During this time, my nervous system was stuck in “fight or flight.”

I was living every day in a state of hypervigilance, never knowing what the next day would bring. After my husband’s third suicide attempt it all became too much and our family broke, not being able to withstand the force of such a disabling condition. I felt utterly helpless, unsure of how to support him while also raising our girls. Our environment was spiraling, and we unfortunately lost him to suicide in 2014. To say it was a devastating time doesn’t fully capture the immensity of how we all felt.

How does one reconcile the highs and lows of loving someone with mental illness?

Being the love and the hate of my husband’s life, his confidante, his caregiver, his wife, and eventually his ex-wife, I was living in my own mental prison, incapable of escape. But I tried to the best of my ability, to pick up the pieces when he departed, raising my girls, and instilling in them all the love I could give. We’d made a commitment when we were married, and I was going to honor that commitment.

Loss has been a prevalent theme in my life. 

I lost my father and my childhood closest friend at the same time as my family life was unraveling. During that very challenging strenuous time, I sat by the bedside of my best friend, sharing her tears and her laughter, experiencing the wisdom and heart of someone who left our world too early. A couple years later, I had to say goodbye to my father. But through all this loss, against the odds, I managed to find the love and gratitude for all that I had. I fell in love again, experienced heartache and began dating anew. I embarked on a path of rebuilding my life, wrestling with grief, clinging to my dreams, determined to carve a life filled with hope and purpose.

I’ve discovered that ups and downs are a fundamental part of life. 

In my professional life I have ventured into the unknown and have tasted success and failure. I have been uncertain about how I would lead my family, and uncertain what the future might hold. But through it all, I’ve always held on to hope. I had faith that I could shield my children from the storm yet persevere and show them glimpses of our family’s strength and resolve. And I’ve done just that.

Clarity often arrives in or after moments of despair. 

It was this way for me. After having weathered the storm, I settled down, took the time to heal, and reflected. What I saw was a vision of the instincts and the intuition that I had used to steer our family in the right direction. I saw the emergence of my spirituality and my sense of self blossom into a force that I used to empower and raise my children. That might well be the crowning achievement of my life–raising two daughters who know and understand love. We are a team; a formidable one! And from these little miracles have grown others that I’ve come to recognize along the way.

Sure, managing and expressing emotional pain is still a challenge. 

But within the vulnerability to be open and honest, to truly feel the pain, comes healing. It’s precisely within this pain, when you are alone with your breath, that you may experience what can only be described as pure presence. The mind dissolves and all that’s left is feeling. It is in this sacred space that we find acceptance; from whence hope emerges, followed by belief, and ultimately joy. In this sacred space is the discovery of one’s purpose. It can only be felt when there is pure clarity and awareness.

You don’t have to get bad to be good. 

Once I rediscovered my power, my freedom, it became clear that my mission was and is to help others find their power too.