Finally!!!

I know some of you have been waiting for the story on my blog. Finally, I think I may have the first post ready after this Thanksgiving. Reflecting on where I came from and what family means to me has become very real. I remember the smells, the people, maybe a blanket, or a stuffed animal. In fact, I still have my first baby blanket, which has a hole in it, the size of me. I can even recall sucking my thumb and rubbing the blanket against my face until I got a rash. I'm pretty sure it smelled horrible, but I must have thought it was amazing. It was my source of comfort and security.

I remember Thanksgivings filled with so many people and so much food—the smells, the love, the chaos, the football, the snoring, and playing with all my cousins I never see today. It's strange how life changes. I can remember little phrases that family members and friends used to say, and each memory brings a flashback of that particular person and moment. Our brains are amazing in that way. All those moments were golden, whether we thought they were good or bad.

This Thanksgiving, I was sick, and it felt like just another day. There was no turkey, no family, except for Duane and Kaziah. I was lucky if I even had the chance to say "Happy Thanksgiving" to anyone. It was the first Thanksgiving ever in my life that felt so empty. Sometimes I found myself wondering what I had to be thankful for during such times. That’s when I thought of the memories—what I’m made of, what has changed, and what is now. Not every story has a happy ending, but sometimes you have the chance to create a new story.

I always wished my kids could have the big family celebrations I enjoyed when I was little, but things are different now and much harder. I have fought and worked for everything I have. They say if you love someone, you'll make time for them. Yet, oddly enough, when something tragic happens, you find a way to make time. I made time for the people I loved, and in the process, I lost two jobs and the people I lost them for. I literally lost everything! 

I will be 47 in about three weeks, and as I sit in my bathroom with the door locked, I can hear my cat trying to break it down. This is the only time I have, so I'm using it to try to find myself. I have seven grandchildren. Two of them I was being sprayed by their amniotic fluid while witnessing the most amazing moments ever. Three I’ve never met, and the other two I never get to see. Two are biological, and the others are by marriage. I wonder if anyone can guess how many I actually see? Despite having phones and video chat available, I still cannot see them. We live in different time zones, and with my work schedule, it’s nearly impossible to connect, even digitally. I’m not sure if any of them even remember who I am, which is one of the hardest things I deal with. 

Becoming a grandparent has been one of the best experiences of my life, and I know I will never fully understand some of the things that have happened. There’s a reason behind everything, even if I may never know what it is. Somehow, every heartbreak and every loss has brought me to where I am today. Depression is real, and addiction is real! If you underestimate them, they will consume you and destroy everything around you. I used to be outgoing and a bit wild, sometimes embarrassing myself and others. Today, I look much different. After a mental breakdown, I now experience extreme anxiety and regular panic attacks, some of which can be crippling. My whole world is different, and I’m learning to live with that. 

I’m learning to cope with my situation, and I'm also learning how to help others through this process. Every day is a fight with no cure; you have to start over every single day. Some days are good, and some are bad. Finding a reason to fight is essential. Life is too short to spend trying to make everyone else happy, and it’s also too short for people or things that don’t bring you joy. You have to be there for yourself.

I have given up significant things in my life for others—some know about it, and some do not. It has been hard to reflect on what I have endured because of so-called friends and family. However, I wouldn’t change any of it because each experience, good or bad, shapes who you are and drives you to become who you want to be. These life lessons are often more painful than you can prepare for.

So even though this Thanksgiving did not turn out how I had imagined, I still hold on to my memories of where I came from. In the last several months, I stepped away from everyone in my life because I needed time to figure out where I’m going and who I am now. I am not the same person I once was. This year, I am thankful for everything I have, even if it’s not much. I’m grateful for the immense love that Duane and I share and for my 16-year-old, who is my best friend. I’m grateful for my grandchildren even if my time with them was cute short. For the first time in a long time, I am finding a purpose. I am in a place where I feel accepted, loved, and genuinely appreciated. It’s a sisterhood filled with amazing women who uplift and support each other, no matter what. This is the Diva Den! I’ll share more about it another time. For now, I leave you with a question to ponder: Who have you sacrificed more for—yourself or someone else? Think about it. Is there a balance? How does this make you feel?

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