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The Birth of Fleur de Lis Speaks

On January 9, 2018, life came crashing into me out of nowhere and rocked me to my core. Literally. I was hit from behind in a motor vehicle accident on my way to work that morning, sustained a concussion, and a traumatic brain injury. And I haven't been the same since... It's crazy hard. To type. To read. To accept. To share with the world. But, it's true. Honest. Transparent. MY Reality.


And I had to figure something out. FAST. My life was falling apart at warp speed and I had no clue how to even begin to pull myself back together. And without realizing that I'd be learning a lesson about anything, I set out to adjust just a little : how I saw myself, how I loved myself, and how I took care of myself, because I knew I'd been doing a pretty poor job of it for so long. And because now, I had the time. And because if I didn't set aside some of that time for myself every single day, that time would be devoured by tasks and appointments and obligations and cooking and carpooling and cleaning and mom-ing and wife-ing and friend-ing and 'who knows what else-ing.' 


I set out to do one thing for myself every day: to honor and nourish myself by writing a self- care note. That's it. Five minutes. Just one little note- and I'd post it on Instagram for accountability because otherwise I'd find any reason not to write that note and because I knew the "InstaThugs" would totally call me out on it if I didn't. #eyeroll The more notes I shared, the more comments, DMs, and emails I received from people I'd never met. Sharing their whole life stories, their hurts, their struggles with mental health, their failed friendships, their marriages that were coming to an end, their childhood traumas and the paralyzing guilt that came with attempting to prioritize themselves and to practice self- care. 


And I realized now, more than I ever had in my career as a mental health professional, that people are out here HURTING, y'all. They are walking around carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, with smiles plastered across their perfectly "beat" faces and the cheeriest "Have a blessed day-s"  you will ever hear. But they are struggling with their kids and their spouses and their jobs and their finances and their physical, mental, and emotional health and the disconnect between their hopes and dreams and their current realities. The difference between what they thought their lives would be and what it really is. The difference between what they thought they wanted and what they actually got. The difference between what they prayed and cried out to God for, and what they are currently experiencing. The fact that the gift they so desperately craved, arrived from Amazon on their front doorstep, not in the customized gift- wrapping they'd paid for and expected, but in the beaten up, tattered, brown cardboard box that looked like it's been through some thangs. #forreal


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