What’s meant for you will always find you…

✨The universe always knows exactly what she is doing.

❌I’ve wanted to quit more in the past week, than ever before. Quit therapy, quit writing, just quit…

And then today, I got this message.

You know life is so unpredictable and there are times I think I’m doing so great and then out of thin air this dark cloud presents itself and it’s always hell to get it to disappear.

I’ve been wearing my best of smiles lately only to avoid being asked if everything is okay. Something about that damn question that gets me every time. So I just pretend and hope reality catches up

And I usually write to dump out all the feelings because I kinda suck at verbally expressing them but lately I couldn’t even bring myself to do that…

And then I got this message… and I just cried quietly to myself.

When something is meant for you, it will always find you.

It will find you in your brightest moments and your darkest corners.

It’ll celebrate your highest highs, and pick you up during your lowest lows…
✨✨
Thanks B, though you reached out to let me know how I’ve helped you-you didn’t even realize how much you were helping me. I love you 🤍
✨✨

Just keep swimming friends
Never stop writing ✍🏾

As Mental Health Awareness Month is coming to an end…

I pride myself on being an amazing mother, partner, family member, friend, human being etc.-and here’s why…

There was a point in my life where I was more angry than sad. I was sad because I was so depressed and i was angry because I truly felt like no one gave a shit. So much so that I tried to take my own life (this was years ago) and I wrote a suicide note, and turns out I kept it.
I’ll be honest I didn’t even know I kept it until I stumbled upon it yesterday digging through old journals.

And so I sat down and read it- I bawled. Y’all, I was so angry back then.
It broke my heart to read a letter I left behind for people who knew me and yet it was filled with so much anger and then there was part for Kannen and I told him that despite what anyone tried to tell him, his momma loved him.

Reading a note that was telling my son goodbye- whew, that hit different and it just…
It just really broke my heart.

My point being that as #mentalhealthawarenessmonth comes to an end, I want my family, my friends, other human beings, etc. – I just want you to know I care, I’ll always care- even when I say I don’t…I do.

I will be your vault, your shoulder to cry on, your person, your safe space-I will be what you need in the moment you need it the most.

It’s important that we remind those that we love just how much we love them.
You never know what people are going through.

I love you guys with everything I have and then some.

✨🖤✨

on the days i miss her most

I can remember watching my mom take off her wig at the end of some days and how she’d just stare at her reflection.

Of course being as young as I was I didn’t understand fully what breast cancer was doing to her or why she had to put her hair on her head

But what I do remember was thinking how beautiful she looked when she stood there-bare and exposed.

How I wish I could travel back to that exact moment as the adult I am now and just hug her-and thank her for indirectly teaching me to love the bare and exposed parts of myself

For those parts are where the hidden meanings are waiting to be found…

Podcast Episode 3-An Angels Ascent

Recording this poem was very special to me.

I wrote, An Angels Ascent for my Godmother, Tammy Boast. She passed away this past January and because of my knee injury I was not able to travel and attend her funeral.

So in recording this, part of me went back to the day of her funeral and read her this poem. My final goodbye to her. She was such an amazing person and I feel like doing this has peacefully closed our chapter. The healing can start.

just thoughts

to be the inanimate object that resembles your love

the smell of coffee brings back memories of you staying a little longer

what undiscovered treasures live right under our noses

x marked the spot where i met you

and your hand brushed against mine

time-there’s never enough

or maybe there’s too much

the ocean lives in your eyes

and not a day passes by that i don’t want to dive into you

and not a day goes by that i don’t drown in all that you are

cries of heartache were only described sounds until i met you

something like the scary stories you tell a child to keep them weary of monsters until those very same monsters rob them of their innocence

in a sense i knew you long before i met you

in other ways its like I never knew you at all

x marked the spot where i met you

i fear ex will mark the spot where we fall

An Angels Ascent

If tears must fall let them not be for granted, let them be in celebration

For my body no longer stumbles through dark valleys, there are no more complications

My soul lies in these o so green pastures, at the very top of the hill

I am where the waves no longer crash but instead where the waters are still

Let our memories dismantle your anger

Let our love console your grief

Let our laughs keep you warm at night

And that is what will bring me peace

Focus not on the battle I lost there, but on the war I won here

And though my eyes have closed, the world has never been so clear

The sky has never been so blue

The earth has never felt so soft

Think of me as the angel you’ve gained, not the loved one you lost

When you miss me call on your Father

Pour into him your overflow of me

Think not about what we missed

But be filled on what we did see

As these clouds begin to open and I begin to soar

Know that these wings carry me comfortably 

And I am in pain, no more

death.

Death came knocking at my door again

No, not for me

But still it came, uninvited and unwanted

Unexpected

As it had come so many times before, I knew it’s knock

A knock you never expect until it is already pounding at your doorstep

Catapulting you into a reality that no matter how many times you’ve been before, still it takes your breath away

We are on a first name basis

No formalities

Candice, you know the drill

There I stand in NOT sadness, but pure hatred

You sick son of a bitch

When will it be my turn

Why do you insist I be in your audience only to witness your disgusting performance

The screams I am begging to stay buried leave no room for grief

I am angry

I am livid

Is this your idea of grief

Is this a part of your sick and twisted humor

All emotions but the one I need

Angry because I’m guilty

Guilt that my anger leaves no room to grieve

Lonely because I refuse to be consoled

And in this toxic circle there I sit

Bargaining with death

But he’s already gone

Just as quick as he came, he left even quicker

Leaving me with nothing but our memories and the future plans we made

He didn’t come for me but I feel him all the same

p•m•s

How’d you sleep last night? •I didn’t.

Are you having any thoughts of harming yourself? •Do I strike you as an individual who would harm herself?

Do I look like I need help?

Tell me how should I dress my anxiety.

And does PTSD come in plus sizes?

Do I look like I’ve been up all night fighting a war that I never signed up to fight in?

Is my depression showing again?

It likes to hog the spotlight.

Every corner I bury myself in, no matter how deep, my depression digs it’s way out.

My best friends are the worst, though it is them who I turn to, to ensure I am alone.

My anxiety knows no one will ever love me like she does, therefore she tightens her grip when I try to speak.

There is no place that I can hide where they can not find me

And how do I fix my lips to tell them to leave me alone

How do i abandon the only two friends who have stuck by me no matter how hard I’ve tried to push them away

My depression is the sentence that I was born to serve and every time I think about trying to break free, my anxiety reminds me that no one will love me like she does

Where else will I find love that unbinds me in ways I could never explain

She keeps her hand near my mouth, in hopes I don’t say the wrong thing and when she screws up

My depression is there for damage control making sure I am hidden while I can swim in my own defeat, leaving me to drown in my own puddle of mistakes

Pardon my symptoms, they tend to speak out of turn but to answer your question…

No I don’t feel like killing myself today.

The Baby I Keep In A Pink Booksack

Okay, so I don’t have an ACTUAL baby in a booksack. 

No need to bash me in your mom group just yet. 

By the end of this, you’ll understand. Just bear with me as I try to find the words. 

 

Have you ever thought about how you’d react to a bad situation?  

What if it started as a good situation? 

I never expected to be so incredibly hurt in a situation where it started off as nothing but excitement and joy. 

 

On November 3rd, 2018 I miscarried my daughter, Kennedi Rose Chenier. To this day it still remains as one of the most devastating things to ever happen to me. That experience started off as something so beautiful. So hopeful. “You are pregnant”, I had been home from a two week stay at a mental health institution for about four days (another story for another day) and after feeling horrible for all of those days I went to the hospital and those were the words the doctor greeted me with. It was the happiest I had felt in a long time. I also thought that maybe being pregnant is part of the reason I had a mental breakdown. 

 

I had to wait about a month before I could get in to see my doctor and when that day finally came, I had no idea it would be the beginning of the end. The months that followed were filled with more blood tests that I ever knew my body was capable of. I know that there were steps in between but in my mind it went from being too early in the pregnancy to see anything to “you’ve miscarried”. And I heard the words, I did, but I held on to the hope that maybe I would still give birth up until the very day I knew for sure I wouldn’t be giving birth any time soon. 

 

I still remember what I was doing when it happened. I was outside waiting for pizza to be delivered. Pizza. In one moment my mouth was watering as the Pizza Hut delivery driver was driving up and then in the next, I am fighting back tears hoping he hurries up before the blood leaking from my vagina reaches the concrete. You know, I have no idea what happened to that pizza now that I think about it. That night was, o man, it was a memorable night. So memorable that when I was at the same hospital a few days ago, I stared at the exact spot on the parking lot where I passed out and bled before Sarah could come back with help to get me up off the ground (yet another story for another day). It was a night I sometimes fight to forget but it is painfully etched into my soul. Mine forever. 

 

I returned home after two days in the hospital. Part of me didn’t want to leave. I still have trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I went to the hospital with a baby, or the idea of a baby, and I came home with nothing. I was so EMPTY. 

 

The hospital sent me home with so many things. There was a stuffed animal, an angel keychain, numbers to multiple organizations, etc. A couple of my friends had bought me some different things as well, things like relaxing bath salts, books that would help me through the grieving process. I don’t think they’ll ever know how thankful I am for them. Seriously, no matter how many days go by, I will forever love you. And I was thankful I really was but when I got home, I noticed something. I had what kind of looked like the box of things the hospital sends you home with once you are discharged with your brand new baby but in this story, my box only reminded me of the baby I would never meet. 

 

It stayed in the corner of my bedroom for quite some time. A box filled with gifts, grief counselors information, a onesie I had bought, my crushed soul, among many other things and every time I looked at it, I thought about the daughter I’d never bond with. The daughter I’d never teach all the things I learned on my own. My heart broke all over again each time my eyes fell on its appearance. 

 

Enter the pink booksack. A week had passed and I had had enough. I was home alone and I became enraged. I started crying and throwing things while searching for anything that I could make that box of things disappear into. I stuffed all the papers, books, gifts, all of it into a pink booksack. I was so angry. There was nothing anyone could tell me that could’ve helped me. I had lost my child and I started to question how many things I would have to lose in my life before the universe decided to give me a break. I was broken. 

 

That booksack sat in the back of my closet for months. Out of sight, out of mind they say. 

During these months I found out I was pregnant again with my now almost five month old beautiful rainbow baby girl. I think finding out I was pregnant again gave me an out to not have to think about the gut wrenching loss I had experienced months before. I guess I thought things were normal again until the day came where I knew for sure things were definitely NOT NORMAL. 

 

I’m not sure what led up to this particular moment, but whatever the reason it led my son to my closet digging for some toy I’m sure. However it wasn’t a toy he dragged out of my closet five months into my pregnancy, it was the PINK BOOKSACK. That damn booksack

 

I completely lost it.

 

All these emotions that I had no idea were still using my body as storage surfaced when I saw that booksack. I screamed at my son to stop unzipping it immediately, as if fully unzipping the booksack would destroy us all. I told him to zip it back up and put it back in the closet EXACTLY where he found it. His face, I will never forget his face. While he returned the booksack so many thoughts ran across my mind. 

 

Such as

  • I just screamed at my son for no reason, at least not a reason he has anything to do with. 
  • I had lost a child
  • I have not dealt with this loss 
  • I stuffed my feelings and the memory of my child into a booksack and then stuffed the booksack in the closet
  • I lost a child
  • I lost a child
  • I lost a child

 

All that time that had passed and I thought I was over it, when really all I had done was put my child in a booksack.

I ran to my room to meet my son who was quietly trying to put the booksack back where he got it. I grabbed him, I hugged him, I apologized, and then we cried together. 

 

I still have the booksack and it still sits in the back of my closet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to unzip it. 
IMG-7692