Healing Through Resilience
Content warning: This blog discusses sensitive topics such as childhood abuse, sexual assault, substance misuse, mental health challenges, and suicide attempts, which may be distressing for some readers. Please proceed with caution and seek support if needed. If you or someone you know is in crisis, help is available through the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Text or call 988 to connect with a trained, compassionate counselor, available 24/7. Support is free.
Hello there. My name is Brett. I am currently 29 years old and I am located in the KCMO (Kansas City, Mo.) region. My battle with mental health fully began at 13 years old, but in reality… all of the trauma, detrimental impacts, abuse, and neglect began at age 1.5 years old, contributing significantly to the mental health crisis and state I’ve lived in for far too long.
My very first memory as a child began at the young, toddler age of 1.5 years old and left that time stamp to where the beginning of my journey began.
At that point in time, in my very early life, the traumatic memory I experienced that left its mark was when the DFS (Division of Family Services) worker took me out of the arms of my momma, the one person I was solely connected to in my early life. As the DFS worker carried me farther and farther from my mom and her appearance became off in the distance, I was put into a car, buckled into my car seat, and watched my mom fade into the distance.
From the ages of 1.5-4 years old, if I recall correctly, I lived with my grandparents until I was successfully reunited with my momma. I permanently returned to my mom, where we resided with my uncle in his little mobile home. We shared limited space with my mom, my new “step-dad”, my uncle, my brand new baby sister, and myself.
If you caught the quotation marks above when I labeled my “step-dad”, good eye! You see, unfortunately, not all new people in your life who are supposed to be a positive influence and support system as you continue your growth in your childhood are actually of that nature.
From the ages of 4-9 years old, I kept a secret from almost any and everyone in my life who loved and cared for me. All but *one* individual who, in the end, became my survival partner. They put an end to the damaging, highly traumatizing, and forever life-impacting abuse that took place those 5 years of my childhood. One thing that still rings true to this day in all ways of where my life was at in this time-frame, is that my cousin, my best friend, my partner-in-crime, and my safety net did indeed do the utmost incredible thing for me and saved my life. I’m thankful for you every single day… I hope you know that!
Could you ever even fathom that a person who’s supposed to be a good man and a father figure to you would instead night after night, 3-5 times a week, and for almost an entire 5 years of time would instead be sexually assaulting and abusing you?
Unfortunately, this creates permanent damage to your psyche and mental state. You’ll forever feel negatively in some way, shape, or form in the realm of your entire life. It’s not something you can ever forget and the permanent damage it caused has taken its toll in several ways.
After the sexual assault and abuse came to an end, I started to participate in counseling for a decently long period of my childhood, 4th grade until I believe about 6th grade. Sometimes it’s really hard to recall every event from my past. There are a lot of barriers and locked doors inside my head that try and keep me safe.
Throughout my ending years of elementary school and into middle school, life was somewhat kosher. Except, I truly couldn’t tell you exactly what the word “kosher” should reasonably refer to. During those years as I developed into a young teen, I dealt with more negative, traumatic, and emotionally damaging experiences and situations.
My momma, she really did try her best to keep her head leveled, to keep us girls (my oldest sister, my two younger sisters, and me) happy, fed, clothed, and sheltered to the best of her abilities. I recall a lot of pieces of memories during that time of my life where my momma was always, always working hard as heck and busting butt, day in and day out to put food on the table and keep the bills paid. Not only that, she also made sure each and every one of us girls felt loved and wanted. So, I’ll forever give her credit and kudos for that.
The downside of this timespan of my life is that while, yes, she was working hard to stay afloat, keeping us girls in check with our basic needs, and providing love. She also had a downside to her ability to maintain and endure the pressure, stress, and amount of damage she had experienced and suffered herself in life. Which is where I got to fully see the downside of my momma and how she coped. On a day-to-day basis, my mom was either entirely blown out of her mind on narcotic pain medications, high on methamphetamine, and/or drinking quite a bit.
Which is when DFS intervention #2 became a part of the scenario. At either 12 or 13 years old, I did what I thought was the best thing to do in order to protect us girls from my mom’s detrimental coping skills. I, myself, went to a local social worker for the DFS system and reported all of the things currently affecting the lives of my sisters and myself in order to somehow make sure we remained safe. I felt entirely guilty about the way it all took place, but I still believe to this day I did the right thing.
With DFS involved again in my life, my sisters and I were put into custody followed by full-fledged guardianship with my aunt, uncle, and 2 cousins. I lived with them until I aged out of guardianship at 18 years old.
At first, this was a saving grace, but over time it became another negative experience in my life due to my aunt and I having very big, conflicting feelings, emotions, and beliefs. In some ways, I can see where she was coming from, but in other aspects, it was still much more difficult to remain “stable” because of the toxicity of our relationship at the time, the negative feedback I got consistently, and the massive amounts of degradation involved.
In my teens, I’d say about ages 13-15 years old, I finally discovered a way to “cope” with my early childhood in the realm of my sexual trauma. Somehow, some way, in my mindset and twisted up thought processing, it made sense to me to use sex as a coping mechanism. In my head, having sex consistently and being able to achieve the gratification within that aspect of my life meant that what the monster did to me didn’t take away what I should’ve been able to give away myself when I was ready. So, sex became a huge coping mechanism to prove to myself I wasn’t “permanently damaged”.
Mental health can be tough to maintain, it can take its toll drastically, and it might try and convince you that taking an easier route out of this world is the answer, but I promise it’s not.
At age 15 years and 4 months, I got to discover a little bit more than just what the gratification of sex could be as an outcome. A couple positive pregnancy tests switched up the entire game for me. Although teen pregnancy isn’t what most teenagers intend to endure and experience in their young lives, it does indeed happen for many different reasons or due to many different factors that are at play. My unintended pregnancy was due to the high amount of promiscuity I had.
I welcomed a my baby boy at age 16 years. I became a momma for the first of 4 times in my life. Yes, teen motherhood is no joke, and it is a task and newly applied title for yourself that is do-able and possible to succeed in. I managed to be a parent and still conquered high school from the beginning of my sophomore year to my senior year, until I graduated in May 2012.
I moved out on my own and from there, attempted to take on adulthood with the best of my abilities. During the ages of 18 to I’d say about 23 years old, I went through, if I recall correctly, 4 different major relationships and 1 faulty marriage. During all of the tumultuous and rollercoaster riding I endured throughout these relationships, I got to know firsthand what it was like to end up in the middle of several different things that had a negative and huge impact on me in a bad way.
I had to deal with being cheated on, gaslit, narcissism, an alcoholic and also a drug addict relationship experience, and the extremes of mental, emotional, psychological, and the ultimate worst fear, physical abuse.
It all adds up to where the REAL story begins. At age 23 years old, the utmost, worst, entirely gut-wrenching, and biggest mental health crisis started. My 4th child, 3rd son, and final little baby I’d ever give birth to, at 2.5 months old, was physically abused and sustained a broken and displaced thigh bone spiral fracture.
I woke up that morning to a blood-curdling scream from my little boy and inquired to my boyfriend/son’s dad what was going on. His only answer was that my little bitty was just hungry and he was making him a bottle.
After around I’d say a total of 30 minutes or less, my then-boyfriend acted, as much as he could, “startled and concerned” because my baby’s leg wasn’t sitting/laying correctly. After I assessed my son, I buckled him into his car seat, did my best to keep him consoled, and attempted to go to the ER to seek medical attention for him. I had to fight and pursue a physical assault in order to finally gain access to exiting my apartment.
Arriving at the ER, where I was entirely frantic, distraught, and immensely concerned for my little boy, I, out of distress, begged and pleaded for the doctor assigned to my son’s care to help me figure out why my son was crying and screaming so badly. After an initial assessment, an X-ray was ordered, and upon the very 1st picture showing up on the screen of the technician’s X-ray machine, the only thing I remember the most was her loud and very frantic voice screaming out, “Doctor?!”.
Life can be harsh and take its toll, but I promise you have a valid and worthy reason for living.
By all means necessary, I knew what protocol was about to take place. DFS was called, a hotline for abuse was established, and then, police and DFS workers arrived at the ER to do an interview and begin an investigation. Due to the nature of the injury my son sustained, DFS immediately took custody of all 4 of my babies, issued a no-contact order temporarily, and ripped them all from my arms.
Throughout the process of figuring out what had happened to my son and by which individual, my downhill slide became a real and massive impact on my entire life, permanently.
From June 2017 to January 2020, I went through multiple interviews and had many interactions with DFS, police officers, etc. until finally they concluded that I was the “alleged perpetrator” and “abuser”. Unfortunately, the end result of all of the massive inflicting trauma, pain, damage, and unforgettable negative emotions/feelings I endured in that timeframe ended up with me taking a plea bargain for a crime I’d never in a million years commit, do to any baby or child ever in my life, especially my own little ones, and suffer permanent consequences for the rest of my entire life.
January 2020 sealed the deal. A brand-new Class C Felony conviction for child endangerment, “failure to provide medical attention in a timely manner.” I lost custody of all 4 of my babies permanently, lost my only avenue of knowledge and experience within the job world to pursue, became a convicted felon on probation for 5 years, and endured a total of 120 days in jail.
The detrimental and forever-permanent effects and damage this caused will never, ever be a memory I can forget, as it’s seared into my brain.
To make matters worse, in March 2019, I lost my dad in an unfortunate situation, which then only added to the pain and suffering I was still currently experiencing. My mental health took a major plummet downhill, and I suffered for months, possibly even over a 1-year time period.
My Depression and Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) took over. I gained over 150 lbs, did nothing but binge watch TV shows, sleep, and eat in order to cope with the permanent loss of my children and what I considered to be my “entire world and reason to live”.
In May of 2021, I was permanently cut off from contacting my oldest son. Then in August 2021, I was again cut off from contacting my 2nd son and only little girl. Still to this day, I haven’t had a single update on them, a photo of how they’ve grown over the past few years, heard a voice, or experienced those “soul-soothing” hugs, kisses, or an “I love you, Mommy.”
This is where the biggest amount of damage and trauma came into play and took full effect on my life, mental health, and ability to maintain stability entirely.
As of now, December 2023, I am medically sustained by psychiatric care and have a heavy medication regime to help me cope and manage all 8 diagnoses I have been given, which include: Bipolar 1 Disorder, dually diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, ADHD/ADD, depression, anxiety (both generalized & social), PTSD, OCD, & MDD congruent with psychotic like features.
Since 2017 to present (December 2023), I’ve overdosed by either pills or a combination of pills and alcohol in an attempt to end my life 7x. In those 7x, I’ve been in 4 different comas, either by the amount of toxicity I had caused myself or by medical induction causing me to only be able to survive by life support, having a ventilator breathe for me. This was the only viable option in order to keep my body from becoming too worked up and the inability to maintain a low level of stress while I healed internally.
I’ve caused permanent brain damage to my cognitive abilities and functions, have memory lapses, permanent heart damage, and suffered a 20% loss of lung function due to respiratory failure.
All of the traumatic events in my life, all of these suicide attempts, and all of the literal damage my mind has suffered time and time again has finally impacted me not in a negative way anymore, but in a more positive aspect and light.
I stand here today and can tell you that all of the different situations I’ve experienced in life, all of the different traumatic events, and all of the detrimental damage and effects do not ever, by any means at all, make it where you are able to say, “I give up.”
It’s time to make a difference, a change. To push forward, to make progress, and end up successfully treating and addressing my mental health, I am still actively learning how to deal with it and manage it. But, if there is 1 thing I could tell you with 100% certainty, it’s that no matter how much it hurts, how many setbacks and declines you have, or how many bad and potentially life-threatening ideas you might twist up in your head don’t give up. Don’t give in. Keep pushing. Put in the legwork. Don’t stop striving for stability and finding your strength until you feel like you’re able to sit there and say with 100% certainty, “I’m okay. I can do this. I can and will survive and overcome this.”
Mental health can be tough to maintain, it can take its toll drastically, and it might try and convince you that taking an easier route out of this world is the answer, but I promise it’s not.
Stay strong. Be courageous and proactive. Take care of yourself. Seek help. Giving up isn’t the answer.
My final piece to end this entire story of my life, my struggles, the setbacks, the attempts to give up and end my life, the times where I thought I couldn’t survive anymore is this:
You can and will be resilient. You can sustain stability. Hang in there and always, always remember to keep your head up. Life can be harsh and take its toll, but I promise you have a valid and worthy reason for living.
Storyteller
