Name
Diane Smith

Age
78

How long have you lived in Baytown?
74 years; in 2021 I moved out of state with my daughter, my only surviving relative. She was also ready for a change.

Most interesting fact about you
I’m an amateur writer — short stories and novelettes, poetry and derivative works — and retirement now gives more time for this fascinating hobby.

Background
My entire family was from Mississippi. My father settled in Goose Creek after WWII. After retiring from Enterprise Products following 20 years, I operated my own pet-sitting business for six years. It truly was the best job I ever held. I kept 155 dogs and a few cats, and made good friends along the way.

Goals
I said in 2019, ‘If I have a goal now, late in life, it’s simply to move to a cooler climate.’ Goal accomplished in 2021! After doing some research and finally selling the family homestead, we headed due north and didn’t stop until we were only 60 miles from the Canadian border. We had to quickly learn about installing automobile block heaters, placing weights in the trunk for traction, purchasing the right kind of snow boots, equipping the car with a survival kit, and learning how to drive in deep snow. In Baytown, 4 inches shut the town down. Here, we deal with 4 feet. Blizzards are nothing if we keep the larder stocked, and we are free from the fear of hurricanes and the stings of fire ants and wasps!  

Challenges
We suffered a strange set of coincidences for 27 years. We lost a member of our family every nine years, like clockwork. My husband Larry passed in 1991, my father in 2000, my son in 2009 and my brother in 2018. My husband was the victim of a homicide. I lost my son to alcoholism. He had been unable to cope with his father’s death. After court appearances and several interviews with the local victim’s advocate, Click2Houston news and KTRK-TV news, I came to feel as if my story was only filler for their programs. Nothing was done, or could be done, about the seemingly endless rounds of appeals that Larry’s murderer was granted. That sense of helplessness, coupled with the grief over my son’s death, made each day a torment. I had, as my son once told me, ‘a memory on every corner.’ The only solution was to move. I have found peace of mind and a sense of well-being in my new environment. I’ve also found a greater sense of security, because I have never publicly let it be known where I am. It may sound melodramatic, but I had been very outspoken against Larry’s killer and done what little I could to speed his execution. He had Larry’s wallet and all our information. Should Larry’s killer be paroled — and this is in the realm of possibility — he cannot find us. Meanwhile, I fight against privileges he still enjoys, aided by misguided European support groups, and against his publishing a book touting his innocence. Other than that, the State of Texas can tend to its own machinations without me. I’ve made peace with the concept of never receiving justice.

Happiest or saddest moment
Despite my deep roots and attachment to the town of my birth (I precede Baytown, as I was born in Goose Creek), the happiest day to date has been leaving the old home behind, without a backward glance. My quest is to move forward, and this I’ve done since 2021. In addition to never knowing what the weather is going to do, to my daily activities, everything is new and fresh, with endless possibilities, new faces and the friendliest people I’ve ever met.

Advice
I hope to inspire other young widowed women to realize that they have it within themselves to meet life’s hardships, knock them down, step over them and go forward. Change is the only constant in the universe. Prepare to meet it and twist it to your advantage. I have proved that, even in old age, it’s possible.

Currently reading or watching
My favorite books have always been biographies and historical fiction. Currently I’m reading “Young Woman and the Sea” by Glenn Stout. I’m hoping for a fourth season of “Leverage: Redemption.”

Favorite thing to do in Baytown
I miss all the various Baytown restaurants, especially 888! We finally got a Taco Bell here, which soothes my craving considerably. Favorite thing to do here is sit on my fifth-floor balcony, making macrame plant hangers and watching the horses cavort in the meadow nearby. Life is good.

The post Moving forward despite tragedy appeared first on The Baytown Project.

Sky Allen McSpadden proudly served in the United States Navy for nine years, based in Jacksonville, Florida. For five of those years, he was stationed aboard the USS Halyburton, a period of service that took him across the world — to places like Greece, Spain, London, Africa, Bahrain and the Seychelles. His recruiter told him he’d see the world, and he did.

Sky deployed three times to Somalia, where he actively engaged in anti-piracy missions. One of his most memorable deployments was in 2009, when the USS Halyburton played a key role in the rescue of Captain Richard Phillips after he was taken hostage by Somali pirates. Sky was also aboard the ship during the filming of the movie “Captain Phillips,” starring Tom Hanks — an experience he never forgot.

His time in the Navy gave him a deep sense of pride. But when his sea duty ended and he was assigned to shore duty, things changed. Life behind a desk couldn’t compare to the thrill and purpose he had found at sea. Eventually, Sky made the decision to return home.

After returning, he met the love of his life. Together, they bonded over their shared love of animals. They competed in dog shows, trained dogs at home, and built a life centered on care, companionship and love.

On the morning of April 15, 2024, Sky passed away in his sleep — just days before a trip to Colorado, where he and his wife were to hold their wedding ceremony. His sudden passing left a profound void in the lives of those who knew and loved him.

Sky was not only a sailor, he was an artist at heart. One of his paintings depicted a solitary sailor with his sea bag, preparing to head out to sea. That image inspired a mural now being painted on our building in his honor. It serves as a tribute to his service and a way to keep his spirit alive in our community.

In his memory, we wear bracelets that say “Sky’s the Limit.” Friends and family carry these bracelets on their own travels and adventures, posting and sharing photos wherever they go — continuing Sky’s journey, one memory at a time.

— Karen Hefner, proud Blue Star Mom

The post Mom honors Navy son’s service appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“Grief doesn’t just bring tears. It enters your heart, your bones, your spirit, every movement and breath you take. Losing our daughter Cynthia Dawn’s fiancé, Daniel Blanchard, in 2019 to mesothelioma brought such agony to his parents, Edward and Maria Blanchard, and their family, as well as heartbreak to ours. The Blanchards suffered a loss no parent wants to experience, and Dawn faced the loss of the love of her life.

“Dawn had reconnected with Daniel in the fall of 2018. When she was a freshman at Baytown Lee High School, she had a crush on Daniel, but never told him. Ironically, a mutual hairstylist, Raphael Melendez, shared the story of Dawn’s crush with Daniel. Daniel called Dawn, and that phone call turned into a powerful love story.

“Both Cynthia Dawn and Daniel were living their own survival stories filled with incredible pain and medical obstacles. They understood what it was like to greet every morning with questions, doctors, hospitals, fear, hope and setbacks.

“Daniel had been diagnosed in 2013 with mesothelioma. Dawn was diagnosed with lupus in 1995 at the age of 20. Her original diagnosis would change, become a question mark, but ultimately would fall into the catch-all autoimmune disease, until it was finally labeled granulomatosis with polyangiitis. In 2008 she was diagnosed with kidney cancer, which resulted in the loss of her left kidney.

“With all they had suffered, were suffering, none of it diminished the light and love they shared. They literally lit up a room with their smiles and joy.

“Then on Jan. 26, 2022, the unthinkable agony of grief hit again with our family and the Blanchards. Our Cynthia Dawn, our Wonder Woman, who had lived 27 years with devastating disease, gave her last breath as one of her favorite songs played, ‘Magic,’ by Olivia Newton-John. Our families were again joined by the grief of losing a child.

“In the days following Dawn’s death, my husband, Charlie, our youngest daughter, Carrie, and I barely functioned. All we could do was put one foot in front of the other. All we could ask one another was, ‘What do we do now?’

“In an attempt to do something other than cry, Charlie and I started making earrings. It was something we had done prior to the COVID pandemic. We even attended events where we sold them. Creating became therapeutic. It was as if wire and beads became a guide to help us move forward.

“One day Carrie said, ‘You have so many of them now. Why don’t you give them away, because the act of giving is healing.’ That is how our project we’ve titled ‘4 Cynthia Dawn’ began.

“We knew Dawn and Daniel wouldn’t want to be remembered for their illnesses. They were two people filled with so much life and accomplishment. That is the story they would want told. It is an inspiring story of moving forward when life is doing everything it can to stop you. So we give away the earrings we make with hope whomever receives them will share the story, be encouraged when they wear them, or perhaps pass the gift on to someone else who needs encouragement.

“Dawn and Daniel’s story is one of love, passion to move forward, to not give up or give in to despair. Our families, the Blanchards and the Clevengers, want others to know what it was like to be Dawn Wonder Woman and Daniel Strong. So here’s a little about what each accomplished while battling illness.

“Dawn attended University of Houston, where she was co-president of Pi Sigma Alpha, the National Political Science Honor Society at UH. She interned for Houston City Council, as well as Galveston-Houston Association of Smog Prevention. In 2007 Dawn was selected by Senator Rodney Ellis to serve as a Texas state legislative aide. In December 2007, she graduated magna cum laude with double bachelor of arts degrees in political science and communications-journalism. She later went to work for the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality, where she oversaw the Back the Bay Program. She worked with TV and radio as well as developed PSA posters aimed at improving the environmental quality of Galveston Bay by increasing the public’s awareness of the bay’s value. The campaign was later revamped, and Dawn promoted the slogan, ‘What Happens in Houston, Ends Up in Galveston Bay.’ She loved to travel. Twice she journeyed to London and once to Australia alone, to explore both destinations. Dawn wasn’t concerned about traveling without friends or family. She knew wherever she went, there were strangers waiting to become friends.

“After his devastating diagnosis of mesothelioma, Daniel created his motto for life, ‘Live Life Forward,’ and he did that with passion. He did it knowing his disease was terminal. He did it while taking chemotherapy. He skydived, traveled to Italy, and in 2016 became a marathon runner. He ran 15 full and half-marathons, which included the Houston-Galveston area, Austin, San Antonio as well as Big Sur in California. His chemotherapy sessions at MD Anderson Cancer Center connected him with strangers who all had a story to tell, and a need for encouragement. Daniel would listen to them, learn a bit about them, and even on the days when he wasn’t getting his own chemotherapy, he would return with gifts, give encouragement, and sit with those who were facing the biggest struggle of their lives. Daniel didn’t just speak about love, he lived it.”

— Susie Clevenger

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“My youngest daughter married in October 2016. In 2017, our church offered a Dave Ramsey study on saving and investing for retirement, and how to stay out of debt. I signed the newlyweds up for it. I signed up for it, too, to give them moral support.

“During the video, Dave Ramsey talked about the importance of having a current will. It got me thinking. My husband and I had wills, but they were drawn up when our kids were babies. My husband’s brother was the executor of the estate. Our kids were now out of college. My husband’s brother was dead.

“I went home and told my husband that I thought we needed to update our wills. He agreed. Our CPA directed us to talk to an attorney she liked in Houston. He sat us down in a room together. We were asked to discuss, ‘Do you want to be buried or cremated? How far do you want the doctors to go with your care if you are hospitalized?’ These were topics we never discussed. We were too busy talking about colleges, boyfriends and weddings. After we talked, the attorney drew up new wills, directives to physicians, and powers of attorney. My husband transferred this onto a thumb drive for easy access.

“That was taken care of. I returned to being in charge. I owned my own veterinary practice. I was the one my employees came to when they were having teenager problems or when they were going through a divorce. I held clients’ hands when I had to tell them that the dog or cat they had for over 10 years had a terminal disease. Everyone depended on me.

Morning to remember

“My life changed forever on July 12, 2019. It was a Friday. It was my day off. Usually on Friday mornings, I would get up early, drive out to my barn, feed and clean, then drive to Conroe 1 1/2 hours away, where I had a horse in training. I would spend the morning riding, then groom my horse before driving back to Baytown to fix dinner.

“But this morning my husband said that I woke him up at 4. I told him that I did not feel well and needed to go to the hospital. He sat up in bed, looked at me, then turned to call 911. The 911 operator dispatched an ambulance and a fire truck to our house.

“As my husband was still on the phone with the dispatcher, he looked back to see me collapse across the bed. ‘I think my wife just died!’ he said. He didn’t know it at the time, but the dispatcher knew me. She used to come into my office with her father when she was a child, with their dog to be treated. She grew very stern with my husband.

“She told him to lay the phone down on the bed, do not hang it up. Walk out to the front yard and wave at the fire truck driver so that he would not pass up our house. My husband did exactly as he was told, then came back inside.

“Within seconds, two paramedics charged into our house. They plunged a long needle into my chest, into my heart, and pumped it with epinephrine, and did CPR until one of them declared, ‘I have a heart beat. Let’s transport.’ They told my husband that they were transporting me to the large local hospital in Baytown. They loaded me into a waiting ambulance and drove away.

“The last thing that my husband did before leaving our house was put the thumb drive — with the legal documentation that the attorney had prepared for us the year before — into his pocket.

Professionals take charge

“At the hospital at 5 that morning was a blessing in disguise. A Baytown cardiologist just happened to be in the emergency room when the ambulance arrived with me. At the time, the ER doctor and paramedics thought that I had suffered a heart attack.

“The cardiologist looked at the preliminary lab work that the ER doctor had run. ‘This does not look like a heart attack,’ he said. ‘I would look at her brain.’ The ER doctor scanned my brain, and that’s when he found it. I had a ruptured brain aneurysm.

“My chance of survival was less than 10%. The ER doctor got permission from my husband to Life Flight me to a large major medical facility in Houston for neurosurgery.

“A neurosurgeon successfully coiled my bleeding aneurysm. Over the next week, the chief neurosurgeon joined him as they battled brain swelling and hydrocephalus. No one knew for sure if I would have permanent brain injuries, or if I would even live. They battled on.

The journey back

“My two daughters joined my husband as he waited daily in the neurosurgical unit. My oldest daughter became the comforter. My youngest daughter took charge of communicating with the doctors and nurses as the family spokesperson. Several of their work colleagues and friends arranged for meals to be brought up to the hospital for them.

“A hospital attendant asked my husband if he had legal power of attorney, and did I have a directive to physicians. BOOM! He handed her the thumb drive.

“I spent the next three months in several different medical facilities, learning how to walk, talk, and feed myself again. My youngest daughter bought a communication board for me so that I could communicate with my family. I had been placed on a ventilator and could not talk. I kept that board to remind me of my progress.

“I finally came home mid-October 2019.

Fog begins to lift

“My first memories of my ordeal didn’t occur for almost six weeks after my aneurysm rupture in the third facility that I was in, the TIRR unit at Memorial Hermann Hospital in Houston.

“I remember a sign in my room that said this was the room that Gabby Giffords, former member of the U.S. House of Representatives, occupied after an assassination attempt that left her with a severe brain injury.

“I remember that they brought in a therapy dog to help in my recovery. My family took a picture of the dog lying in bed with me. I remember the day that I was transferred to a transitional rehabilitation facility in a nearby town. TIRR said that I had to leave that day because they already had a patient needing my room. My husband drove me to the next facility during the onslaught of Tropical Storm Imelda. I remember thinking that it was nighttime because it was so dark outside.

“I prayed that God would help us arrive safely in the storm. I also thanked God that this is the man that I married. He continued to fight for me and take care of me. I felt totally helpless to be able to help my husband should we have a problem. I think now that this must be how an animal feels riding in the car, totally at the mercy of its owner.

Simple existence

“When my husband took me to the transitional rehabilitation facility, I was just like an animal. I just accepted everything. I didn’t ask any questions. I never asked about my children, my sisters, my other family, my clinic, my horses or my pets. I simply was there.

“The first day at the center, a patient came up to me. He was from the Virgin Islands. I remember he said, ‘Look at me. Look at me. When I got here, I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t talk. But look at me now. It has been five years since I was able to walk. Do what they tell you, and work hard. You will get better, too. You’ll see.’

“We met with a psychologist once or twice a week. I remember one of my first sessions with him, he said, ‘I don’t think anyone ever told you what happened to you.’ He tossed my medical file to me to read. It was the first time that I began to understand what had happened to me.

“The first few days, the staff had me stay in a wheelchair until they could assess my condition. I had suffered some paralysis on the right side of my body. The doctors had placed a gastrostomy tube to feed me while I was still at the first hospital in Houston because I was having trouble swallowing. I had lost almost 20 pounds.

“I was totally dependent on my caregivers. It was my ‘road to Damascus’ moment. The Lord granted me another chance at life. We are all here to live for Him.

True friend

“A year after I got out of the hospital for the ruptured aneurysm, I was hospitalized again because I was having trouble walking. I was taken by ambulance from our local hospital in Baytown to the large major medical center in Houston where my neurosurgery was done. They kept me for four days. They ran a battery of lab tests on me, X-rays, CAT scans, checked my ventriculoperitoneal shunt, and did viral testing on me. They finally decided that all I had was low blood pressure.

“My bill for four days was over $600,000. My insurance company decided that they were no longer going to pay my hospital bills because they had already paid over $1 million toward my care. Because I’d had their policy for 40 years, I was grandfathered in. They claimed I was exempt from the Affordable Care Act that prohibits lifetime or annual limits on health care coverage. They were no longer responsible. I no longer had insurance. It would be a year before Medicare coverage would kick in. My husband and younger daughter talked to the hospital, and they reduced my bill to $400,000.

“My husband sent the hospital a small payment until our CPA could figure out the best way to pay the bill. A few weeks later, the check was returned with a statement that my balance had been resolved.

“I called my friend J.R., who I had taught Sunday school with for years. J.R. buried several of my old horses that I had to put down. He and his wife came to see me when I was at the transitional rehabilitation facility. I taught one of their children in Sunday school. Later, their son performed my daughter’s wedding ceremony after he became a minister.

“‘J.R.,’ I said, ‘I don’t understand this. They say my balance has been resolved.’ ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘You’ve paid them enough already!’

Today’s reality

“I can no longer perform surgeries, ride a horse, or drive busy roads. I still own my veterinary practice. All my employees stayed that first year. My relief veterinarian quit her other job to run my office. My previous relief veterinarian from nine years ago came and worked during the time my current relief vet was giving her notice to her other employer. Even my sister and my niece, both veterinarians, worked during those first two weeks. Everyone took care of me.

“Almost every day now I walk five miles and do 1 1/2 hours of brain exercises. I am also doing online continuing education for veterinary medicine to maintain my license to practice.

“My life has been changed forever. It has given me a new perspective about what is important. I try to show more compassion and understanding for others. I thank God for the many blessings that I have. Each day and each person matters, and should not be taken for granted.”

Cindy wants people to know that a brain aneurysm is an inheritable condition that can be addressed before it ruptures. The rupture causes bleeding in the brain, sometimes known as a hemorrhagic stroke. She stresses that anyone closely related to a person who had a ruptured aneurysm or hemorrhagic stroke, or who died suddenly of unknown causes, should be evaluated by a medical professional.

The post The day ‘my life changed forever’ appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“For me, it all began with the thought of a rabbit: Alice’s white rabbit from Lewis Carroll’s 1865 book, ‘Through the Looking Glass,’ and how Alice was this curious girl who took chances. Especially into the dark tunnel of the unknown. I respected and related to that more than once in my life, and importantly, during quarantine from COVID-19. Learning to take chances, whether I jump, hop or leap. (Thanks, bunny, it’s infectious.) I’d bypassed the 3-inch caterpillar, Absolem, with his magical mushrooms and hookah, and the ever-grinning and disappearing Cheshire Cat. (It’s that grin plus the teeth — creepy.)

“So the shutdown eventually became mandatory. I already knew how to be isolated and in a dark place. Easy peasy. And when it was announced that consent to travel was needed for essential workers, things really began to snap into place. The easy peasy part for me is clinical depression and anxiety disorder. I’d already been battling with communication in various ways. Masks excluded, until now.

“Then about a month into quarantine I woke up one morning, stood up, and collapsed to the floor. I screeched as I hit. I don’t screech. Maybe a B movie scream queen, but never a screech. I have a disintegrating lower disk and severe osteoarthritis in my hip. Nerve damage. Fun stuff. Migrating from wheelchair to attempt long walks also has been a riot. I’m a sarcastic humanist, go figure. So here I am limited in inconceivable ways, and that damn hole I imagined of Alice looked real comfortable. Corona? Bah! COVID-19? I’m already a zero-to-zip isolationist. I thought I didn’t miss others. I also knew it was not a good place to be. Crazy, not stupid, huh? ‘We’re all mad here!’ says my beloved Mad Hatter, and I knew something had to change. My insurance offered me free counseling, and I was exuberant. Coping skills and treatment planning had me setting goals.

“The Cheshire Cat also says, ‘I’m not crazy, it’s just my reality is different than yours.’ Smart kitty. We’re all different and have different needs. What I love most about our planet is all the cultural differences. Even during the world quarantine, or in spite of it, we’re all battling the same thing. Which gave me an idea. ‘Why sometimes I’ve believed in as many as six different things before breakfast,’ Alice says. See, that’s my girl. I’d always kept a journal, and had written my uncle and aunt in New Mexico when I began to add family and friends, including pen pals as far away as Idaho and Tasmania. And they wrote back. Snail mail rocks! I threw in a surprise in the form of drawings. I began to sketch-pencil, add colors, and I’d even make cards and draw on envelopes.

“So my paradox began with my own world crashing down until I realized that I knew how to crawl out of a dark tunnel and daily reach out to others in a different, yet the same, place. Stepping out of self is the best experience of my life. It’s new adventures from all over the globe, right in my own looking glass.”

“It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person.” — Alice

— Susan M. Plake

The post ‘Down the Rabbit Hole’ appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“At the beginning of 2020, I was excited to be in the last semester for my doctorate at Houston Baptist University. I was finalizing my dissertation to present in March after spring break, and looking forward to graduating in May. Then, during spring break, COVID-19 hit. Everyone was stopped in their tracks. Our campus closed, and students weren’t allowed to return.

“I was nervous that I would not be graduating after three years of research and writing my dissertation. I could not believe this was happening, and that I had no control over it. Thankfully, my dissertation chair agreed that I should move forward with my defense via Zoom. Thank God for technology. I was the first one in the history of HBU to defend my dissertation virtually. I was elated that my dream of achieving the highest level of education was near. My hope in humanity was restored, and I received my doctor of education degree in May as scheduled.

“With all that said, I encourage everyone who is contemplating pursuing their educational goals to take the first step and register for college. Times are tough out there, and many are being laid off. It’s time to find a career you have always wanted. A degree will open so many more doors of opportunity, and you will feel accomplished. As Marian Wright Edelman said, ‘Education is for improving the lives of others and for leaving your community and world better than you found it.’

“So do not let COVID-19 deter you from following your dreams. It almost stopped me for a few weeks. But determination and preseverance won out.”

— Chris Trevino

Chris is a humanities professor at Lone Star College-Houston North Greenspoint. She hopes to move into an administrative role in the post-COVID-19 world.

The post COVID-19 can’t stop doctorate dreams appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“My husband and I have called Crosby home for six years now. We specifically chose Crosby as the place we wanted to raise our family: a smallish, diverse, one-high school town. We immediately fell in love with the culture. And we made that trip to Austin for the football team’s state semifinal playoff game in 2014, just months before our son was born.

“In 2017, I left my job as a nurse administrator in the medical center to start Crosby High School’s Health Science program. It has been great, but we’ve had our share of challenges: hurricanes, floods, a financial crisis, and then COVID. The current pandemic has proven to be a challenge like none we have ever faced as educators. Our campus staff have bonded during this time, and I love to come to work every day. It has been hard, but our students are what truly make it worth it.

“Our football team is preparing for the state championship game, and the ride has been such a bright spot for our school — especially for us as teachers. We attend sporting events at least weekly to cheer for our students, and we rarely miss a football game. We traveled to watch our team take down four top 10-ranked teams on the road to the championship game. But the proudest moment as teachers was watching them interact with Liberty Hill after we beat them last week. Our boys postponed their celebration to console the Liberty Hill players, who had just lost their head coach, Jeff Walker, to cancer in December.

“Our community has rallied around Coach Walker’s wife, presenting her with a check prior to that game. His hat and jersey will accompany Crosby to the state championship game, so I feel like we now have two communities cheering us on.

“It makes us so proud that our students aren’t only successful on the field, but they are showing real character. Crosby needed this bright spot during such a difficult year. It has truly been special.”

— Kristi Thompson

Kristi’s husband, Corbett, also teaches at Crosby High School. The Cougars (12-3) beat Liberty Hill 62-61 in overtime last week. They will play Aledo (12-1) in the Class 5A-Division II championship game at 1 p.m. Friday at AT&T Stadium in Arlington.

The post Teacher proud of character shown by student athletes appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“2020, and with it COVID-19, caused severe strife and strain in many people’s lives. From the loss of a loved one or a job, to financial issues, it was definitely a tough year. For some of us, though, 2020 didn’t create any problems that weren’t already there, whether obvious or hidden beneath the surface. It simply magnified those issues and forced us to deal with them. Personally, 2020 was the year that my severe mental illness caught up with me.

“I’ve suffered from severe depression and anxiety since I was 16 years old. Now at 33, I’ve battled this often misunderstood disease for more than half my life. Somehow, even with several bouts of depressive episodes, I managed to power through. I completed a bachelor’s degree, master’s degree, 200-hour yoga teacher training, and then two pregnancies. I got really good at compartmentalizing my mental health issues: stuffing everything away, not really dealing with anything, and then just living life in survival mode. No big deal. Nothing to see here.

“Growing up, while most little girls dreamed of having babies and getting married, I fantasized about becoming president, a lawyer or a doctor. By the time I reconnected with my now-husband in late 2014 (we knew each other in high school, and I had a huge crush on him when I was 15), I had resigned myself to being #foreveralone. I had two dogs, and a budding social work and yoga career. I was fine. But life obviously had different plans for me. Really, it’s no surprise that my transition into motherhood and marriage has been challenging.

Feeling suicidal

“Fast forward to February 2020, when I told my sister-in-law and another close friend that I was feeling suicidal. My daughter had just turned 1 in September, and I felt like I was finally coming up for air after a brutal year navigating life with an infant and toddler, and again, living in constant survival mode. Robbyn (my sister-in-law) and Lori (my best friend) immediately came to my house and talked me through what I was feeling, and made sure I was safe. The next day they checked on me and encouraged me to contact my psychiatrist, who had been treating me for antepartum/postpartum depression the last for years. I got set up to see her that week, and she increased my dose of Sertraline (generic Zoloft). After a few weeks, I could sense the darkness lifting.

“Then March and COVID-19 came along. I was working part time for Clear Creek ISD in League City. As the State of Texas came to a halting stop — businesses shuttering, schools closing for two weeks to ‘slow the spread’ and ‘flatten the curve’ — I found myself stuck at home, alone and isolated from family, with a 1 1/2-year-old and nearly 4-year-old. April was grueling, as the virus was still so new and so much was unknown. We were not visiting anyone outside of our home. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do. Finally, at the end of the month, I took my kids on a walk to our neighborhood park. I felt so nervous and judged for letting them on community playground equipment. But my sanity was starting to falter. Something had to give.

“By May, I had to call in reinforcements. My mom and stepdad became my saving grace. Every two weeks, they picked up my kids and gave us a 24-36-hour reprieve. Don’t get me wrong, I love my children. But I was never cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. I am happiest when I’m working and putting my skills to use. So I was slowly dying inside each day, at my children’s beck and call.

“The school district was having us attempt to work from home. That meant I was on Zoom through March and April, while my kids screamed in the background. Then I had to stay up late to answer emails and complete documentation in peace. It wasn’t working for me. It was too stressful, and my productivity was nonexistent. My colleagues and boss could tell. So I turned in my two weeks’ notice and left my position by the middle of May. I began assisting with screening stations at the entrances of the hospital where I also work, as my regular assignment in the case management department was forced to reduce usage of PRN staff. My dad watched the kids so I could go to work two or three times a week, which I looked forward to doing. We powered through the summer months, finally getting used to the ‘new normal’ of social distancing, mask wearing and, for the most part, staying home.

‘Something in me snapped’

“At the end of August, though, something in me snapped. We had moved into a new home at the end of July (in hindsight, moving in the midst of a pandemic, during the second wave no less, might have been a poor choice). We were struggling with an ant infestation at our new place. One day, as they were marching through our garage, inches from the door to the interior of our house, just a feet from our pantry, I flipped out. My husband and I got into a massive argument over buying ant poison. I stormed inside and locked myself in our bedroom. I was sobbing and struggling to catch my breath. I felt completely out of control. I knew something had to change, and fast. I was either going to hurt myself or someone else. So I texted my best friend, Lori, and told her how I was feeling and that I was contemplating checking into a mental hospital. She encouraged me to pack a bag and go. And that’s what I did. Without saying another word, I packed a bag, got into my car, and drove across Houston to check into Houston Behavioral Hospital. I was shaking and nervous to go inside. But I finally mustered the courage to get out of the car and enter the building. 

“While I was going through intake, answering questions from the Columbia Suicide Severity Rating Scale (an assessment tool that I was familiar with as part of my line of work), I started to feel like I had made a huge mistake. Anxiety set in, and my mind starting racing. Did I really want to do this? Was I just being dramatic? Who would take the kids to preschool the next day? Crap! Their nap mats are in my trunk. The mortgage is due, and I’m the only one with the login info. I wanted to tell the staff never mind and just leave, go home, and pretend like everything was OK. I decided to call my husband and let him know where I was and that I was about to be admitted. I told him I would have to turn off my phone and turn it in to be locked away while I was in the hospital. He told me to do what I needed and take care of myself.

“‘Take care of myself.’ What a novel idea. So many times, the needs of women and mothers are placed on the back burner. We take care of everyone and everything else, and we are left with very little energy or time to tend to our own health. It’s a tragedy and an American epidemic. No paid maternity leave, no paid partner/spousal leave, and very little postpartum care/follow-up allows room for a whole crop of issues to arise. 

“So 2020 was the year that I finally started taking care of myself again. I can’t be a good mother, wife, sister, daughter, friend or employee if I’m silently suffering, and placing my needs and health at the bottom of the totem pole. It took a pandemic to finally get me to this point. But I’m getting the help, healing and support that I need in order to be the best version of me. I’ve made it my mission to share my story as often as possible to help reduce the shame, guilt and stigma associated with mental illness and with seeking help.”

— Rachel Flinn

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“The other night we went to dinner at Floyd’s. When we walk into places, we tend to catch the eyes of others. It doesn’t bother me. I can imagine they are worried that all these kids will be disruptive.

“When we got seated, I looked around and noticed a woman sitting alone at the table across from us. I immediately thought, ‘Great, we are going to ruin her quiet dinner!’ I gave her a reassuring smile. And luckily, all the kids were their normal, mostly well-behaved selves.

“When the woman got up to leave, we made eye contact and I smiled again. I was so happy that she made it through her dinner without a child having a meltdown.

“A minute later, the hostess brought me this letter, and the waiter walked up with these desserts. I ran outside and caught the woman. We hugged and both cried. She told me how much of a blessing we were to her. It made me realize that just being in the presence of people is such a blessing.

“I’m so proud of my children and the way my husband and I have raised them. They aren’t always perfect, but they sure come freaking close.”

— Stephanie Jones

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“‘We have to let our hearts break.’ I heard Mariann Edgar Budde, Episcopal bishop of Washington, D.C., say this recently. And whoa, I felt that. For me, 2020 started in a state of grief. Just a few months prior, I lost my sweet love, Daniel, to cancer. Then chaos ensued with the virus. Thankfully, my job switched to teleworking, and I went into quarantine to protect myself because I’m immunocompromised due to my weird autoimmune illness. I put my grief on the back burner, trying to adjust to the new normal. But it came creeping back in June when Daniel’s birthday rolled around. It hit hard on the anniversary of his death in late September. I knew I had to face it.

“I started seeing my friends dealing with the virus, getting sick, losing loved ones, losing jobs, and people stressed having to educate their children. As if the pandemic wasn’t enough, we’ve had heavy political and civic unrest, and every relationship has been tested. I realized all of us were dealing with grief and loss. I know when grief hits, I want answers. That big three-letter word, ‘Why?’ But I’m learning that first I need to feel it before I can put meaning to it. These past months, I’ve come to embrace the idea of impermanence. Nothing lasts forever, good or bad. When I think about it that way, it releases me from the need to control everything and have all the answers.

“In the meantime, what to do in survival mode? I’m leaning into my creative side. I’ve written some songs and taken up painting. Did I mention I was a control freak? Learning to paint is teaching me to deal with my perfectionism because I don’t have to ‘stay inside the lines.’ Also, more recently, my sister and I decided to learn sign language. It’s such a fascinating language that depends on human connection with body language and eye contact. And human connection is something we’re all craving right now.

“The word that I keep coming back to is ‘resilience.’ The human spirit and ability to not only survive but thrive in moments like these is so remarkable. I’m constantly inspired by the ingenuity and creativity of others around me. The only thing I’m sure of right now is that we weren’t meant to face hardships alone. We have to keep holding on to one another.

“I’ve also learned that grief is a blessing when I allow myself to sit with it. It shows me what’s important in life and what to let go of. It was an honor to be in Daniel’s light for a while. ‘Live life forward.’ That was his motto. And memories of his love and grace are definitely helping carry me forward.”

— Cynthia Dawn Clevenger

(Note: Cynthia Dawn Clevenger passed away on Jan. 26, 2022.)

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