Journaling Helps... Give It A Try!

YOUR STORY ISN'T OVER YET!

Mental health journal for the person who is in recovery, practicing self-care or just needs to express themselves. A great gift for the Mental Health Warriors! Pour out your thoughts and feelings and in reflection, see the progress you are making on your unique journey. "Your Story Isn't Over Yet" is printed across the cover.
Swirling shapes, colors and overlapping lines create a meditative rhythm that can lift your spirits — like stained glass caught in a slow tide. The teals and purples in the semi-colon embedded at the center represent suicide awareness, Can you see it? Click here to see in my web store!

Important: The semicolon (;) symbolizes mental health awareness, suicide prevention, and the continuation of life, representing a sentence the author could have ended but chose not to. Popularized by Project Semicolon, it signifies that the wearer's story is not over, highlighting strength in battling depression, addiction, and self-harm. This is a good way to start that "awkward" conversation for someone who is struggling. A portion of the profits for this item goes to the 988 Crisis Line.

This hardcover journal carries a calm, artful presence—hand-painted swirls of bold colors and a teal and purple semi-colon weave across a matte cover while a gentle message peeks through the design. It opens flat thanks to case-wrap binding and 150 lined pages give you space for daily notes, reflections, or unfolding ideas. The perforated sheets let you share a page without fuss. Light, durable, and quietly expressive, it slips into a bag for a coffee shop session or waits on your nightstand for late-night thoughts.

The Gift....(Humor)

Dear Diary,

For my birthday this year, my Husband (the dear) purchased a
week of personal training at the local health club for me.

Although I am still in great shape since being a high school
football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to
go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal
trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics
instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.

My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The
club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

________________________________

MONDAY:

Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found
it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo
waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair,
dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!

Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed
watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!

Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was
already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. This is
going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!

_______________________________

TUESDAY:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the
door.Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into
the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the
treadmill, but I made the full mile. His rewarding smile made it all
worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.

_______________________________

WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on
the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I
have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try
to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.

Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams
bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on
the stair monster.. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it
would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.
_______________________________

THURSDAY:

Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed
as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't
help being a half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes.

He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking,
I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny bitch to find me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine
-- which I sank.

_________________________________

FRIDAY:

I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever
hated any other human being in the history of the world.
Stupid, skinny, anemic,anorexic little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any
triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the
drama coach or the choir director?

________________________________

SATURDAY:

Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating,
shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his
voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven
straight hours of the Weather Channel.
________________________________

SUNDAY:

I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can
go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next
year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root
canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!

Growing Popcorn

 When I was around eight years old, I learned about the process plants go through when they grow from a seed. I did little experiments to see how they grew under different conditions. I placed seeds in clear containers... some with just wet paper towels, some with rocks, some with sand, some in nothing but water, and some with soil. I was able to watch the growth process and learned hands on what worked and made a plant grow. I was fascinated with seeing the seeds break open and watching the roots come out and begin to stretch themselves out and take hold. Of course, some of them only grew to a certain point. The ones that I placed on wet paper towels opened and branched out, but not having soil to expand into, they died. But not before I got a really good look at the beginning of the growth process. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

My mom had a garden in the back yard and I started helping her tend to it. I learned to spot weeds, when it needed watering and so on. I decided to plant something of my own. I didn’t have any seeds or seedlings from my experiments left, so I decided to ask my mom for some seeds. I didn’t care what they were, I just wanted to make something grow. She promised that the next trip into town, we would pick me up some flower seeds that I could plant along the front walk leading to our front door. I didn’t have much in the way of patience back then. I didn’t want to wait a few days... Then I thought of it! Every week, we had family movie night and we made popcorn to go with it! SEEDS!! I asked my mom if they would grow and she said she didn’t think so, but we could find out. She pulled the big bag of popcorn kernels out of the freezer and gave me a handful.

Feeling victorious, I ran outside, grabbed a trowel and the watering can and got my hands in the dirt. I was going to make something grow! In my mind, we would have popcorn for life! I carefully planted the seeds along the walkway and gave them a nice dousing of water. I knew it would be a few days before they pushed their way through the soil, so I went out and checked them each morning. Finally, they sprouted! I ran and got my mom and showed her, she smiled broadly and said I’d done a good job. I was so very proud and began planning my future as a farmer.

A few days went by and I walked out to see my crop, and found that the plants had been cut back! I called my mom out to the front yard and said something had happened to my plants. She looked at them and pointed out that they were still alive and growing. I asked her what happened to them, and she told me that my dad probably cut them, not knowing what they were. I realized that we hadn’t told him about my project, so I would have to let him know.

Then I forgot to tell him. A few more days later, I woke up to the faint sound of the lawnmower running. MY POPCORN!! I jumped out of bed and ran outside just in time to see my dad run over my crop... and he was going for the gusto! He ran back and forth over them and he looked determined and downright vindictive about it. I literally screamed on horror! “DADDY STOP!!”

He looked up at me in surprise and turned off the mower. In tears, I ran down the steps and over to where he stood and fell to my knees and ran my hands over my butchered plants. My father’s surprise dissolved into confusion and concern.

“What’s wrong babygirl?” he asked.

I tearfully answered, “You killed my popcorn!”.

“What?”

“You ran over my popcorn plants with the mower!” I pointed to where they were planted.

“Popcorn? I’m sorry babygirl! I thought they were weeds!” I looked up at him and saw pure guilt on his face. He was mortified. “I didn’t know. I never would have run over them if I’d known.” He knelt down next to me and looked at the mutilated plants. “I’m so sorry.” He hugged me and wiped the tears off my face.

“I forgot to tell you,” I sniffled. He hugged me again and offered to buy me some flower seeds to plant along the walk and assured me that he wouldn’t harm them in any way. I planted marigolds and zinnias, and I planted more popcorn in my mom’s garden... Those were the first and last plants I would ever grow successfully. I have the proverbial black thumb. I can’t even keep a cactus alive. I had one for two weeks and it died. I even tell people not to give me plants because it’s not fair to the innocent plant.

Many years later, I would be diagnosed with my mental disorders. It was something else I didn’t tell my dad. I didn’t tell my mom either. Not right away. I had gotten into the habit of only telling them what they wanted to hear. Since I didn’t understand my disorders, I didn’t talk about them. As I discovered who I am, both in the realm of my mental illness and outside of it, it got harder to tell them what was going on with me. Since I didn’t tell them how much I had fallen apart, they didn’t know what not to say or do as I was going through the painstaking process of putting myself back together. They said a lot of wrong things, completely not knowing that it was hurtful and even set me back in my recovery. The more they hurt me, the more that I kept from them. I was literally fighting for my life, and they didn’t know it. My point, and I do have one, is that you can’t expect people to know the things that you don’t tell them. In the years since, I have tried to tell them more about who I am, and my relationship with them is a struggle towards open communication, but there is so much they still don’t understand because I didn't opt to bring them along on my journey. As a result, they will always only have part of the picture.

People who care about you will say the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time and it is painful. But do they have all the information? I barely spoke to my parents for several years BECAUSE they didn’t have all the facts. When it comes to your recovery or anything important or life-changing, talk about it. There are people you love who are only working with small pieces of information, and don’t have the whole picture. The new flowers you are planting haven’t grown into something others fully recognize, and might look foreign to them. Tell your story. Advocate for yourself. Your path is your own, and it’s unique to you... so just don’t let anyone run over it with a lawnmower.

Suicide Prevention and Awareness Supporter's 40oz Tumbler

 

This suicide prevention and awareness themed tumbler serves as a meaningful mental

health awareness gift, featuring a vibrant colorful abstract design on a large 40oz

thermal insulated vacuum travel mug. Show support with drinkware that combines practical

functionality with purposeful symbolism, showcasing a bold wraparound pattern with

teal-and-purple awareness ribbons that honor advocacy and compassion."It's Okay if you feel broken. I have tape and glue" is printed on bottom half of cup. The

teals and purples represent suicide awareness, along with the semi-colon that is embedded

in the design. Can you find it? 

Important: The semicolon (;) symbolizes mental health awareness, suicide prevention, and

the continuation of life, representing a sentence the author could have ended but chose not

to. Popularized by Project Semicolon, it signifies that the wearer's story is not over, high-

lighting strength in battling depression, addiction, and self-harm. This is a good way to start

that "awkward" conversation for someone who is struggling. The profits from the sale of this

item goes to support The 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.

To shop this item online, click here or any of the above images of the travel mug.

Watermelon Possession

 

My Guiding Light On My Recovery Journey: Enter Delilah!

The beginning of my recovery was the culmination of many things. I had gotten tired of trying to die, my husband (who was and is the great love of my life) and I separated and I needed to learn to take care of myself. It crossed my mind that at some point in the future, my daughter would come back into my life, and I needed to be able to be there for her. And I had arrived at rock bottom. My survival instinct had kicked in and I was ready to face myself and take responsibility for what my life was, as well as what it was going to be. After my 8th suicide attempt, I had finally started to consider getting better rather than absolute surrender to the darkness and that’s when I met Delilah.  

When I left the hospital, I had gotten a referral to Red Rock Behavioral Health Services. I wasn’t really sure what they could do to help me. I figured it would be all pills and head shrinking. I went there at the appointed time, on the appointed date to meet with some chick named Delilah. I expected her to be some worn out social worker who would spew slogans and catchphrases at me and tell me how strong I really am. Imagine my surprise when I met her and she grinned from ear to ear, introduced herself, and then said, “I’m here to help you in any way that I can.” She’s a short plump ball of pleasantry, and I had this immediate feeling that things really were about to get better... but I tried to rein that feeling in because I didn’t want to be disappointed. She was a symbol of a fresh start, and I wasn’t sure that I had another fresh start in me.  

We went to her office, which was a warm and cheerful place... it was a direct reflection of who she is. I sat down on the VERY comfortable sofa and took a deep breath. So, it begins... “recovery”. I didn’t even know what that meant. Fortunately, Delilah did. She explained to me that she would be my case manager and help me navigate the process of getting back on my feet. She explained that while she would provide me with resources, it would be my responsibility to use them. I didn’t expect that. I thought she was supposed to fix me! How could I possibly be responsible for my own recovery? It couldn’t keep a cactus alive! It suddenly seemed to me that this was going to be like the band playing on as the Titanic sank. 

Then she did something that I never saw coming. She asked me what my goals were. I told her that I wanted to be okay and not have this constant misery and fear screaming through my head at all times. She said, “So you want a sense of good wellbeing.” YES! That was it! I wasn’t operating under the idea that everything had to be happy all the time, I just wanted to be okay when it wasn’t. 

 She talked to me for over an hour, walking me through the process of not only reaching my goals, but establishing what those goals were. She had me rank those goals in order of importance, which I did, and instead of throwing me into the deep end of the wellness pool, she guided me to the shallow end.  

I had already visited the med clinic and had several prescriptions. I hadn’t felt a difference yet, but I was hopeful. She told me that getting the right meds would probably take a while and advised me to be completely honest about how I was feeling physically and mentally when talking to my prescriber. I felt a pang of disappointment that I wouldn’t be cured immediately by meds, but I knew from talking to Delilah, it was going to take more than pills and platitudes for me to have a better sense of wellbeing. “Wellbeing”. That was her word. Not “fix”, “cure” or “happy”. I was going to find my own way; she was there as a combination of a coach and cheerleader. The game was mine to play.  

About a year after my first visit with her, I was living on a friend's couch, still looking for the right meds, and wondering if I was kidding myself. The final suicide attempt had happened a few months prior, and triggered a change in the approach to my meds. Suddenly there was a small change... I didn’t want to die, and my brain wasn’t screaming like it used to. I gradually stopped falling completely apart at every little thing. The meds started working. Now I just needed to start on creating a life for myself. I needed to learn how to live and thrive even though I had disorders. I needed to learn to manage my life. Delilah had suggested that I start going to support groups at Red Rock so I could gain an understanding of how my mind worked... or sometimes didn’t. I joined three groups and was at Red Rock 3 times a week. It helped, but I needed more, and I knew it.  

Then Delilah asked me if I would be interested in moving into Red Rock’s housing program. It was temporary housing that was there to help people get back on their feet. I knew I needed to learn to take care of myself on a mental level, and I didn’t quite know where to start. Red Rock’s housing program would help. I would learn to function with my disorders, learn basic life skills, establish boundaries, and learn to take care of my whole self- mind, body, and spirit. I got on the waiting list and then did the only thing I could at that time...I waited.  

While I was waiting, one piece of drama after another cropped up. I was handling most of them well, except for one... I missed my husband and the security he provided. On one occasion I called him and left him a voicemail tearfully telling him that I missed him and wanted him back. My living situation was not great at that point, and I called him out of pure desperation. After I did that. Something unique happened... I regretted the call. I wasn’t above begging before then, but all of a sudden, I was upset with myself for having done it. I decided to tell Delilah about it. When I told her, she got annoyed. “Girl, you better call him and take all that back right now! The reason you regret it is because you have found your sense of dignity! Call him now!” I was so stunned that I did exactly that. I got his voicemail and told him, “I want to apologize to you for my last call. It wasn’t fair to you or me. I am going to be okay on my own one way or another. I just wanted to let you know, and I am sorry... for all of it.” When I hung up, I looked at Delilah and she was smiling. I asked her what she was grinning about and she said, “You are making progress.” I stared at her like she had lost her mind. “How was me begging him to love me again progress?” She calmly replied, “I didn’t have to tell you what to say. You knew what needed to be said. You knew what was healthy for you and what wasn’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have even brought it up.” The end result of my calling him back was that he became open to talking to me again now that I wasn't putting all my woes in his lap to deal with. A few weeks later, we literally started “dating”, and would eventually become roommates as I continued on my own path of recovery. After a couple of years, we fully reunited because we had become a team rather than two people wrapped in a viscous codependent cycle with no end in sight. 

Delilah made it a habit to sneakily point out my progress. She didn’t do anything FOR me. She just showed me different directions and let me walk down the path I chose. It wouldn’t be until years later that I would realize that she was one of the people God put in my path at the exact right time. She was the one who told me about the Peer Recovery Support Specialist program, where I could help people on their journey. She mentioned it to me casually...and it stuck. Seven years later I would go into the training for it and successfully get my state certification. That eventually lead to me getting my behavioral health case manager certification as well. 

I once said that Delilah gave me a future. She replied, “No. You did that. I just told you about the resources available to you and you acted on them. Always remember that your recovery is in your hands, and no one else’s”. She was my case manager and became my mentor. I found myself wanting to be like her. She lives a life in service to others, and not many people can do that and keep it balanced. She does it with grace and dignity. It’s my goal to be like her, while still being myself and walking this path that is my life. She genuinely doesn’t know how inspirational she is to me. So, this is me, telling the world that Delilah Grayson didn’t save my life, but she helped me reclaim it. And it’s good. 

  

Suicide Awareness and Prevention...Show Your Support!

IT'S SUICIDE AWARENESS & PREVENTION MONTH!

CLICK THE IMAGE TO SHOW YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT!!

This relaxed cotton tee feels like a quiet pep talk you can wear. The artwork — swirling teal, purple and lavender forms — frames the gentle message: “YOU ARE VERY NECESSARY.” It sits on the chest as a calm, colorful reminder that presence matters. Lightweight but sturdy, the shirt drapes easily over everyday layers and keeps its shape after washes. Wear it to a coffee shop, a community meeting, or on slow weekend mornings when you need a little encouragement. The vibe is warm, thoughtful, and quietly bold — a wearable nod to self-worth that starts conversations without shouting. The teals and purples represent suicide awareness, along with the semi-colon that is embedded in the design. Can you see it?
Important: The semicolon (;) symbolizes mental health awareness, suicide prevention, and the continuation of life, representing a sentence the author could have ended but chose not to. Popularized by Project Semicolon, it signifies that the wearer's story is not over, highlighting strength in battling depression, addiction, and self-harm. This is a good way to start that "awkward" conversation for someone who is struggling. 

The profits for this item goes to support the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.