Allie Joyful Community Blog

13. The Joy of Al-Anon

Thu, 16 Jul 2026 11:55:41 GMT

Being in a place where others "get" me

I have been attending Al-Anon meetings since May of 2012. It's a 12-step support program for people whose lives have been affected by someone else’s alcoholism or drug addiction. I went there hoping to find the answers that would fix the problem. I had this idea that I could be the one to save this person. It was a big step just to accept that I couldn't do it alone and needed to ask for help. Honestly I thought it was a reflection on my inadequacy if I couldn't figure it out on my own.

So here I was sitting at my first meeting, waiting for the big reveal and instead what I discovered is that there aren't any magic answers. And what’s more – we do not focus on the person struggling with alcohol or drugs but on ourselves. Wait? What?

Attending these meetings have been challenging at times, but so worth the work. I have learned about the disease, about compassion for people suffering from addictions, and compassion for myself and others who are also impacted. And at times, depending on my relationship with alcohol, I’ve known secretly what it’s truly like to be on the other side of this disease.

What I love about Al-Anon is that nobody “shoulds” anyone. We read from these books that are a compilation of stories written by others who are just like us living with this shared experience. Someone volunteers to read a reflection and often comments on how the story resonates with him or her. Everyone is welcome to talk but there's no pressure to do so. We just give one another the space needed to comment if desired before we move on to the next selection from one of the Al-Anon books.

Each time someone shares we respond in the same way – thanking that person and saying his or her name. Period. We don’t ask why he or she didn’t do something different or offer our own opinions on what to do. It's a safe place for people to speak from the heart and their hurt without judgement. And I don’t have to worry if what I say doesn’t make sense to anybody else because it does to me. I am enough.

I have found care. I have a better understanding about the insidiousness of alcoholism and drug addictions. I have found a place where people get me in a way that fills in some of the space and emptiness when I try to articulate my thoughts. As unique as each one of us and our stories are, there is comfort in being with others that will just let you be. There is no fixing, but a lot of wisdom is shared from our own experiences that resonate with one another. And the truth is we leave each meeting taking what we want and leaving behind anything that doesn’t quite fit.

There has definitely been crying. Even in that it’s been a relief to feel comfortable in doing so in front of others who have likely endured a similar experience. Mostly there’s joy. Joy at finding a place where I don’t have to pretend. I can explain if I want but I don’t have to either. I don’t have to worry about people telling me what they think I should do when they only know part of my story. They accept what I give them as I accept theirs. In Al-Anon there is a lot of listening. That and kindness. My connection to it has truly changed my life. It has also provided the framework for this blog.

If you have attended an Al-Anon meeting or any of the twelve step programs, would you speak of your experience? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#accompaniment #boundaries #capacity

12. My Rock Bottom

Mon, 13 Jul 2026 13:55:57 GMT

Today God, I am ready today.

It was September 12, 2025. My mom had celebrated her 90th birthday the day before. We had traveled to my sister’s home for the occasion.

I woke up that morning thinking it was 6:30am. I hadn’t slept well and was glad to see that it was light out so I could go downstairs. It was actually 10:30am. I’d missed the opportunity to drive my brother to the airport. I was confused and mad. Why didn’t anyone wake me? Hadn’t I said the night before that I wanted to take him? My sister told me that they had let me sleep in because they thought I needed it. To be fair, I rarely get a good night’s sleep so I know it made sense, but I kept pressing.

My sister made an innocent comment about the beer I had before going to bed and how drinking at night can affect sleep patterns. She had no flipping idea. She’d only seen me drink one and that was about six less than usual. She struck a nerve. I escalated the conversation to the point that I said ridiculous things and stormed out of her house. My intention was to drive to a park, find a spot, and go to the back of my car where I had two tall boys of Bud Light stashed for moments like this.

I pulled out of the driveway and began sobbing. For about an hour I couldn’t stop. I drove around without direction. I was also without my phone but I was too mad and embarrassed to turn back. Part of me knew I wasn’t crying because my sister and I got in a fight or I hadn’t been able to take my brother to the airport. I knew it was something bigger.

I felt this tug from God as I drove by this beautiful Catholic church. Two blocks down the road, I felt the tug again. I turned around and circled the property looking for a spot in front. I wanted as few people as possible to see me as I doubt I was wearing anything all that good. Had I even put on lipstick? I knew I was a hot mess so I figured I’d just sneak in the back. I found a parking spot but the doors were locked. “Gee, God, thanks a lot.” Well, at least for a moment there I’d considered doing something other than drinking.

Eventually I found the park. I stopped twice. Each time it didn’t feel safe to get out of my car to retrieve my beer. Climbing over the seats seemed a little over the top – even to me. I guess it was a good thing I had hidden the beer from my mom. Things might have gone differently that day if they were close by.

I was still sobbing. I decided to have another conversation with God. I think it went something like, “Okay Holy Spirit, I think there’s probably more than just remembering to set an alarm or not being a jerk to my sister that you want me to learn. Am I right? I just can’t quite figure it out, but I know there must be something.” I waited in silence.

The answer came moments later. I knew what I had to do. It’s as if I was propelled out of the park and down the road to find the first gas station. I pulled up to the pump, got out the beers, and threw them in the trash. The old me (well actually in all transparency I did think it at that moment) wondered if I was being quite irresponsible for throwing away two perfectly good cans of beer.

It was a moment of God allowing me to make the choice. I had made different ones so many times before. I had wanted that choice of when I could drink, not if I could drink. Was I really comparing wasting two cans of beer to wasting away my life? When I finally accepted that I couldn’t decide on the “when” because “no” time was the right answer for me, I knew.

Then I said to myself, “Today God, I am ready today.”

What is the hardest part of your struggle with alcohol or drug addiction? If you have found sobriety, can you share what led you to this point? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#acceptance #bargaining #courage #TrustInGod

11. I Feel It In My Knees

Thu, 09 Jul 2026 13:05:16 GMT

The beginning of an anxiety attack

I can be just sitting around and all of the sudden my knees go weak. Even when I can’t connect it to something obvious, I know what is likely to follow. My tongue starts to feel too big for my mouth. It’s hard to form words. It seems like there is this big space in my brain where things aren’t going from one side to the other. If others are around me, I can feel their concern as they strain to make sense of what I’m trying to say. It is terrifying. It is familiar. It is the beginning of an anxiety attack.

I reach for something sweet hoping it will subside my shakiness. There is probably no scientific data that supports my belief that candy is the answer, but I’m convinced it will help. I suspect there is a connection between being offered a sucker when I was little and scraped knees. I use food – specifically sweets for soothing. That’s probably worth exploring in another post.

I expect to feel anxious in certain situations. In those scenarios it generally hits me in my stomach. This is why it is best that I don’t watch my favorite teams play live – Notre Dame, Chicago Cubs, Da Bears. Heck, I’m even nervous watching replays of the games they’ve won. But this is something very different and unsettling. It feels like it comes out of nowhere, but I suspect this isn’t always the case. Even though I might not be thinking or talking about something clearly concerning, it’s likely that something in my subconscious is trying to come to the surface.

Sometimes when the crisis of symptoms has passed, I just want to move on. I mean it’s not a good feeling so I don’t really want to go back there. I wonder if the symptoms will return if I try to figure it out. In those moments it is all I can do to slow my heart, stop the shaking in my hands, and sit down so that my legs don’t buckle under me. Usually I’m too weak, physically and mentally, after it passes to deal with it then. But I know at some point I am going to have to consider the "why."

I picture the scene from “Field of Dreams” when the little girl is sitting on the top of the bleacher eating a hotdog. Her mouth is stuffed with it. Kind of reminds me how my mouth feels during an anxiety attack. She is trying to tell her uncle something as he is shaking her. She manages to get out, “It’s not nothing” before she plummets to the ground.

I can’t always figure out the source of my anxiety, but what I am feeling is real. I know my anxiety attacks aren’t nothing.

How does anxiety manifest itself in physical symptoms for you? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#anxiety #fear #unpredictable

10. The Shelf Across My Brow

Mon, 06 Jul 2026 13:01:53 GMT

It's like a weight that rests there...

I can tell when there is the onset of a depression episode. I can feel it right across my brow. It’s like a weight that rests there. And as the days and sometimes weeks pass while I’m in this place, I pile up things on the shelf that can weigh me down even further. One time this image felt so real, I literally thought, “I sure hope those mollies can hold what I’m piling on.” It’s like I can’t help myself. Even knowing that I am in danger of the shelf pulling away from the wall under the weight, I can’t bring myself to remove the items.

I have an ornate tole wall shelf right by my front door. It’s under a picture of Mary holding Jesus as a baby and above the first few steps leading to the second floor. The shelf holds a statue of the Pieta (Mary holding Jesus after He died), a small glass vessel of Holy Water, a pix for when I take Holy Communion to my mom, and two beautiful rosaries gifted by loved ones. These things are precious to me.

It’s not lost on me that I run the risk of having these items placed in a precarious position. But it’s a place of honor. I chose it specifically so that I could pass by it many times during the day.

That shelf has come off the wall – a couple times when the wind slammed the door shut and once when my neighbor set off a cherry bomb. Nothing has ever broken but it has been startling to say the least. I suppose it kind of reminds me that I have fallen, but I am not broken. I’m not something that needs to be fixed, although surely, I’ve needed mending.

At times, I’ve walked by the shelf and it’s a visual reminder of the balance that I try to achieve. Sometimes I imagine rearranging the items – in reality, the worries. Sometimes I’ve lined them up proportionately or sometimes they’re just random. Most of the time I can manage.

It’s hard to explain the difference between the depression that is from inside and the depression that comes from things that happen in life. Perhaps clinical depression is like dust. I can walk by a shelf and see the dust. I want to do something about it, but I just don’t have the energy. Coming out of one of my episodes is like having the energy to remove the items from the shelf; dusting each one, wiping off the top, and putting them back in place. Sometimes they are arranged differently.

Sometimes when I have transitioned back into a more normal mode, things can also look a little different. There is a lightness now because the dust has been cleared off. But the reality is, at some point, the dust will accumulate again.

What has the weight of depression felt like for you? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#debilitating #depression #overwhelmed

9. I Felt Discarded

Thu, 02 Jul 2026 14:00:16 GMT

It made me question so many things about myself

I have lost people I loved dearly. And I have had other losses that have had a profound impact on me.

My job was eliminated right before Holy Week, 2025. I had been there for over fifteen years. I loved what I did. I didn’t consider it a job, it felt more like a vocation. I was heartbroken.

I still don’t truly understand. I was told it was because of restructuring. I’m sure it made sense to the people making the decision, but I felt completely blindsided. Many months later, I’m still grappling with how it has made me question so many things about myself. What else did I miss? Why wasn’t I enough?

No matter how many times I tell myself that I know I made a difference to others, I’m right back to that same question, “Why?” There is just this ache in me about the emptiness I feel at the loss of purpose and doing something that was so meaningful.

When I told my friend Kathy that it has been the hardest thing that has ever happened to me, she asked, “You mean harder than losing Joe, or your dad or your sister?” It probably seems ridiculous that I would compare losing a job with losing my loved ones, but I told her that it was a different kind of loss. Maybe it's because it’s on top of all the other losses. But I think it is because it’s a reflection on me and that is difficult to face.

I absolutely know that good things can come from hard things. It has happened many times before when I recognized the blessings that I wouldn’t have known if I had not gone through the difficulty. But I know this for sure. No matter any of the good that comes, nothing will diminish the memory of the pain that I feel from this experience. Even when I consider all that I cherished – the people and the work, it still closes with the same ending. There’s no way around it for me. One day things are one way and the next day they aren’t. I am gone. I feel discarded.

I do know that God sees me. And I know that He allowed this to happen. I know all of this, and I trust in His plan for me. But can I just say that I sure don’t like it.

What are the losses in your life that have left you feeling discarded? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#grief #painful #TrustInGod

8. Dreams That Haunt Me

Mon, 29 Jun 2026 18:00:03 GMT

I was afraid of being rejected if they knew my stuff

I have dreams that haunt me. I see friends from long ago and move to greet them. The look on their faces tells me that they aren’t happy to see me. In some of those dreams they turn away. In others they tell me what they think about my disappearing act. When I wake up, I’m in this weird space. Part of me is glad that it wasn’t real and that I didn’t feel their anger but part of me is sad because at least in my dream I had the chance to say I’m sorry that I messed up.

Some of these friends in my dreams are from college or just after. It was during the summer between my junior and senior year at Saint Mary’s when I became bulimic. While I don’t remember feeling depressed, it is likely. That and OCD. I think I’ve had a lot of overlap with these things.

I guess you could say I was already having distorted thinking. I couldn’t name what was going on with me, so how could I explain it to others so that they’d understand? How could I say that I can’t meet up with you because of the way I feel when I look at myself in my clothes? The discord in my mind about my body image took priority over knowing that it would’ve been good to be with them. I felt disgusted with myself, embarrassed and ashamed, because even though I didn’t know there was a word for what I was doing, I was doing it.

I’d like to think that these friends have encountered others who struggle with mental illness but found a way to share the reasons why they canceled plans at the last minute or at least had the decency to call later and explain while they were absent. I hope they think to themselves, “Oh yeah, of course, now I get it, now I see why Allison did that.”

I don’t think I am shaming myself. I know I did the best that I could at the time. It made sense to me that I didn’t want to unload my stuff on others, and my OCD made it hard to lie. But you know what I think may also be the truth? I think I was afraid of being rejected if they knew my stuff and so I rejected them first. And I am so, so sorry I did that.

I so hope they can forgive me because I’m still working on forgiving myself. There is this heaviness that I have carried over 40 years of friends I knew then and after that I hurt because I was hurting. There is this deepness in my heart. Maybe that’s why I drank and tried to fill it up with other things so that the vastness would shrink just a bit.

Maybe that’s why I keep having these dreams - hoping there will be a different ending.

If you are currently struggling, or have in the past, with an eating disorder, can you share a bit about the challenges you face? Was there anything that helped? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group

#anxiety #hiding #forgiveness

7. Bud Light Was Like Breathing

Thu, 25 Jun 2026 12:00:16 GMT

Struggling for air, calmness, existing, awareness, struggling for air, repeat

I loved a cold Bud Light in a bottle. It was my go-to. I had a friend in college that referred to me as “two-beer Allison” because that was all I needed to feel silly and charming. Really it was this wave of warmth and calmness that washed over me and helped me relax.

For the better part of my adult years, I knew that I sometimes relied on it too much. Some years I’d give it up for Lent just so I could prove to myself that I could. Sometimes there were years in between a drink, and then sure enough, I could get back into the rhythm of drinking. For a long time, I was trying to bargain with God to just allow me to have fun with my friends and to take away my desire to drink in the dark. This all changed for me in the summer of 2025.

By July I’d been out of a job for about three months. I was applying for ones that I truly thought would be a good fit. Nothing was working out. I felt rejected. I felt forgotten. I felt like a failure. Honestly, I just didn’t want to feel. I started drinking more in the evenings to help me take my mind off things. I thought it would be a good thing.

One night, about 4am, I woke up feeling like I was suffocating. My heart was racing. So I did the thing that made sense to me. I walked out to my garage and grabbed a Bud Light and downed it in about three minutes. My heart slowed and I could breathe. There was that calmness I was looking for. Hey, I think I’m on to something.

Sometimes I’d sleep through the night and wouldn’t wake up before dawn and sometimes my nights were so filled with restlessness that I was too exhausted to get up before mid-morning. Regardless of what time I woke, I headed to my attached garage where I had bottles of Bud Light hiding in boxes with other things piled on top. I'd grab two and then head to my freezer, fill up my insulated cup with crushed ice, pour the beer and quickly draw in comfort through the straw. With the cup pretty full and another Bud Light in hand, I’d head back upstairs and drink those two beers until the calmness washed over me and I could catch my breath.

Sometimes I’d fall back asleep, and it would start again when I woke later. Sometimes it was late enough in the morning that I got up for the day. There were days that were productive. I still applied for jobs and sent requests on LinkedIn. I’ll tell you my grass never looked better because I cut it at least twice a week. I loved seeing the lines in my yard. It gave me order and it gave me purpose.

For the better part of two months, this is how I started each day. If I didn’t start drinking until mid-morning, then I might only have six or seven that day. If I started in the early hours, it was more likely to be 10. I kept repeating the cycle throughout the day; struggling for air, calmness, existing, awareness, struggling for air, repeat.

If you have used alcohol or drugs to cope, why do you choose them and do they help or make things more difficult? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#bargaining #compulsion #numbing

6. Both Sides

Mon, 22 Jun 2026 18:44:55 GMT

It's hard to be the ones with mental illness and the ones watching

I've seen the pain on the faces of people that love me. I feel for them because it reminds me of how I've felt being on the other side of mental illness. I’ve wanted to be the one that would make things better. But I know that I haven’t caused it, I can’t control it, and I can’t cure it. This is something I've learned in Al-Anon. The principles and practices of this program help me as I navigate my own struggles and accompany others.

Mental illness is insidious to me. Both Sides. I'm living it and sometimes I don’t even want to be around myself. I don’t want to burden others, yet I don’t consider people who I'm accompanying to be a burden. Go figure.

There’s a song running through my mind — well actually just a few of the lines — “I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. It’s cloud’s illusions, I recall. I really don’t know clouds at all.”

(I rarely know the lyrics to songs. I’m not sure exactly what that says about me. Perhaps it’s a metaphor for the missing parts in my mind. I tend to fill in what I don’t know with something else or I hear what isn't at all written — like when I thought the words to “Just Remember I Love You” by Firefall were, “When the dog goes crazy and the chili’s gone.” When in reality it’s, “When it all goes crazy and the thrill is gone.” I admit that still makes me giggle a bit.)

The song I mentioned above is called “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchelle. It was featured in the first episode of “A Million Little Things.” A teenage girl is singing this at her dad’s funeral. I think about my friends who mourn their loved ones who have died by suicide. I think of others trying to support the ones they care about struggling with mental illness. I think it’s hard to be the ones with mental illness and the ones watching. Both sides are suffering.

I googled “Both Sides Now” to look at the lyrics. I was not surprised that I was way off, but I did have a few more words right. My mental health journey feels similar to songs that I like, but don’t know the words to. I replay the same parts over and over in my mind. I think it’s because they don’t feel real and I need them to be. Sometimes I fill in the spaces with words that seem like a good fit based on the title. But I'm just guessing. It may be a bunch of nonsense, but even then, they have their place.

I played the song on YouTube. The unfamiliar lyrics began to fit with the melody. Each time I play it, I recall a few more words and have a better grasp of the theme. It feels a bit like recognizing my symptoms and triggers. The more episodes I have, the more understanding I have of my conditions. Even when I don’t like what I'm going through, it's somewhat familiar and I can assure myself that I will get to the other side.

Like the end of the song, I'm comforted that there will be one for me.

What do you wish someone would understand about your struggles — whether you are the one that has a mental illness or you are a family member or friend who cares about them? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#burden #grief #reality

5. Storms

Thu, 18 Jun 2026 03:32:59 GMT

I've had the thought, "I just wish it could all be over"

I've never made a plan, but when I have the thought, “I just wish it could all be over,” I know that I am once again in that scary space. Sometimes I think I can trace the onset of a depressive episode to a trigger like a significant date or event, but other times it just seems so random. I’ve wondered if there's a rhythm and cycle to it, but even that often doesn’t ring true. Perhaps it makes sense if I liken it to weather.

I live in the Midwest where we have all four seasons. With that comes the predictability and likelihood of different kinds of weather, depending on what month we are in. But then there’s always these random occurrences like thunder snow. I mean where the heck does that come from? It doesn’t even make any sense and yet it happens.

Sometimes there’s a bit more warning - the dark clouds in the distance, those first few raindrops, and the wind picking up. I wonder if it will pass over quickly or will there be a deluge that includes hail stones that damage my potted plants? My husband, Joe, called me the “weather woman wannabe” as I'm fascinated by it. I love tuning into the Weather Channel as they're tracking a new storm in my area. They say things about the history of the storm. What do they mean by this? How can there be a history of a storm if it hasn’t happened yet? I stay tuned to learn more. I gather from their explanations that there are patterns and predictabilities. They can pinpoint what areas are most vulnerable and when the storm is likely to dissipate.

Knowing when the storm is approaching allows me time to do some things to mitigate the damage. I can take the cushions off my outdoor furniture. I can move my pots under cover. But there’s a part of my yard where I have these two beautiful maple trees that go unprotected. I worry that strong winds will bend them so far over that they pull away from the ground. I’m not kidding that this is a real fear for me. I even have dreams that I am out there trying to hold the trees steady while bracing for the next strong gust.

I think there is a correlation between these storms and my episodes of depression - patterns of ones that pass by rather quickly and storm systems that are stalled overhead and in my head.

Is there a date or event that triggers an episode of depression for you? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#coping #depression #unpredictable

4. I Took a Chance

Thu, 11 Jun 2026 17:36:11 GMT

I took these as a sign to speak up

It was December of 2023. The NFL was in full swing and so were the league sponsored commercials from players encouraging people to reach out for help regarding their mental health. There were also these stirring videos entitled “Awkward Silence” playing on YouTube. Just months after Jacqueline's death, I took these as a sign to speak up.

I was with a group of people I respected. It was in a professional but pastoral setting and our discussion centered on how to support individuals with mental health struggles. I thought I was safe in this setting because of the implications related to our work. I decided to be brave and share my ongoing battle with clinical depression, anxiety disorder, OCD, as well as my eating disorder for the better part of my 20s. What I received was n-o-t-h-i-n-g. No kind of response during the meeting or even afterwards in private settings. I had expected something different.

This post is not about shaming anyone. I've certainly been in situations where I didn’t know how to respond so I either stayed quiet or said the wrong thing to fill the space. And I'm not shaming myself either because I took a chance to reveal something important about myself with people I trusted. I guess it’s just to say that I’m glad I haven’t stopped sharing my story and grateful that there have been people that say things like “Thanks, Allison, for sharing” or even “I'm sorry; I just don’t know what to say or do."

I cannot “fix” anyone and I don’t want anybody to try and fix me. I just want to learn better how to receive what someone is trying to share from their heart and hope that I can find others to do the same for me. I want people to give me second chances when I make mistakes, and I want to extend the same to others.

I did take another chance and spoke up again when that group gathered a month later. I saw a vulnerability in them as I reflected on how I felt. It was worth the risk for me to revisit this so that I could learn to navigate awkward and uncomfortable conversations. I received from them that day what I was looking for the first time I disclosed. There was care and kindness. I felt heard.

Have you ever told someone about your mental health struggle and didn’t feel supported in the way you needed? Or has someone come to with their struggles and you didn’t know how to respond? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#boundaries #forgiveness #vulnerability

3. Why Would I Put Myself Out There Like This?

Mon, 08 Jun 2026 17:26:45 GMT

I'm overcoming my fears and feel worthy of telling my story

I've struggled with mental illnesses for a long time. Even when I didn’t have a name for what I was suffering from, it was there. I didn’t understand why I could feel so “regular” and then I wouldn’t. And I didn't have the internet to type in symptoms or behaviors and get an answer.

When I first started talking about doing this blog, I received mixed reactions. Some worried about what others would think or say to me, or about me. Honestly, it's been a relief to finally come to a place where I don’t want to hide anymore. I was tired of the energy it took to pretend.

And it’s not that I don’t care what people think about me, it’s that I'm okay with it. I doubt that it could be worse than what I've thought about myself all these years. And honestly if they do, that’s okay too because I could be cruel when it came to me. I've also had my share of unkind thoughts towards others. I believe they came from a place of woundedness. If someone says something harsh about me, that’s their truth. I don't have to own their stuff.

I am grateful to family and friends who have asked the questions that have led me to this place. I also want to acknowledge the impact that Brené Brown has had on me.

She doesn’t know me, but she feels like a friend. I first saw her 2019 Netflix special “Call to Courage” in 2022. She spoke of things that resonated with my experiences and helped me make sense of things I didn't understand. I felt seen. I'm drawn to her masterful storytelling and how she weaves and reveals her important research through them.

Even when her stories were challenging and hard to hear, and even when I had to recognize and reconcile some of those things in myself, there was comfort seeing it played out right in front of me. The more times I watched, the more I let go. I love her stories. They have made a difference for me. Often I saw myself in them and I suppose it helped me to feel safe to move. This is probably why I've watched the special twenty-one times and will likely watch again. Each time they help me go a little deeper.

I'm overcoming my fears and feel worthy of telling my story. I'm being brave with my life.

What are your feelings about what others might think of you if they knew about your struggles with mental illness? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#courage #pretending #vulnerability

2. Beginnings

Thu, 04 Jun 2026 16:38:38 GMT

It had exposed a part of my heart and suffering

I wrote the reflection on Jacqueline S. in March 2025. I’d found a template for a sunflower mental health lanyard we had worked on a couple years earlier tucked away in a desk drawer. I missed her.

In an impulse I grabbed my phone and spoke into it. For a moment it felt like she was on the other end and I was just telling her my thoughts. I think the whole thing took about seven minutes. It was so easy to speak those words about her and that ease must have helped me to transition into naming my own mental health struggles.

When I finished talking and looked at the words, I was struck by the rawness and admission. They said something different than what was in my head. It made a kind of sense that I had not accepted before.

I read and reread the words that Jacqueline had said about her mental illness. About them not defining her but being part of how God created her and trying to figure out how He was using her to make a difference for others. I had never intended to share what I wrote about her with anyone. It was just for me. But it had exposed a part of my heart and suffering. It made me wonder if He had a similar plan for me.

I first shared what I wrote with my friend Kelly. She received it with such love and compassion. She got me thinking about starting a blog and suggested submitting my piece to our local newspaper as part of Mental Health Awareness Month. That didn’t go anywhere but it was a step.

I told my children that I felt like sharing my story would be good for me and might help others. I started being braver about the possibilities and talked about my mental health struggles more intentionally. God kept putting people in my path that were willing to use their gifts and skills to make my humble words reach others. My daughter Caroline told her friend and co-worker, Lauren, at their AD agency. She created my logo and branding. Another friend, Jenn, offered to create this website. Caroline has been with me every step of the way, crafting the layout and serving as my editor.

I shared my first writings with another friend, Meagan, who kindly challenged me to go deeper and name the things I initially glossed over. I changed mental “health” to mental “illness." It felt safer to be real. God continued to put people in my path.

I called Jacqueline’s parents to tell them of my intentions and to ask permission to tell her story. They were touched that I wanted to honor their daughter and the impact she had on my life. They cautioned me that people might treat me differently once they knew of my mental illnesses. I felt their deep care and concern for me. They helped me consider the risks I was taking.

Whenever I go across town, I try to take the route that passes by her home. It’s then that I call her parents. Sometimes I'm lucky and they're home to pick up. Other times I leave a voicemail and I hear from them later. Jacqueline had called a week before she died and left a message. I play it sometimes to hear her voice. I treasure it and the memory of other things she shared. Her words made a difference. She kindly challenged me to consider what I was doing in terms of my own struggles. I think she would be pleased that I'm sharing her story and mine.

Is there someone you know personally or a public figure that has shared his or her struggle regarding mental health that made a difference for you? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#accompaniment #capacity #gratitude

1. Jacqueline S.

Mon, 01 Jun 2026 22:30:49 GMT

She inspired me to be open about my own struggles

A few years ago I met a young woman named Jacqueline. At the time, I worked for the Catholic Church in the ministry with persons with disabilities. Jacqueline called looking for a parish that would welcome her. Her first line to me was, “Is there any place that will accept me for just who I am?” When Jacqueline entered my world that day, I could not have known the tremendous impact she would have on my life both professionally and personally.

Jacqueline lived with many physical and mental disabilities — some were more obvious, others were not. The more she shared about her struggles, the more I wanted to know and the deeper we went. Sometimes she would look at me — often I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or incredulous with my questions, as if I should already know, or maybe she was surprised I wanted to know.

She shared how unkind so many had been to her. Jacqueline had Tourette’s and with that came various forms of tics. They could be loud and startling, but when I understood, it just became an expected part of our conversations.

Jacqueline was so funny and vulnerable. She shared things because I believe she trusted me. She invited me into her world, at least some pieces of it, and I treasure what I learned from her. I cannot speak to what happened in those last moments before she couldn’t endure the unkindness and pain any longer. I just knew that I'd no longer experience that beautiful young woman in a way I had grown to love and look forward to engaging.

I would speak of Jacqueline often and would share her story with others through my work. The lessons she taught me impacted how I interacted and advocated. Deep inside was this voice — my own — reaching up to where it would eventually be spoken.

It took almost two years. Two years to be ready to speak my truth and share my ongoing struggles with depression and anxiety, the aftermath of my eating disorder and how these diagnoses manifested themselves in my life.

Jacqueline spoke the words that touched my heart, rocked me to the core, and inspired me to be more open about my own mental health struggles… "My mental illness doesn’t define me, but it is part of how God made me, so what does He want me to do with this?”

Is there someone you know personally or a public figure that has shared his or her struggle regarding mental illness that has made a difference for you? Please share your thoughts about this or anything else that resonates with you from the post at allie joyful Facebook group.

#grief #pretending #vulnerability