Keep Going

Adolescence, a confusing period when themes of self-worth and belonging are consuming. No doubt, navigating through the awkward phase can be messy. Imagine having to grow up under the lens of social media where all things are magnified; yeah, no thanks. I had a hard enough time on my own; I can’t imagine having social media as a guide to highlight all the areas I fell short.

Lately, many of the conversations I am having are leading to mental health. In particular, teenagers suffer from depression, social anxiety, thoughts of suicide, and a general feeling of hopelessness. Parents on edge worried sick over the welfare of their babies. Seriously, is anyone else alarmed? W.T.F.? Why are so many kids struggling with mental health?

I am at a loss and feeling restless over it, causing a block; the words are not flowing this week. I decided to put the pen down and turn my attention to a task that always brings me clarity —organizing my home. Room by room, decluttering, rearranging, recycling artwork, and refurbishing furniture. Swapping a pen for a paintbrush —I take tired pieces of furniture and apply heavy paint strokes to infuse new life. Standing back, admiring my work, well, look at that, I fixed you right up with a bit of love and attention—it is gratifying. The simple act of sanding and painting allows me the headspace to hone into my internal dialogue; What is my purpose? What do I want? And how the heck am I going to get there?

My inner being always answers; discover ways to give back, leave a mark, make a positive impact in the lives of others, give freely of my time and energy, use my words to encourage, reach back and lift others, do all things with purpose.

Giving Back

In my late teens, my first volunteer gig was to work in a woman’s shelter. Working in the child center playing with little ones and dolling out lots of squeezes, ah, those little faces, brought me enormous joy. Immediately hooked, I credit volunteer work for changing the trajectory of my life. Helping others provided the exit ramp that I desperately needed to reframe my story. I was getting way too comfortable with boohoo, poor me stories; I got robbed of my childhood, I didn’t have the opportunities my peers had, I didn’t look like my barbie friends, you name it, I argued for my limitations. Redirecting my energy, getting outside my head, and having a positive impact on someone else’s life was precisely the mind shift I needed. I learned a valuable lesson, no matter how bad things are in my life, there is always someone who has it worse.

My Diary

Organizing my house led me to a stack of boxes that had not been open in years. Boxes with multiple stickers that offer clues to the many corporate moves. Most packages belong to my hubby; he has attachment issues, not me; I give it away if I don’t use it. I am not interested in carrying the excess baggage. I see the one box marked ‘childhood,’ my internal dialogue kicks in; ok, young Mic, let’s open you up, what are you hanging on to? I discover old pictures, postcards, a yearbook from middle school, a poem book from my E.S.L. days, and a Hello Kitty diary. Hey, looky here, proof that I have been a girl with a pen (confessing my truths) most of my life. Leafing through my journal exposed wounds that I thought had healed entirely. It took me by surprise, the heaviness that overcame me as I read my words. Scars that I spent a lot of time in the hot seat(therapist chair) working out. I guess some wounds cut deep.

The dots start to connect; ah, no wonder I get a pit in my stomach when friends share stories of struggling kiddos; they describe me at that age—hearing their stories caused a block. And yet, my attempt at avoiding writing about it led me right to this moment, sitting on the floor, unpacking emotions from my past. Once again, I am amazed at how the universe orchestrates precisely what is needed. For me, this moment is prodding me to release what I have kept in a box tucked away in the attic of my soul. And then it happens, an idea with greater purpose is born.

Mi Familia

I have a wonderfully big and complicated family. What most don’t know is that life has not always been easy; there was a time when our entire house came crumbling down. The struggle was real for many years, and sorting through the rubble was painful. So yes, my family is refurbished; we had to rebuild using broken pieces. Old paint (moments) had to be stripped, and collectively we chose to paint our ‘new’ home with colors of hope and forgiveness. Mainly, we decided not to let our past define us; the only way to do this was to forgive our parents and accept that they did the best they could (even if their best was not our version of the best). Our new foundation is solid; there are occasional leaks in the roof, but we mostly live meaningful and beautiful lives.

Domino Effect

My father was the culprit, his decision to check out was the first domino to drop, and just like that, one by one, all the domino pieces fell, one wrong decision after another, led to the big crash. My mom struggled to grasp the daunting reality — left to raise six children independently, financially bankrupt, life changed drastically. We took great strides to appear normal, but our home life was miserable behind closed doors. I hated life and was angry with both my parents. That anger brewed, and I coped by withdrawing. I wanted to disappear. Depression and anxiety were not words used in those days, yet reading my diary, it is clear that I was suffering from it.

In retrospect, I now understand my mom also suffered from depression and a broken heart. After many long months of living in darkness, my mom had an awakening and flipped the narrative from a wounded bird to an eagle. She took an hourly position and worked overtime, barely earning enough to keep a roof over our head and food on the table. She was physically and mentally exhausted. I am sure there were days she wanted to tap out and perhaps even a little jealous that my dad somehow could quit adulting. But my mom never quit, she never bailed, she provided modestly and saved us.

I learned to survive in a dark space, and although I was never alone, I was incredibly lonely. I withdrew by going silent, blending in, and getting lost in the crowd. No one noticed my sadness; I became voiceless, which equated to not belonging and not mattering; I didn’t exist.

Reading through my diary, I can’t help but feel a little sad. I wish someone had told me; listen, I get it; life sucks at the minute. It’s not fair, I am not sure why this is happening, but it is; hang on, don’t give up; life will get better because you will make it better. You did not choose your roots, but you, my dear, have a trunk that is stronger than any storm. Stand tall, be brave; you will grow new branches and make life magnificent. Head up, buttercup, no matter what, don’t stop, keep going.

Time Out

Hold the front door; to be clear, I don’t use my past as a crutch. And my family and I are not interested in pity. I am sharing this with you to offer a glimpse of my launching pad. If it weren’t for our yesterdays, my family would not be here today, and today our grateful meter works overtime, with acts of kindness and compassion for others. We know all too well how quickly a house can come down, so we practice less judgment and more love. We use our past to fuel us and protect our happiness at all costs. Hence, why we celebrate life in significant ways and why we don’t let disagreements derail us. Honestly, we are half-glass full kind of peeps; we don’t scare easily; we can do hard things, and no matter what, we keep going.

Reframing My Past

Sitting on the floor with my diary got me thinking, how can I, a girl with a pen, use my words to make a positive impact? How can I use my resources to reach those who need to hear it most? How can I get kids struggling to spend a little less time focusing on their feelings and a little more time doing acts of service for those in need? How do I spread the message, I see you, the shit you are going through is temporary, you matter, your story matters, don’t stop, keep going.

My Dream Catcher

My dream catcher is gigantic! ToGETherJOY is a place to listen, learn, share, grow and illuminate. A sorority, if you will, of like-minded chicks who kick ass in the human category (aka an all-inclusive girl gang). My focus has been on adult women, but recently I realized I need to expose young girls to my message, which is the polar opposite of what society and social media spew out.

Girl, you belong with us. What are the requirements, you ask? It is not your looks or coolness factor; it is not how many followers you have or the labels on your clothes, it’s not your sexuality or your hair color, it is not about your hobbies or interests, Nah we keep it real, are you kind? If the answer is yes, excellent, consider yourself a Keep Going Girl member (KKG).

Keep Going Project

So here is the idea, design inspirational giveaways using Keep Going as the mantra. Recruit volunteers (young people) to help with input, design, and assembly of items (bonus- I get young people to do for others) Identify recipients (think homeless shelters, schools, after-school programs) to benefit from hearing words of encouragement.

I always say that life is made up of in-betweens. For me, my in-betweens have led me here, to a place where I can use compassion as my guiding light. All the chapters of my life are essential to weaving my tapestry. As I look to the future, I am not interested in empty gestures; If I say it, I mean it—I fully intend to leave my mark in this world. After all, my momma did not soar like an eagle to raise a voiceless girl.

Want to F.L.Y. with me?