This Mother's Day I Choose Grace: A Story of Survival, Healing & Coming Home to Myself

 Introduction:

    This Mother's Day isn't like the ones before. It isn't draped in pastels or smothered in brunch plans. It's quieter...deeper. It's not just about being a mom- it's about surviving as one. Rebuilding as one. And finally, forgiving myself enough to believe that I deserve this day, too.

The Wreckage of 2024

    Last year broke me. I don't say that lightly. I spiraled. I lost my footing, my relationships, my home-and for a while my will to keep going. I was institutionalized. I was homeless. I was alone in every possible sense, and my battle with Borderline Personality Disorder nearly consumed me. 

    

    There were nights I didn't think I'd make it. Days I didn't want to. The pain, the guilt, the shame-they were louder than any hope I could hear.

    But I'm Still Here.

    And that alone is a miracle. 

The Turning Point

    Somewhere in the midst of rock bottom, I found something sacred: a spark. A whisper that I was still worth saving. That healing was possible, even if I had burned every bridge and lost my own reflection in the process.

    

    That whisper grew louder with time, with effort, with grace.

DBT: My Lifeline in the Chaos

    Dialectical Behavior Therapy wasn't just therapy-it was my rope out of the pit. It taught me how to feel without self-destruction. How to live in a world that felt too sharp for someone like me. Slowly, it gave me tools to rebuild-not into who I was, but into who I could be.

Faith & Cannabis: Strange Sisters, Steady Guides

    Faith reminded me that even when I had no words to pray, my tears were loud enough. That I could be a prodigal daughter and still be welcomed home. 

    

    Cannabis helped soften the edges, ease the torment, quiet the screaming in my mind long enough to breathe and stay. It's not everyone's path, but it's part of mine-and it worked alongside faith, not against it. 

The Hardest Part: Facing My Reflection

    The damage BPD caused in my life is real. It fractured relationships. It left scars-on others and on myself. But what stuns me most is the forgiveness I've received. Not because I deserved it, but because grace is scandalous like that. 

    My family is still here. Not untouched, but unbroken. Still loving. Still hoping for me. And that... that humbles me more than anything.

   This Mother's Day, I Celebrate the Climb

    I celebrate the moments I chose to stay. I honor the warrior within me who screamed yes to life even when everything begged her to let go. I'm not perfect-not even close. But I'm alive. I'm present. And I'm working every day to be a mother my soul can be proud of. 

To Every Mother in the Fire:

    If you're clawing your way back from chaos, I see you. If you're healing in silence, I feel you. You are not alone. There is no shame in your survival. There is sacredness in it. 

   

    This Mother's Day, we don't need to be celebrated by the world to be worth honoring. We are the celebration. We are the proof that resurrection is possible.