

Today, I am thankful for the beginning of healing. I have an awareness of where healing needs to happen. Also, I know the route that must be taken to walk through the pain that leads to healing.

 

 

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

How to Separate the Good Mom from the Bad Mom

Brandi C

How to Separate the Good Mom from the Bad Mom

My guest blogger writes a letter to her mom. She is working through How to Separate the Good Mom from the Bad Mom. Her path of healing has been long and arduous. She is wading through the good memories and the bad. Right now, sadly, bad memories are more prevalent. I pray that one day, she will remember the good memories she had with her mom. Somehow, someway, it makes the bad memories more bearable.

How to Separate the Good Mom from the Bad Mom

My Dearest Mother,

My Dearest Mother, you have caused me so much pain for the past ten years. I cannot count how many times I have laid in bed at night and cried because of you. Sadly, I have cried because I was not good enough for you. I have cried because, at times, I have needed you most, but you were not here. Also, I have cried because I cannot call you when I have had a hard day at work or school. It is frustrating that you are so thickheaded that you cannot see what you did wrong. I have written you numerous letters hoping they would somehow reach you and you would come to your senses. 

Spoiler alert, you have not. 

For years, I walked on eggshells to ensure I did not hurt your feelings. At this point, I do not care. I am fed up with the lies you feed everyone. Imagine saying that your eleven-year-old daughter made up a story about how you locked your sick son up in his bedroom and would not give him food. Like, I did not just wake up one day and say, ‘Hm, I think I want to make up this lie and make my mom look bad today.’ Imagine trying to blame you and your husband’s actions on CHILDREN. Honestly, I have not asked you for much, just for you to admit what you did and apologize. 

I know that is something I will never get. 

Once, you told me you were raising us how you wanted to be treated. That does not make sense to me. Who wants to be sexually abused by their stepfather for years? Because I certainly did not. I did not want him to watch me every time I took a shower. Also, I did not want him to watch me get dressed. I did not want him to put his hand on my butt whenever I stood remotely close to him.

Furthermore, I did not want him to take my sister and me to the garage that day and assault us. I did not wish for all this trauma you gave me. All I wanted was a mother. 

At this point

 I do not even wonder what my life would be like had you not met my stepdad because it tends to hurt my feelings. Why wasn’t I good enough for you? Honestly, why? Why? Just why? I have so many questions for you, and I know I will not get a single answer. All I want is a mom. Someone to look out for me, give me advice, and most importantly, I want to experience a mother’s love. 

Every night, when I pray, I pray that I am not like you. I pray that I never cause my children pain. Also, I pray that my kids will NEVER lay in bed at night crying because they feel I do not love them. I will be nothing like you, and that is a promise. Maybe you will come to your senses one day, but that is doubtful.

Best Regards,

Your Daughter

 

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

Memories with My Mom

Brandi C

Memories with My Mom

Memories with My Mom

 

Memories with My Mom. My earliest memories of my mom are when she would rock me and sing silly old songs that would make me giggle. We would play hide and seek, sit outside on the glider, and swing for a long time. 

We had snuggled in the bed, played with Barbie dolls, or watched me dress up about a million times just because she wanted to. We rode our bikes down the dead-end street and the car rides we would take to Granny’s or Jojo’s house. 

I love my mom. 

She is the best kind of mom a kid could have. My mom and dad were strict, but they made rules up for me to keep us in a structured house, and we always managed to have fun. She always took me to church on Sundays and AWANA on Wednesdays; she homeschooled us for the longest time, which I know at times must have been challenging for her with three kids. 

We would always do fun things together as a family and were all close. My mom always opened her home and heart to foster children and kids that we eventually adopted into our family, which caused us to grow in numbers.

My Thoughts

I must have made my mom’s life challenging because I was a considerably difficult child. There were a lot of things wrong in my life. Our relationship has hit lots of bumps in the road. I am very stubborn and unwilling to try new things because I am always afraid I will mess it up and embarrass myself. 

She gave me so many things that I asked for (begged for) without hesitation because she knew I wanted them. I never truly appreciated all of her wisdom and knowledge because I always think my way is best, and I know what I am doing is right. 

So many mistakes. 

I have made so many mistakes. I have hurt my mother on more than one occasion, yet she still loves me and still forgives me. No matter what. I love my mom. I love her kind and gentle soul. Her willingness to help others at moments of notice. The way she cooks with love and affection (she is the most fantastic cook). She is still in love with my dad after years of marriage. She still loves me even after all that I have put her through. 

So many tears. 

I can still see the look on her face when I told her I screwed up again. She gave me so many chances that I honestly did not deserve. She has been there for me through joyous occasions, heartbreak, funny moments, and moments of pride when I accomplish something the right way.

Communication

She has helped me learn how to communicate. To use my words even though that is sometimes very hard for me. Sometimes, I do not know how to articulate times properly. She has been there for me through my depression and anxiety. Honestly, I do not know how to handle it properly yet. She has been there for me throughout my whole school education. Also, she has supported me during the most challenging moments of college. She is the best person. Even if she says she isn’t, she is.

Strength

I do not care what she says. She is an excellent mother who does her best under certain circumstances that are out of her control. We are the very definition of a blended family. We have all kinds of mental health problems, physical problems, trauma, etc. And she is so graceful in dealing with everything she has dealt with in the past.

Hindsight is 20/20

I wish I were not the cause of some of her heartache. Also, I hope I had just listened to her instead of trying to do things my way. I wish that I had not asked for all of those things just because I wanted them. Honestly, I have prayed so hard that our relationship would be strengthened. At that moment, I vowed that I would always be honest and communicate with her whenever she asked, even if it was hard for me.

Answered Prayers

I have admitted some things to her that I can not even accept about myself. We have been open with each other, and we have gotten so much closer than we used to be, which I am so thankful for. God answered my prayers. I am gaining wisdom from her, and my communication has improved with time and patience. 

She is my rock and the one person I can trust never to judge me. I know she loves me with all of her heart, and I know that she prays for me every night. I can only hope that one day I will be like her. She is an amazing person. 

Mom, I love you more than words can even describe. 

I am so blessed and thankful that God chose you and Dad to be my parents. I am so sorry for all the times I made you cry over me. I am grateful for all the times you have been there for me, the times you have forgiven me, and the times that you have extended grace towards me. You inspire me with your strength every day. 

Mom, you are always the one to go without hesitation to help us kids. Lately, to sit with us in the hospital for days on end. You have such a giving soul. I have seen it through the relationships and friendships that you have had in the past. I can only hope that one day I will be like you.

Thank You

Thank you for everything you have done for me and what you continue to do for me every day. You are a gift and a treasure, and I will love you for the rest of my days on Earth. Know your worth (like you tell me every day). Know how much of a blessing you are to your family and friends because of your giving heart.

I love you, momma.

Always and forever.

Love, Peach.

 

Circle of Hope Counseling Services, End the Stigma, Guest Blogger, Suicide Awareness and Prevention

No Thanks to You Part 3

Brandi C

No Thanks to You Part 3

No Thanks to You Part 3

No Thanks to You Part 3. It was such a shock to me. It came without warning. I honestly don’t understand. Because that morning, it was business as usual. We were doing quality assurance and fixing simple mistakes on the computer. What was that you said to me? 

If you did your job right the first time, your mistakes wouldn’t be on this list? I could count maybe five mistakes out of hundreds that I could claim. And they were as simple to fix as checking a box. But you felt the need to the point that out to me. You worked me to the very end. 

 

That was hurtful. 

 

When you said that to me, I cried silently at my desk. It wasn’t the first time. I cried silently because of the stress you put me under, and this job put me under. The anxiety and the depression were insurmountable at the time. As one does, I put on a brave face and carried on. I didn’t let you see me sweat. 

 

His face, as you fired me, was that of sorrow. That he didn’t want to be in this position, he looked at me with pity while it seemed you were doing a victory dance. Was I that bad of an employee for you to find joy in letting me go? You were so callous it was almost cruel. At least he had some sense. He knew I was a good worker, and I don’t think he truly understood your decision. 

 

Jealous Co-Worker

 

Because she was always in your ear about something, she was intimidated by me. She hated me. Therefore, you had to hate me. I blame you and her. I do not blame him. He did nothing wrong. He was just a poor, unfortunate person to be in that situation. 

 

I can’t believe that you joked and laughed as I was cleaning out my desk. I was crying, and you were laughing. That is unbelievably cruel. He walked me out, and he was genuinely sorry for the situation. But you, you were cruel. 

 

What Happened Next

 

So, I need to educate you on what happened to me after you fired me. What is the aftermath of your decision to let me go from my job? No wonder people hit such deep lows when they lose a job. That hurts if you put 100% of your efforts into a career and are just dumped. 

 

I had very little money. What money I did save went to get a new apartment. I had to move. I couldn’t stay where I was anymore. It took everything I had. I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I felt like such a failure. Even with the meds, I was depressed. I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to live with myself. 

 

Choices

 

Choices are a funny thing, and we make them every day. But our choices affect those around us. Your choices affected me negatively in a bad way. I was already depressed, and your choice made it so much worse. When it rains, it pours, and you were the last thundercloud. The straw that broke the camels’ back. 

 

I was a broken human. Frankly, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I remember being so sad. So numb. I didn’t feel anything anymore. Nothing made me happy. I was in such a bottomless pit I didn’t think anyone could save me. Honestly, I want you to know that. I hope my life will be a lesson to you, what man meant to harm, God intended for good. 

 

It wasn’t good for a long time. 

 

God knew that it was only by His grace that I survived that period of my life. He knew that was the worst possible job I could be in. He knew that was a bad fit for me and my personality, though I was good at it. So really, it became a blessing. But don’t think for one second that I don’t still hold resentment towards you. Even my ex-co-worker can’t stand you. No one can. Because you are rude, you talk over people and rub people the wrong way, not many people like you. 

 

Without your poor choice

 

I would not have made it to the job I have now. I wouldn’t have met my forever love. My job now is awesome, and I am very good at it. I am highly respected by everyone that knows me. And well-liked by many in my profession. I tell people how it is, I do not judge them, I do not micro-manage, and I am not micromanaged. 

 

I am free to do things my way. And my way works. I am still medicated, but I am medicated for the best. It helps me cope with those dark days. Those days are so uncertain, and I never know when one will come up. But they are manageable now. 

 

My life is better now, no thanks to you.