About Me · Mental Health

The Road to Forgiving Myself

“Sometimes the strongest among us are the ones who smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors, and fight battles nobody knows about.”


Hi Friends. It has been a while.


I started this blog as a place to write and free myself. But after my last post being so heavy, I thought I’d lighten it up with something as fluffy as my cat. Makeup, cooking, possibly really something about my cat… I don’t know. Something. Anything.

But I just couldn’t get myself to. My mind wasn’t in the right place to try and lie and make something out of my life, that it was not at the time. And actually… I haven’t been in a good place for a while…

I guess that is where I’ll queue in the next story.

The Road to Rummy Forgiving Myself

I’m smiling.


If you’ve known me for a while, I am almost ALWAYS smiling. I always try to be as positive as I can be. In fact, all I’ve ever wanted to be was a good person. I hold the door open for everyone, I thank everyone almost excessively, I apologize when maybe an apology isn’t even necessary. Or maybe when an apology isn’t even deserved. I’ve always wanted to light the fire inside of everyone else, and show them the joy, beauty, purity, and innocence I saw in life.


But you see, I’ve tried to light so many candles… that I burnt out my own flame in the process.

My entire life I lit too many other candles, watching the wax drip off of mine. I ignored my needs, for the sake of keeping peace everywhere else. For trying to show everyone, that maybe life wasn’t as bad as people thought. I didn’t know what else to do though, but sacrifice my whole self.

I just wanted to be loved. I just wanted to be accepted. I just wanted to be happy.

I just wanted to smile.

And I wanted everyone else to do and feel the same way.

But now I’ve found myself in a place where all of the wax has dripped away. My fuse completely burnt out. And honestly, I don’t know what I am left with anymore. Sometimes I think every one has drained me. And maybe that is true. But often I wonder if I just drained myself.

So enough of the vague… I am just going to dive right in with rest of it, and I hope it goes well. And I say all of what is coming next in hopes that I may be able to help someone else. That maybe someone else will relate, find their voice and courage as well.


*Sigh of relief*

I’ve been waiting so painfully long for years to say that to someone. I’ve held it inside of myself longer than I could bear. I didn’t want a soul to know that I carried so much pain inside of myself. And I just didn’t and couldn’t understand why it happened to me. I couldn’t make any sense of it even if I tried. And if I couldn’t make any sense of it, I didn’t want others to make me feel more guilty and shameful than I already did.

So I blamed myself for years. If my mind couldn’t explain how someone could do this to me, then it must’ve been my own fault. And had this been anyone but myself, I know I would’ve asked them to give themselves Grace repeatedly. But for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I couldn’t allow myself to not feel guilty.

Maybe I had been too friendly. Maybe I did smile too much. Maybe I said something the wrong way. Maybe… maybe.. I asked for it.

And I know I didn’t.

But try and rationalize with a victim of abuse, and all you get to is a wall over and over again. Nothing but the same questions and same results.

The same pain. Over and over again.

I’ve always tried to be a good person. But why, why on earth would someone do this to me?

“Why me?”

And my mind hasn’t been able to make sense of it to this day. All I’m left with is bits and pieces of myself.



And I so badly need to make sense, so that I can stop blaming me. But I know I’ll never get the closure I yearn for, from the person or people that I need it from.

So I need help. I need to learn to forgive myself. I need to learn to stop bullying myself for those things that happened to me and those people that hurt me.

I need to learn that it was NOT my fault. 

I am NOT who those people made me out to be.

And I can’t do it on my own anymore. The therapy that I’ve been getting here and there, just isn’t cutting it. I don’t know how else to handle my thoughts, and all of the mess that is making up my head right now.

So friends, here I am, and here is where I have been hiding for a while… I was officially diagnosed with PTSD from the above incident, Complex-PTSD from a difficult upbringing, Bi-Polar II Disorder that is genetic, Depression (a combination of what I’ve dealt with my whole life, and a part that showed its face worse after giving birth twice), and Anxiety. And I don’t know how to handle the weight of all of my burdens and pain anymore. And where to go after finding out all of these diagnoses. It’s crushing and crippling me and affecting every aspect of my life.

So I’m going to give myself a break. One that I’ve needed far too long.

I’m checking into a voluntary mental health treatment center. And I start in 2 weeks.

I’m scared. I’m anxious. I’m nervous, and I’m sad. And I feel oh so GUILTY leaving my beautiful kids, and amazing husband behind to do this.

But for the first time in so long, I also feel and see HOPE.

Hope that I’ll learn to stop being my worst enemy. Hope that I’ll learn to finally cope instead of hurting quietly inside of myself. Hope that I’ll be the wife my amazing husband/best friend deserves, and the lively mother my children need.

I have hope that I’ll want to love myself for the first time in a long time.

And most of all, I have hope that I’ll finally learn to forgive myself.

And in doing so, I will finally set myself FREE.

So friends, all I ask for from you, is love. I need to be reminded that I have a purpose, until I know and understand my purpose for myself. I’ve got two weeks to go, and I’ll be gone for roughly 20 days. And when I come back, I will God willingly be the ME I have dreamt of being my whole life.

Thank you for supporting me. For following my journey. For cheering me on. I promise I will repay each one of you with the same kindness you have shown me.

See you on the other side. ❤

MUCH love,

Rummy ❤


(P.S To my dear husband, Devon… Thank you.

From the deepest depths of my soul, I can’t explain how thankful and grateful I am for you. Thank you for being the best husband, my best friend, my confidante. For wiping my tears, holding me at every hour of the night. Standing up for me. Standing beside me. For being my everything and holding me and our family strong when I was at my weakest. You are a God given gift to me. And I love you more than you will ever understand. I hope you know that. <3)


Mental Health · Motherhood

My Fight Back To Life


It was the moment that I had waited 9 long months for.

I had begged God for weeks, to hurry him along. To just let my body do its thing, so that I could hold him. I just wanted to love him with my entire being. I was so eager and so excited. I could hardy wait another second more.

I just wanted to be his mom.

And after going a week past my due date and laboring for 11 brutal hours, he was here. My son Ayaan was born. And I was so in love – he was perfect. Ten little fingers, ten little toes. I finally had in my arms, what I had asked God for. My prayer was granted.

But now what? No one had prepared me for what was to follow next.

It was SO much harder than I had ever imagined it would be. I was tired all of the time – I barely slept. I was awoken by cries every two hours for a feed. And though my amazing husband tried to be as helpful as possible, this little soul, Ayaan, only really knew and needed me. Only I produced the milk his body craved (though I wish my husband could’ve done that too, but that’s a whole ‘nother request for God.)  My body had provided Ayaan with the safety and comfort that was his home for 9 months. He only really needed and wanted me in this unfamiliar world.

I was becoming depleted.

I was giving everything I had in me to give. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. But I was just becoming so lost in this parenting thing. And then the sadness followed closely behind. Why am I failing? Why am I having such a hard time being a mom?

“Am I even a good mother?”

And it didn’t help seeing other mothers on social media, doing so damn good. They smiled. They seemed so put together. Their children seemed so advanced. And they just made motherhood look so darn easy. Yet here I was… a mess. I was overwhelmed, and doubting every aspect of my being. Doubting if I was good enough. And I just kept wondering why I was doing this to myself. I had every reason to be joyful.

Yet, I was breaking apart inside.

This sweet little face looked up at me and smiled. And all I could do was drop tears back down to meet him. He didn’t deserve a mom that couldn’t keep it together… He deserved much more.


I pushed family and friends completely away. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. If you’ve known me for a while. You’d know that I was bright, full of so much happiness and optimism. But this was the complete opposite version of myself. You would have never guessed that such a darkness laid inside of me. And as it started to surface, I wanted no one to see me like this.

I didn’t know how to act normal anymore. How do I smile, when all I want to do is cry? How do I go outside and see daylight, when under the covers in darkness is where I want to be. How can I possibly make small talk, when I’m fighting these brutal beasts inside of my own head.

And even when I tried to talk about it, no one seemed to understand.

I could be in a room full of people, and yet I would feel so separated and alone. 

Days turned into weeks, that turned into months that passed me by. I had some good days that fooled me, and made me believe that it was a phase; that I was just thinking this depression up in my head. And I really didn’t want to have to “rely” on medication to make me happy again. But after making it 9 agonizing months, I started realizing this couldn’t be normal. It was not normal to spend more days crying than not. It was not normal to feel hatred towards getting out of bed in the morning. And it definitely was not normal to wonder if my child would be better off without me.

I realized, I needed help.

After a heart to heart with my mother, she recognized what I was going through; she had suffered after I was born, as well. And she urged me to speak to my doctor. And so I did just that.

And friends, I upset myself to this day, that I waited that long to get help. I started taking the medication prescribed to me. And though it took a month to kick in, it was a day and night difference in how I felt, behaved, and the person that I was.

It wasn’t until the light finally shined through, that I realized how truly dark it was where I had been.

I was me again. I was happy again. I smiled from the inside out. And I actually meant it.

The darkness had lifted. 


For years I kept this inside of myself to protect myself from the stigma associated with mental illnesses. I worried what people would think of me. I worried about the judgement. But as I slowly started opening up to close friends, what I found was the polar opposite of that. I found support, solace, and SO much love. I felt so FREE.

And I found out, I wasn’t alone.

I have found myself struggling once more, perhaps worse, since the birth of my beautiful Sofia. That’s a story I may be able to explain more in due time. But I am better armed with more knowledge and the proper resources this time around. And I am currently getting the help that I need to overcome this.

So friends, if you have read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart for listening. I share this experience with you, so that those of you that may relate, know you are not alone. So that maybe I might bring more awareness that post-partum depression is a real thing that exists, and happens to unsuspecting people like me and like you. And maybe, it may give you courage to open up and share your story, too. And I share this so that those friends and family members that I pushed away may understand why I did so, and why I may be doing it again now. I’m sorry for ignoring you; for reading those messages and never replying. I hope you understand.

May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and I urge you to check in on any mother you may know. Ask them how they are doing. Ask them how you can help. And if you could, remind them how amazing of a job they are doing. Because just that could be the words that they were longingly yearning to hear.

With so much love from my heart to yours,

Rummy ❤