There were no problems that I was aware of until my uncle, my mom’s brother, died unexpectedly of a heart-attack at age 33???? This had a huge impact on my mom, and she fell into a deep, dark pit of depression that she just could not pull herself out of. I was in 7th grade at the time, and I remember my mom being in bed all hours of the day and night. She’d be in bed when I left for school; she’d be in bed when I got home from school. She was never not in the bed. I remember her being up one morning for breakfast before I left for school. She was attempting to put cream cheese on her bagel, but she ended up smearing the cream cheese all over her hair. Her mannerisms and her facial expressions made me instantly aware that something was wrong, and it scared me. Walking into my house that evening was one of the worst memories of my life. My mom was hunched over the countertop, her face was all droopy, her eyes glassed-over. The coloring of her face was a purplish, bluish color. I instantly knew something was wrong! After this, my mom finally went to get some help. This incoherent person was not my loving, Godly mother; she was gone, and I longed to have her back & NORMAL! When my friends at church or people at the Children’s Home would ask where my mom was, we would only tell the bare minimum. With my dad’s leadership position at the Children’s Home, my family appeared to be the “picture-perfect” family. But as we all know, appearances are most definitely not always as they appear. Despite the Godly lifestyle that my family portrayed, we had a deep, dark secret that we kept hidden in our home- a bad, shameful secret that was imperative that we keep hidden from family, friends, and most importantly our church family and other leaders at the Children’s Home. Looking back, the Holy Spirit showed me that this is the time when my heart started becoming hardened and full of hatred. I tried to stay away from my mom and my house as much as I could. Not only did I want to get away from our broken home, but I also was a 13-year old girl who just wanted to be around my friends. Shortly after my mom went to get some help, I went away on a church choir trip. Prior to our performance, I remember having to leave the sanctuary to go get some water. I felt extremely hot. After splashing cool water on my face, I hurried back so that I could get ready for our performance. During the last song of our performance, I remember feeling really weird and wobbly. My body leaned forward and then backward, and then everything went black. I had fainted. I fell to the ground in front of the entire church body. They placed a Bible under my head for support, as they continued to give me cool, refreshing water. Never in my life have I fainted before this instance, and never in my life have I fainted after. My youth pastor's wife told me that I needed to call my mom and tell her what happened because she would want to know. I didn't tell my youth minister's wife, but I didn't want to call my mom because she had just gotten out of substance-abuse rehab. I felt in my heart that she didn't care if anything happened to me, so it was just better left unsaid. However, she dialed the number, so I didn't really have a choice, as she was right in front of me and stayed beside me for the entire conversation. While on the phone, my mom apologized for her actions and behavior. She informed me that she had gotten some help and that she would take good care of me when I got back to Memphis. I was scared to death to walk back into my house after having experienced the worst occurrence of my life in this very place. It was a house of secrets and sadness, and I didn't want to walk back into this life. I enjoyed being away, and I didn't want to come back to face "real-life". However, I came down with the flu the evening upon my return from the church choir trip. Just like my fainting incident, I had never had the flu before, and I have never had the flu after this horrible episode of pain and suffering- being completely helpless and dependent upon someone else for an entire week. The person who took care of me and nursed me back to health was the woman I loved and called Momma, not the other scary lady whom I didn't know whether she was dead or alive. There were highs and there were lows after my mom's first hospitalization. I missed the first Friday of my sophomore year to travel to visit my mom at her month-long rehab center. I had a poor attitude at first, but God quickly changed my heart about going to support and encourage her in this step of her recovery venture.
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