Choosing to live is not just about surviving—it's about opening the door to peace, joy, and healing, even when you’re not sure it will ever come. There are days when you question if healing is possible, when the weight feels endless and the light too far. But in choosing to stay, you create space for hope, for small moments of calm, for the laugh you didn’t expect, and the breath that reminds you you’re still here. Healing may not come quickly or loudly, but it comes—softly, slowly, in pieces. And in time, peace begins to settle where pain once ruled, and joy quietly returns to places you feared were gone forever.

Each morning breaks with golden light,

The "what ifs" and "if, then" statements of life never seem to fully go away. And if they do, our anxious brains just generate new ones. It's part of who we are—or at least, it's part of who I am. But it doesn't have to be that way. Or at least, it doesn't have to be negative. These thoughts can be positive. They can be motivational or encouraging.

"Keep coming back, it works if you work it, so work it because you're worth it." That's how every single meeting ends each week. Being an anonymous program and organization, it's not always discussed, but in all actuality, it is something everyone struggles with to some extent. Codependency. Everyone has those scary words, and for me, one of them is that c-word. Codependency. According to coda.org, codependency is a "a disease that deteriorates the souls." Joining any sort of recovery program isn't an easy decision, and sticking with it isn't any easier. When I was first introduced to the idea that I was codependent, I was in a little bit of denial. I didn't think I was, but I went ahead and gave the program a chance. I was at a point in my treatment and healing that I felt I didn't have anything to lose and thought, "what could it hurt" if I went. Worst case scenario, I went and it wasn't the right fit and I never go back. But I decided to go. I looked up and did some research on the topic and searched for an open meeting in the area. I found one, which happened to be going on the next day, and I went. It was a room full of strangers and I just sat there in silence while listening to all these other people talk about their journey and where they are in their codependency. I didn't quite believe it was for me at first, but the longer I sat there, the more I started this internal questioning of if I was actually codependent, and for how long I have been codependent. Outside of the meeting, I looked more into the different patterns, and that only confirmed be being codependent. 

I had a much needed day at the river with two good friends. Previously before River day, I’d been off my meds for a bit and wasn’t entirely honest about it. I was still going to therapy, but more so was just processing all the good life changes happening of moving and starting a new job and being superficial about it. They were good things going on. What I didn’t realize or acknowledge was that it was a lot, and even too much, for me to handle at a single given moment. Ending relationships, moving, and starting a new job, all within about a month timeframe, the moving and new job only being two days apart, it was a lot. Good things, but just a lot. Good things, but just a lot. I experienced mania, and then I 

May is mental health awareness month. It’s not always something that’s talked about, and sometimes and to some people it’s even taboo. It’s important though. I’ve had my own personal journey with mental health and it’s been a roller coaster of a ride. I started going to and doing therapy while in high school. I’ve had a number of in patient stays at hospitals and long term, residential facilities. I have a history of self harm behaviors, suicidal ideation and attempts, and a list of diagnoses. I got the most help at a trauma recovery center in San Antonio, a place called Innova. I had my ups and downs while there, as with everywhere else I went. The difference from the others though was that while at Innova was my last severe self harm and attempt to end my life. Monday, May 29 makes a full year

The observing self is a technique used in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, or ACT. It can be described as looking at yourself and the world in a third person, external view, and just accepting what has gone on and what is going on. You don't judge who you are or what you've done or gone through. You just observe and accept. The idea is that you go through all these things in your life, but they don't change who you are. You stay the same. So in comparison, it is like you are a mountain. A mountain goes through all sorts of weather and storms, yet, at the end of the day, it is still a mountain.

Grief is a tricky one. We can be good at dealing with it at times and other times not so much. The anniversaries and birthdays are always some of the hardest days in grief. One of the biggest losses that I have had is losing my sister. She passed in a fatal car accident in 2007. Over the years I started to mourn her loss. It's been weird to me that it was as I was getting older that I even started to grieve and miss her, but come to find out, that is actually a form of grief. Delayed grief. I lost Danika when I was only 4. I didn't know or understand at the time what was going on. It's only been in the past few years that I have actually started to grieve her loss. This year, it started to really hit me as her birthday came up, and I wanted to memorialize her passing in some way. I ended up doing a memorial in my group therapy, where I was surrounded by a group of supportive and caring women and read a poem and letter I had written. I also got a memorial tattoo and, on her birthday, I got a cake and read another little piece of writing while the candle on the cake burned.

Desert Bells are rather unique, and have a unique way of being created. They go through a process of being beaten and buried and become something beautiful and has a melodic sound. The bells have a rough texture on the outside, with dents all over from being hammered. Even with all of the dents and everything that might seem "wrong" with them, they have a very peaceful sound. Similar to the bells, we go through different trials in life. We are beaten and  buried in the different tribulations that come upon us, and we can come out of them and become something beautiful and unique. Personally, I feel throughout my life that I have been poked and prodded and hammered, but I have been able to become something out of all that I have gone through.

No one said life was going to be easy, and no one said that healing was easy either. We all wish it was, or at least I wish it was. It would be so nice to one day, just one day, to not struggle. I wish healing were quick too, but it is the complete opposite. In therapy, it feels like you take so many steps forward and then you seem to backtrack, sometimes to the point that you feel like you can't get back to where you were.

Therapy is hard, and it's not easy to just go get help for it. I have to constantly be reminded by others and myself that healing is not linear, that there are going to be ups and downs. It is definitely has been a roller coaster ride in my own journey of healing, in which I have expressed in this poem, "The Blue Chair", the blue chair resembling the chair that I sit in week after week in my individual therapist's office.

Grief is hard. I’ve off and on over the years have used journaling as a way to help me cope with my daily life stressors and things going on. I recently ventured back into writing poetry as a form of me getting out my feelings. A poem filled with thoughts dealing with my grief of losing someone who played a big role in my life growing up and thoughts towards the one who took his life. Not only did he teach me so much about the game of softball and help grow my love for the game, but he was so supportive and caring, and just a great guy whose life was taken too soon.

I was sitting out at the park just trying to relax from a challenging day. I was there, sitting on a swing, gently swaying back and forth, as I watched as two sweet girls and their dad play on the playground. One of the girls had climbed to the top and slid down the fire pole, sliding down to the ground, and then immediately climbing back up to do it again and again. The other girl wanted to do as her sister was doing, but was afraid, and even started to cry.

I grew up writing and journaling as just a way to both pass time as well as a way to just get my thoughts out and it turned in to a way for me to cope with my struggles, traumas, and trials of life. Mental health and trying to heal and stay healthy is not fun or easy.