Today I go public about a very personal journey, one that I had carried with shame for the past 40 years. It’s time to get real and remove the mask. There is too much at stake.
My mother suffered from bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. After multiple attempts, she succeeded at killing herself when I was 14, and she was only 35. It’s been nearly 40 years, and I spent most of my life ashamed of the legacy I grew up under. I now realize that I was being dishonest. I’m in the process of writing a book about my mom…
It’s Mother’s Day. I awoke at 3:45 am. Couldn’t go back to sleep, so I choose to write. Each Mother’s Day lands on me totally different. Today I honor my mom Yvonne and my grandmother Rosetta. I am working on a book project to honor their memories, and this is my first public post about the project. I’m not on a deadline. This is a passion project. For those who don’t know, both of these amazing women died tragically when I was 14 years old — one to suicide and the other to alcoholism.
After carrying so much grief and…
Writing a memoir about mental illness, suicide, alcoholism and poverty has changed me already. I’m not the same person I was 15 months ago, when I first decided to open myself up and share our family story publicly. Now that I am organizing the writing to see what it will turn into, I’m uncovering moments of truth along the way. This is one of them.
Originally written December 2019
I decided to take on this project almost two months ago. At the time, it was all passion, and my heart was pulling me forward. …
It’s December 2020, nearly a year since the scourge of COVID-19 took over our world, and just a couple weeks away from a new year.
We try to laugh about how happy we’ll be when 2020 is over, attempting to make light of the pain and trauma we’ve all experienced this year. The trauma we’ve collectively experienced is not only due to COVID, but also due to the proliferation of images highlighting the reign of terror that police have had over Black people in our country literally since slavery. …
My soul is yearning to be free, light and easy.
My soul is yearning to release the pain and disease of a horrific time.
My body wants to run through fields
Cartwheeling and rolling in the grass
Yipping and screaming and singing a nonsensical song.
My soul is ready to open up and reconnect to my inner child
Pull out my crayons and draw on the walls
Paint a wall with chalkboard paint and play tic tac toe.
My soul is yearning for rest
To get a good night sleep for once.
Not waking at 3 am worrying about face…
I originally wrote this back in August. This was sitting in my computer, having done its job to provide a moment of catharsis.
It’s almost 3 months later, and we are days away from one of the most important elections of my lifetime. As a writer, it is one of the ways that I process. As a Black woman in America, writing, therapy, prayer, and having several spaces to process the hurt, anger, outrage and grief of this year has helped me to stave off the onslaught of all that 2020 has thrown at us. I originally was going to…
Writer. Coach. Mom. Advocate for Mental Health and Suicide Prevention. I share my story in hopes of joining a growing dialogue to de-stigmatize mental illness.