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2X Bestselling Author | Writing Coach | Speaker | ADHD | Bipolar | Epileptic | DV & SA Survivor | High Conflict Divorce & Custody Battle Survivor | 🩷💜💙 | #BLM ✊🏽 | Vegetarian 🌱 | Seen in NYTimes, Forbes, TIME | ΔΣΘ
Today is World Mental Health Day, so I wanted to share an excerpt from my book Protecting My Peace: For me, the journey to healing began when I finally took the first step to acknowledge my pain. I sank to the worst depths of despair I could ever imagine. It was then that I realized something had to change. So, one afternoon in the middle of the week, I packed one duffle bag with only my clothes and fled my home state to escape a cycle of physical, emotional, and financial domestic abuse that had lasted more than a decade. I didn’t know what faced me ahead, but I knew nothing could be worse than everything I had already endured. My job, marriage, family, and relationships were shredded at the seams from my exhaustion and lack of focus on putting myself first. I didn’t even know how to attend to my own needs because I never had. But now I had no choice. If I didn’t commit to taking care of myself, the consequences would be disastrous for my health and even my life. Eventually, I found a Black woman psychiatrist who was 70 years old—the same age as my mom. And at the end of our first session, she told me to give myself a big hug. She congratulated me for overcoming fear and taking the first step to take care of myself and what she called the chemicals in my brain. Not that I was sick. Not that I was bad. Not that I was a disappointment. I had chemicals in my brain that needed to be managed so I could feel better and heal. I received confirmation of the anxiety and PTSD I suspected I was suffering from as a result of more than a decade of unaddressed trauma. In addition, I found out I was also struggling with the symptoms of both bipolar disorder and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Initially, I cried—a mixture of relief, sadness, and fear. I felt like the bottom of my world had fallen out from underneath me. But it explained so much about what I was going through in the present and how I had handled most of my life. I often couldn’t think clearly or concentrate, even though I was an “A” student as an undergrad at a top university and had earned three master’s degrees in business, organizational management, and interdisciplinary studies with a focus in English and writing. I was also a college professor for more than a decade. But for reasons I couldn’t articulate during that time, I had largely not been happy. And when I did feel joy, it was fleeting and hard to recapture. I had always felt like there was something more that would relieve this feeling of emptiness. With each degree, accomplishment, promotion, and milestone like marriage and children, the emptiness only subsided temporarily, then came back with a vengeance as if to let me know it would not go quietly. I knew that the peace I sought wouldn’t be found in any of those things. It was inside me, and I needed to take my doctor’s advice. I needed to take care of myself. I needed to love myself with everything I had inside. I needed to hug myself and not let go.