Good morning Lovely SteemPuffs!
I was just thinking about the last post and wanted to go into more detail about the purpose of the 3 "No's" and why that is important.
The overall goal is not only to build the confidence and courage to start grabbing the life you want through knowing and appreciating yourself, but the second "No" (KNOW your Self Worth) is an especially crucial part to building mental strength.
We need that mental armor that says: "Regardless of what I've been through in the past, and what I'm going through right now, I am important, I'm special and I'm going to be ok. -In fact, more than just 'ok' I am going to THRIVE!"
Why do we need Mental Strength, and why do I think I'm such an expert on the topic.
Well here's where it gets a little sob story-ish.
I know some of you may already be thinking: "boy she sounds preachy" or
"quit telling me what to do, you ain't my mama!" With official neck roll and everything. Lol
Here's my thing.
Even though I've been through so much, as I will detail shortly, I am so passionate about people. I care about everyone.
...I may not LIKE everyone and some people I may find irritating as HELL. But at the end of the day that does not stop me from sincerely loving them. Idk why, call it a mission, call it God, call it Divine Purpose. idfk. Call it whatever you want.
There's a drive in me, not because I think I know everything or think I'm better than anyone, I'm quite humble actually.
It's only because I care about this world, and I know there are people suffering and going through stuff they either have no idea how to handle, don't feel like anyone would understand, or too ashamed to share in the first place.
If I can help by sharing my stories and things I've learned in order to help others avoid the same mistakes I've made, and other major pitfalls in life, then I'm happy.
Additionally if I can make any contribution to creating a culture of kindness and love in the world, I would be over the moon!
Ok so here's my sob story.
Don't take offense to me calling it a "sob story"
I think everyone should share their stories, whether happy or sad. I just don't want you to think I have any hidden motive to sharing this with y'all.
I have lost a loved one almost every decade since I've been born. I lost my sister to SIDS in the 80's. I was not even four, but I always remembered having a sister, and I desperately missed her. I remembered what she looked like when she died, being homeless with my mom and staying at the Salvation Army and later moving in with my granny and aunt, but I didn't find out about my mom's nervous breakdown in the midst of all this until I became an adult.
I lost my grandfather and my father -whom I only met once in my life when I was 18- in the 90's. My father was obviously too busy raising his other 12 kids to bother with me, even though he most certainly lived less than 45 minutes away from my mom and I for the majority of my life.
So, for many years it was just my mom and I, at least after I moved back with her in 1988. Oakland CA -and on a street that I would continue to endure various amounts of pain, shame and suffering: 23rd Avenue.
More commonly known as the "Twomps" or "Murder Dubs" since it was at the height of the crack epidemic and gang violence. I was molested multiple times on that street. I lost friends, I lost a few pets. I lost focus, I lost hope and I lost my sister on 23rd Avenue.
I definitely had a love/hate relationship with my mother during my teens and early adulthood. We were best friends because we only had each other, yet I was also deeply ashamed of her. Not only because of her appearance and her huge breasts that were literally the size of watermelons, for which of course all the children teased me mercilessly about. But I also blamed her for everything. For my sister dying, us being poor and dirty and the black sheep of our own family. I especially blamed her for all the shiznit that happened to me.
I hated her, and if I'm completely honest I not only thought about killing myself, but her too. I just had to think of a place to hide the body. She was a large woman after all.
Seriously, that's how I thought as a preteen. I was so miserable and unhappy, so I started to project my anger and hatred outwardly upon others. Starting with my mother. I know some people say "I'm gonna kill him for what he did" and MOST of the time people mean it as a figure of speech, Or these days as a sick and twisted form of "Trollertainment". (Cruel)
I, on the other hand was completely serious. I thought MY life would be easier without her blocking my way and holding me down.
Ironically I had one of my first major epiphanies when I was around 9 years old - before the homicidal and suicidal thoughts set in.
I wrote it in the form of a poem about the Ghetto not being an actual place but a state of mind. I realized I did not have to be a certain type of way just because my environment was like this.
"This" being my alcoholic mother who often unknowingly left me as a wide open sexual target for her male friends. A dirty, filthy house with barely any food and more often in the dark because our lights had been cut off again. A place with more roaches than rats -but still, we were always somebody's charity case and I was completely embarrassed. I didn't understand why mom couldn't keep it together. Plus, I wasn't taught how to care for myself as a woman, hygiene, make up or how to take pride in my appearance, how to drive a car, or how to protect myself and stand up for myself.
Of course my mom loved me and told me often, but she was so devastated over the loss of my sister, that she honestly never recovered, she instead turned to alcohol, cigarettes and men to fill the voids.
By age fourteen, I guess I had had enough, and started subconsciously searching for change.
My mom may have been the one bringing in the food stamps, but I was the one who did most of the cooking and cleaning and pushing home a cart full of groceries from the nearest Lucky's -a 45 min walk away. It was also the age where I revealed to my mom one of the men who was molesting me. And I became Mormon. Now that I think of it. 1994 was a big year for me.
I unknowingly was about to begin a spiritual journey that would last 18 years. Seven years with the Mormons, 11 years in another church.
Being LDS there was definitely a dualism. Church was like heaven, going back home was hell. I was getting horrible grades in school, I ran away from home -for real this time. ( My first attempt @ 9 was cute though) I dropped out of school and was still in a bunch of cycles I did not know how to break.
When I was 18, I eventually stumbled upon JobCorps and enrolled in the Culinary Program (My mom can't cook y'alI) Came back with a Culinary Arts certificate and a HS diploma, also thinking I was gay. Came out to my family too... I eventually changed my mind and made a big speech and everything. (Btw I would NEVER say homosexuality "is just a phase" absolutely not. This is just my story.)
Turns out I hated men so much at the time, because I was hurting so deeply on the inside.
I wasn't being real with myself. Since my tendency was to run away from my problems, instead of facing them head on,
I thought I could run away from the pain inflicted upon me from men, by being with a woman.
I was wrong.
B#tch drove me crazy for almost 2 years and I've been straight ever since.
By 2004, I was with a new church now, Mom and I moved 30 minutes away from the -then ghetto- now becoming upscale Oakland to Hayward. Man, we felt like The Jeffersons (Google them lol) like we had moved up to bigger and better things.
By the early 2010's mom and I were on the upswing, she knew everything I had been through.
I learned to forgive, I also sought her forgiveness, and I realized parents are NOT perfect.
They do the best they can with what they have at that time. Despite everything that has happened -I firmly believe that.
2014 brought something different. By this time my mom had fully rehabilitated from two tracheotomies, going from not eating or talking to fully eating and speaking again. She had been in a few nursing homes and a sub-acute for outpatient care. Since the four heart attacks mom had in '98, her health had been touch and go- in and out of the hospital, but somehow she always bounced back. Even though the doctors often gave her "a year to live" and other limited time frames since 2009.
April 2014 Mom's tracheotomy tube was replaced to reduce infection, and something was different. She didn't seem to have that feisty will to fight back. I found out from the doctor that she had hundreds of small strokes likely over the course of her life. This already in addition to being at renal and heart failure, COPD and advanced lung disease.
I was heartbroken. This was my best friend. Sure we had our ups and downs, but Mom was always there, and I could always come back home. Mom was really the only person in the world who cared enough about me to have my back no matter what. Even when I was acting like a spoiled demon brat.
Enter May 2014
I made the hardest decision I ever had to make in my life to date. I wish it upon no one.
After 16 years of my Mom struggling with severe health issues, being in and out of the hospital, multiple vital organs at failure or severe disease- it was time to take her of life support. I counseled with the doctors, I prayed, I pleaded.
Every medical decision was like a knife to the chest. Signing her DNR, Dialysis or no?
My mom and I were closer than ever at this point, and now she couldn't talk anymore. She couldn't eat or breathe on her own, or do her favorite puzzles. When she was rehabilitating from the tracheotomies a few years earlier, she could at least write when she was unable to talk, and still had tons of life and personality back then. But now, all of that was gone. My mom was like a vegetable. I know she would not have wanted to be like that for the next 20 years.
(Btw Please make advance directives with your loved ones. It's hard and no one want to talk about death but you will have peace when it's planned out ahead of time.)
I wish my mom would have lived at least another 100 years. It's actually painful to write this without her here. She so wanted to write a book and tell her story.
After Mom's passing, I actually continue to learn from her.
My eyes are opened even more to how much she truly loves me.
I couldn't see it when I was younger, because I was so blinded by hatred, selfishness or self-centered thoughts.
Mom didn't give me anything fancy or teach me how to drive (I went to driving school)
But she gave me love.
She always allowed me to choose on my own who I wanted to be.
So Lovely SteemPuffs~ That's why I'm here on Steemit!
This is what I feel makes me an Expert on mental strength. I've been through a lot of $hit, I've loved, I've lost, and lost and lost again. This is only part of my story. I'm sure others have been through even worse.
What separates me immediately is that despite my past, everyday I choose to be happy.
Why? Because it's my choice and it's one of the few things I have complete control over in life- My disposition, how I handle things, and treat others, how I act and react and my mental outlook.
I refused from early on to be the archetype of the Bitter Black Woman. (Another type of BBW & I ain't even know it! lol)
I refuse to let my ghetto upbringing be my master teacher. I think it's important to never forget where you come from, to embrace it, because it does shape you, however to succumb to a certain type of lifestyle or mindset just because "I'm from the ghetto" is no bueno. As I mentioned in my first post one of the greatest goals we can reach for is to be the best version of ourselves.
Lets' start with increasing our mental strength - our mental capacity to handle life's curves and refusing to buckle.
Part Deux - Controlling our thoughts coming up next!
I'm here to support and help you however I can.
Feel free to drop me a note if there's a topic you'd like me to address or give advice on!
Love ya's! Mean it!
