So, here I am.

So, you’ve landed yourself on my page. I’m so glad. I’m not a professional, but I speak from my experiences. I like to call my experiences seasons. I’ve been through a lot. Maybe you’ve followed my journey all along, or maybe you’re just finding me. Writing is something I thoroughly enjoy. I LOVE to talk to people. Everything that I write is directly from my mind. I don’t do any rough drafts, or get too caught up in proofreading. My dream is to write a book- maybe 4 or 5 to be exact. That’ll come when I can get myself together enough to sit down and really organize my thoughts.

If you’ve followed me before, you know that I became a young widow at the age of 31. I lost my husband, Kyle, to a lengthy battle with cancer. Throughout his diagnosis and illness, I made it my priority to advocate for his life. The journey through his illness, treatments, hospice, death, and beyond have become one of my seasons. Since the loss of Kyle, I’ve ventured through many more seasons, and before Kyle, I experienced many seasons. Right now, my priority is to advocate for my own health.

I suffer with mental illness. As far back as I can remember, my mental illness began with OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I manically cleaned house. That started in my childhood. Through my teen years, I never really understood mental illness. I knew that my biological dad was “crazy” or “weird”, but I didn’t let that affect me. I was raised by my mom and my stepfather, who I refer to as my dad. Growing up, my stepdad showed my brother and I a normal life. My mom is a nurse and has always worked nights, so I never knew too much about her personal life because, when she was home from work, she was on her sleep schedule due to working nights and we were at school. It was in my early twenties that I felt like “cleaning house” or many of my normal activities that I once thought of as fun were no longer satisfying me. I slowly began to toy with the fact that maybe I, too, suffered with “mental illness”. I discussed it with my mom and we made an appointment with my doctor. Being so young, I couldn’t really explain how I felt besides the fact that I wasn’t my “happy old self” anymore and that some things that I once found exciting no longer excited me. That was the beginning of my depression. After years of many ups and downs and medication roller coasters, alcoholism, and compulsively spending, I decided it was time to advocate for myself- for the sake of myself, but more so for my children and husband- I decided it was time to research mental health professionals and I found one.

I suffer with Bipolar II, PTSD, anxiety, depression, and OCD. I’d like to make it known, that most of us who suffer with mental illness have inherited it. Most of it is genetic. On top of a childhood with a mentally unstable father and suffering with mental illness, I lost my husband to cancer, so I also grieve. Grief can make you mentally and physically ill. That’s not it. I was diagnosed (again, genetically) with endometriosis at the age of 32. I was forced to have a hysterectomy. If you know anything about female hormones and how they affect you, you know know that I was really dealing with some serious issues. Mentally and physically, I was sick. I felt like I was losing my mind. I felt like I was a waste of a human being. I knew that cycle had to end.

My blog is called Breaking the Cycle because I truly believe that once you can accept your season and move past it, you can heal from it. Some seasons will suck the life right out of you and some are beautiful. If you’re ready for healing, it’s so easy to pick out lessons that even your worst of seasons can teach you. My season of advocating for myself is here. I’m going to share my life’s seasons with you and what I’ve learned through them. I’m going to prove that the cycle of mental health doesn’t have to define you- even with a plethora of pills sitting on my nightstand that I have to take daily to stay on top of my mental health- I will be ok.

Stay tuned.

  1. Love you! Glad you came into my life for the short 1.5 years, we spent together when you lived near me. I loved our chats and bond. I am proud of you. I will treasure the times we had.

    Like

  2. I miss you dearly , we lived down the street from each other. I miss out talks, wine and those beautiful children ❤️

    Like

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