I arrived in the world on a Friday afternoon in August of 1966.  First grandchild on both sides of the family.  Was I a little spoiled?  Yes, but just a little!  I was also the first of three girls.  Me in 1966, Cindy in 1969, and Alicia in 1972.  Momma was a stay-at-home mom until Alicia began High School.  Daddy worked hard to support all of us, but he played hard too – bowling, softball, golf.  He was gone more than he was home which made momma the disciplinarian in the family as well.

We lived a simple life but never knew we were poor.  Birthdays and Christmases consisted of home cooked meals and cakes.  Presents were homemade clothes (momma was a gifted seamstress) and a toy that all three girls could share.  One year for Christmas, we each got a tin of homemade cookies, but as I stated earlier, we didn’t know we were poor.  

That all changed for me in first grade.  I do not know how they managed it, but I attended parochial school for first and second grade (when Cindy was old enough to attend, they could not afford private education for both of us, so I was transferred to public school) – mass every morning, strict uniform code, nuns for teachers.  I carried a sack lunch every day but one day Momma gave me money to buy my lunch.  What a treat!  The nuns were collecting for some charity that same day, so I gave them the change from lunch.  When I got home, Momma asked for the change.  “I gave it to Sister X” thinking she would be proud that I was generous.  Instead, I was brought to tears by her verbal tirade. “We can’t afford to give our money away!”  The worst part, however, was going to school the next day and asking for the change to be returned.  Now, both Momma and the nuns were mad at me.  All I felt was shame and humiliation, emotions I have never experienced before.  Unbeknownst to me, a heart bondage was placed by the enemy, and I would never be the same.

More shame followed in public school – other kids made fun of my homemade clothes, Big K shoes, and even being in the government lunch program.  One day I was sent home with a science experiment to complete.  Momma saw the “supply” list and wrote a letter to my teacher stating that we could not afford to buy the ingredients – basically, that I was entitled to a free education.  Another teacher that I could not look in the eye.  My shame and humiliation were now joined by low self-esteem and a feeling of isolation.

These feelings were reinforced over the years as my “poverty” was revealed:

• You have musical tendencies and should play an instrument. / Can’t afford the instrument
• Invite to a birthday party. / Can’t afford a present
• School trip to Washington DC. / Can’t afford the bus, the hotel, the food, the exhibits
• Why is your hair greasy? / Can’t afford to wash my hair every day

It was also about this time (late elementary, early middle school) that I became aware of momma’s mental issues (she would be diagnosed as Bi-Polar today but back then it was labeled manic-depressive).  She was up or down, and her downs were bad – rage, aggression, non-stop crying, verbal abuse and occasional physical abuse (by today’s standards).  We never knew which version of momma would wake up, but I learned early on to be the “good” daughter.  I studied hard, got all A’s, did my chores before asked, and learned to make myself invisible by immersing myself in books.  I did not want her attention on a down day but unfortunately, the isolation brought on by being invisible meant that I did not get any attention on her up days as well.

Skip a few years and I am now a freshman at the University of Rochester in Rochester NY (I picked the school farthest from home, with the biggest scholarship).  Freedom!   Everything was great until I tried to register for my sophomore year – there was a balance due on my tuition and I could not register.  The old record of “Can’t afford it” began playing in my head again.  Shame and humiliation became my best friends.  I ended up back home at MTSU for my sophomore year and my grades (and my morals) began to spiral out of control.  I was looking for love and acceptance in all the wrong places trying to drown the “less than” feelings overwhelming my life.  Nothing worked.  Nothing satisfied.

I ended up dropping out of college in the first semester of my junior year when I got sick (a week in the hospital and several weeks at home), got a job, and met my first husband.  In retrospect, I married him more to get out of the house (momma’s downs were getting more frequent and more verbal) than out of true love for him but I gave as much as I could to our marriage and tried to be the best wife I could be.

Our marriage was as good as it could be with two people who did not have God in their lives (I will say that I was raised Catholic and went to mass and Sunday School EVERY week until I was in High School, but I do not recall being taught about a personal relationship with Christ) and were told that they could not have children.  I still felt an emptiness, a feeling of “less than”, that I could not overcome however, that was about to change.  I met a young lady at work who began to talk to me about Jesus during our lunch breaks.  She was so earnest, so peaceful, so confident – I wanted that!!  I needed that!!!  On my birthday in 2000, in the parking lot after work, she prayed with me as I accepted Jesus as my Savior.  I felt loved and accepted.  I started attending a Christian Weight Loss group which led me to attending church with some of the ladies I met.  Everything was wonderful – I felt peace.  I was the best wife I had ever been.  I felt like I belonged.  What I didn’t realize, until the day he left me, was that my husband did not feel the same way.  He said that God had changed me, and I wasn’t the woman he married.  He was leaving me for someone else.  

 Three months later I was divorced.  A month after that my dad suffered a massive stroke and was left paralyzed on the left side.  In my pain, all I saw was that EVERY man in my life (and yes, I saw God as a man) had abandoned me.  “Less than” again.  I kept attending church; however, I remained an avid student of “fake it ‘til you make it.”  

9/11.  Church attendance exploded and my world changed again.  I began to refocus on my relationship and walk with God.  My prayer life improved.  One Wednesday night, I went to the altar and prayed.  I told God that I was going to live for Him.  I did not need a man in my life.  All I needed was God.  I felt His presence and truly believed He had heard my prayer and agreed.  That very same night I met my second husband, David.

David told me that he was a recovering addict, but I had no idea what that meant.  I believed that since I met David at church, it was a God-ordained relationship and that would overcome any obstacles.  We started dating, I got pregnant, got married and had three kids in 5 years.  There were good times – we had three beautiful, healthy children but unfortunately, the bad outweighed the good.  

I had married a narcissist who manipulated all the women is his life – mom, aunts, sister, friends.  I, however, must take some of the blame for the bad.  I was a broken person who truly believed I was “less than”.  I worked extra hard to make sure everyone around me was happy.  My needs and wants were put on the back burner – after all, a good mother and wife had to put her children and husband first.  David and I were together for 16 years and in that time, he was in rehab ½ dozen times, had multiple surgeries (which did nothing to help his addiction issues), and was even arrested for theft (and being the good wife, I bailed him out and paid his fines).  As time passed, I became more tired and more “less than”.

My depression deepened and, just like my mom, I was diagnosed as Bi-Polar.  I went to therapy.  I took the medication.  And I was still “less than”.  The darkness enveloped me, and I truly began to believe that my family would be better off without me.  One Saturday morning in May 2016, I ingested almost 20 Lortab in the hope that I would finally be overcome by that darkness.  I almost died that night and was committed to a mental institution for 10 days.  It was during those 10 days that God, one of the “men” who I believed had abandoned me, met me there.  Do you know what happens when God meets you in the darkness?  Worst meets best and the light fights for you.  Light envelops you. Light penetrates you.  Light warms you. And light loves you.

I wish I could say that I was cured.  I knew God loved me. but I still had no idea how to truly overcome the “less than.”  Those thoughts were still running on repeat in my head, still held me captive and were always ready to overpower the peace and joy that I felt I should have.

I was managing my thoughts by sheer will when the world changed again.  

• January 2018, my father passed
• February 2018, David committed suicide
• June 2019, my aunt (who was my second mom) passed
• September 2019, my mom passed (more from a broken heart than anything else – my parents were married over 50 years)
• January 2020, my grandmother passed

In two years, I lost five of the most important people in my life and I was tasked with raising three kids on my own.  I shut down.  I existed.  I did what I had to do to feed and shelter my children.  I honestly don’t even remember most of those years.  I was a shell of a person who knew that if I started crying or feeling, the emotions would overwhelm me and I would collapse, or worse, my children would have two parents who successfully ended their own lives.  I couldn’t do that to them.  They had been through so much already.

Fast forward to 2022 and I moved to Jackson (followed the grandkids!).  I started attending Love & Truth Church where I met Debbie.  I signed up for Instead of Shame, a life group (small group, bible study) aimed at understanding and overcoming heart bondages and God began talking to me again – well, I started listening again.  I knew this was what I needed.  I felt a stirring inside of me – it was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time.  I advanced from Instead of Shame into The Freedom Class which is a 7-step program teaching you how to use the armor of God to break free of the heart bondage through emotional and spiritual growth.  Everything was going well until step 5 – Trust.  I could not Trust God.  He was a “man”.  He abandoned me.  I could not open that door.  I just couldn’t do it.  I let “less than” win again.

A year passed and God is still nudging me.  I signed up for Instead of Shame and The Freedom Class again and on October 18 of 2025, I sat in my bedroom and told God that I was ready.  I recognized, and finally admitted to myself, my way of doing things wasn’t working.  I could either go back into the cycle of dysfunction and feelings of “less than” or I could let God take over.  I was going to TRUST Him and believe everything the Bible stated about His character and everything the Bible said about me.  When I physically said the words “God, I trust you” our loud, I opened my mouth and spewed out a non-verbal primal scream of rage, hate, fear, pain (I am in tears now just writing these words) – all the “less than” was released and I felt a physical “pop” inside me.  The heart bondage broke, the chains (I actually saw them as bricks around my heart) fell off and I was FREE!!!!!!

Peace and hope flooded in and filled every empty space occupied by the bricks that had surrounded my heart for so many years.  I knew without a doubt I was a child of God, I was loved, I had never been abandoned, and I would be a Kingdom builder for the rest of my life.  I would live my life for Him with reckless abandonment and total commitment.

I wrote this poem while in the hospital after my suicide attempt.  It is as true then as now and I see the walls that surrounded me and how God broke those walls with His grace, His mercy, His power, and His love.

Blind Eye

Looking out my window

To the right, I see

Reddish brown rectangle

Made by human hands

Solid, unyielding, upright

To the left, I see

Emerald green variety

Reflecting sunlight

Gentle, wind blown

Made by heavenly hands

Institution versus creation

I had forgotten my beginning

But my memory returns

And I choose to see creation

And turn a blind eye to institution