I Dream in Color

I DREAM IN COLOR

Dreams, we all have them right. Or at least at one time in our life we did. Some dreams come to pass while others slowly die. When we are young our innocent minds and hearts are full of the possibilities that may lie ahead. Some dreams are our own while others were instilled by parents or loved ones.

When I was younger, I thrived in school. I would often come home pretending to be a teacher with my mini-type writer and all my accessories. It was innate. I was always surrounded by children, called upon to babysit other kids in the neighborhood. It was just a natural fit, like your favorite shoes or worn pair of jeans. It was my love for school that provided a buffer for a more unstable home life. We weren’t the Walton’s, not even close. I was raised with two older brothers who were quite rough around the edges. They toughened me up and taught me to be strong. My parents married young. And by young, I mean 16 and 17 years of age. By the time my mom gave birth to me at age 20, they had 3 children. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like to be their age and to be responsible for a family of 5. It wasn’t easy. My dad was a skilled carpenter, while mom worked odd jobs. I usually was called upon to help her at work, which I loved. Whether it was putting away VHS tapes or delivering prescriptions to a local pharmacy, I was her sidekick. I always relied on her and well we basically grew up together.

I’m not going to paint you a pretty picture because it truly wasn’t. My dad resorted to heavy drinking after work. We usually got the brunt end of his anger. Anger doesn’t even surmise his outburst. They were more like fits of rage that would pop up out of nowhere. He could literally go from laughing to flying off the handle in a matter of seconds. Have you ever tip-toed? Walk ever so gently, to not make a sound or cause any disturbances? That was me. I was like a ninja. I figured if I behave good and don’t him any reason to be angry with me, then I won’t be on the receiving end of his harsh punishments. Bob and weave. I remember sitting on the couch as his truck would pull up in the driveway and rather than get excited to see him, my stomach would go into knots. Would it be a good day or a bad one? We never knew as it was unpredictable, and his moods ruled our home. Entirely.

I can still remember the day that my Dad told us that he had something to share with us. I was in Middle School at the time, battling hormones and my new body. He quietly said, “Your mom and I are getting a divorce. I will be moving out.” While I know that this should have been a sad time, I was relieved. It felt like a 100-pound weight was removed from my shoulders and I now had space to breath. But I was still a teen-ager, who was now being raised by a single mom of 3. We didn’t see much of my father after he moved. We would visit his new home, with his new wife and children. We were basically left to my mom’s care who now had to provide for a family of 4. God bless her strong little heart. She rose to the challenge, overcoming anxiety like no other. She worked full time at the casino and provided a substantial income for us to keep our home. The downside was, well she worked nights. So, what do teenagers do when left unattended? Get into trouble. All kinds. It was at this point where my brother Rick was introduced to alcohol. He began drinking. He would drink before school, after school and on the weekends. My oldest brother set the tone for that as he was a Senior in high school and frequently hosted Senior Class parties at the expense of my mother’s hard work. Where was I? Smack dab in the middle. I didn’t care for the loud, obnoxious parties, but I got into trouble of my own. Boys, boys, boys. I turned to them for attention, security validation, etc. Even though I was relieved that my Dad left, I was broken. We all have a story right. Thank God it’s not where we start in life but it’s where we end. Thankfully I still excelled in school, and I had a hunger to learn. Sports allowed me to exert pent up anger and creativity allowed me to express my feelings. I had a lot going on inside.

Fast forward to after my Senior Year of High School. I didn’t have a plan for education. It was something I thought was a good idea but just wasn’t sure about which direction I wanted to go in. I enjoyed having cash. I worked. Waitressed for many years and brought in a decent income for someone my age. Enough to help my mom with bills and ease the burden of having to provide for all of us. We were a unit. Meanwhile, my brothers got into a whole different lifestyle. They both followed my father’s footsteps and pursued carpentry, as well as addictive personalities. They struggled. It got to the point where it wasn’t fun anymore but a necessity. The nature of addiction, which completely spiraled out of control. We were now faced with the same unpredictable behaviors that we experienced with my dad. You never knew what condition they might come home in, or if they would come home at all.

Meanwhile we had to make a move, a move that would forever alter my path. It was at this time where I endured my first major bout of depression. I was not self-medicating, and I went into a deep hole. I could count on one hand how many words I spoke on one hand. My mom would leave for work, and I would be in the same spot when she returned. Completely catatonic. It was at this point where she offered me the last half of her counseling appointment. I solemnly agreed. My healing began. Session after session, layer after layer, we addressed the many wounds that I had from childhood. What I heard over and over was “Nichole you are so fortunate to do this now while you are young. You have your whole life ahead of you”. Remember when I said I enjoyed school? I am a sponge, and I will pick up whatever you give me. I bought into the idea and made this my mission to find a way out of the darkness. I was going to pursue healing and show my brothers a different path. One step at a time, one session at a time, I did it. I was overcoming it. I began to dream again! My relationship with God was also restored and he became a huge part of my growth.

What I also learned during this time was my brain chemistry was off. During depression I lost function of my body, began losing weight, couldn’t sleep. I once went 3 days without sleep. I surely thought I was going to lose my mind. I pursued medical help and treatment and continued my journey. At the time I didn’t know that the medication would be part of my everyday life, but it helped and treated an underlying issue. Clinical depression. We are not talking about feeling sad and blue. It’s the kind that is completely out of your control. The invisible disease that so many are ashamed of or embarrassed because they can’t handle their own mind. What is the alternative you ask? Self- medication and a way of escaping the mental pain that hides so well behind a smile, jokes and comedic personalities.

As I continued my journey with God, counsel, and medical treatment, I began to feel less content with serving people food. My desire to work with children came to life again. I decided to apply at a preschool to test the waters. I fell in love. During my time there I grew and matured as a young woman but also as an educator. I became hungry once more and went back to college. Still unsure of what field I wanted to pursue I went with liberal studies, to social work, then back to education. I didn’t stop! Call me a late bloomer but around the age of 26 I realized I can truly be whatever I want to be. Preschool pulled on my heart strings, but I also had other passions. I loved the idea of becoming an Art Therapist to incorporate my healing process into the arts to help other children. I got completely discouraged because there were not any local colleges that had the program. So, I continued on into Early Childhood Education and earned a Masters Degree.

While I was thriving, married and now a homeowner, my two brothers were not coping so well. Rob was introduced to heroin at the tender age of 20 which laid out a painful path of relapse, recovery, repeating the harsh cycle repeatedly. Rick was also still struggling with an array of drugs and alcohol. Everything from Percocet to weed, escalating to oxycodone to heroin. What I can tell you is that watching loved one’s struggle with addiction, is literally the worst pain you can imagine. It is absolutely hell on earth. You want nothing more for your siblings than to have a successful life, free from pain and fueling with purpose. Addiction robs them from every dream. It was hard! None the less I continued hoping they would eventually follow my footsteps. I yearned for it. It gave me purpose to fight for them and the war on drugs and mental health. It is incredibly difficult to celebrate your victories when you have 2 of the most precious people struggling to maintain work, living on their own etc. I lived in fear of a dreaded phone call that something bad would happen. It usually did Rob had overdosed in his early 20’s, Rick legit ran into a gas pump, found himself in his car in the middle of a field. They would share these stories with us. It would scare the living daylights out of me. While living with them, we would sit with Rob for days while he would detox. Take his keys and wallet. Rick had to be picked up once because he took too many mushrooms and had a bad trip on acid. I can’t make this stuff up even I wanted too. They were my young adult years. While others were out at social gatherings, I was fighting for my faith on their behalf.

Rick struggled with depression as well. He was offered the same choices I had. He would dismiss his depressive episodes and chalk it up to a bad day. He tried with self-help tapes, tried a round of medication, tried some therapy. Then surrendered and succumb to. Alife of self-medication. It worked for him until it couldn’t anymore. He lost his license for 2 years and couldn’t drive. Then had an accident at work, which led to him needing seizure medication. He was in a bind. He couldn’t get his license back until he got clearance from the doctor. None of which he sought after. He spiraled down a dark hole. On April 12, 2012, I got the phone call that forever rocked my world. My brother, my childhood best friend was believed to be dead at his apartment. My mom called me frantically as she was driving over to the house to confirm. She offered to pick me up, I declined because I was afraid that if he was not alive that image would be forever etched in my mind. It was confirmed. What came next was also something I asked my mom. Was it intentional? It absolutely was. He hand wrote a note to the family. My world collapsed. My heart was completely broken. Everything I was trying to do to help reach him, all failed. I felt like a failure. I can write a novel about the pain that suicide leaves behind, but I will save that for another time. During this time, I was completing a master’s degree and was into my second year of teaching. I had to keep moving. What is true about grief is the world does not stop even when a loved one dies. You want it too, but it just doesn’t. Broken, I continued. Old desires began to rise to the surface, and I began to dig deeper into art. I began taking classes in ceramics, painting, etc. It helped me to cope. It gave me an outlet of expression and more importantly it gave me joy. The year following Rick’s death, I decided to host an art camp for kids at my house. I transformed the garage into an art studio, and it came to pass. It was a huge success. My Dad helped me come up with a name, helped me set up the space. Our time together was blessed. Even though we were both grieving, we set aside our indifferences and restored our relationship. Prior to this I had to distance myself from my dad to heal. His behavior didn’t change, and I wasn’t willing to be on the receiving end of being hurt. After losing Rick, I realized my own immortality and the fragility of life. I was willing to let it all go for the sake of loving my Dad not as a father but as a child of God who lost a son. He was beyond broken. It was surely a special time in my life where it seemed God had wiped out every negative moment, I ever had with him, and he restored it to perfection.

Old habits die hard right. My dad still had a problem with alcohol. Long story short, he was out drinking. Consumed way too many drinks and ended up having an altercation at a bar. This was a defining moment for him as he spent the night in jail. He was now facing some serious consequences. I’m sure he wasn’t thinking clearly. The grief from losing a child was still raw. Self-medication at its finest. If you don’t know how to cope when life is good, chances are you will resort to the same methods when life throws you lemons. He couldn’t face his consequences and ultimately ended his life on June 16, 2014. This was beyond difficult. Second suicide in the family only this time it’s a parent. A parent who abandoned you once as a child and now has decided to do it again. The pain from this? Unremarkable. You can’t even imagine. I turned to God to restore me back to health. I trusted what his word said about me and not the actions of my father leaving a penetrating wound. My identify was found in Christ. It never changes. I am who he says I am.  A princess warrior of the highest God. I kept my faith in him, drew so close to him. I also continued with art. I did a few local murals during that time and God kept opening doors for me to continue pursuing my passion. Again, it brought me joy.

Where was Rob in the midst of all this you ask? Struggling. Only thing is he had an addiction suffocating him. He now had to deal with the hurt of losing his Dad, his hero and his brother too. He fought a good fight. He would fall and get back up. Just like Rocky. I would call him the comeback kid. His road was difficult because he couldn’t handle life at its own terms, not to mention 2 tragic deaths that would rock anyone’s world. I kept him under close eye, and we became extremely close. When he fell, I fell with him. When he rose, I rose with him. I believed in his God given talent and potential. He was smart, funny charming and a leader. Here we are just the 2 of us left trying to understand what the hell happened and how do we get through this? How do we comprehend it? We supported each other as best we could. Spent holidays together, fishing trips, etc. It was tough. Life would never be the same. During this time, I picked up Olympic weightlifting aka CrossFit. I loved it and again It helped ease the anger and frustration. It was a healthy coping skill and natural mood booster.

Rob bobbed and weaved. The months following our Dad’s death were hard. He got himself into a pickle and got a DUI for drinking and driving. This was the first to come. It was kind of all downhill from here. His moments of sobriety came few and far between. He resorted to alcohol to medicate, and it wasn’t nearly as deadly as heroin. Until the moments would come, and he would pick it up again. Ultimately leading into more trouble. He overdosed behind the wheel of his truck and faced ever more severe consequences. 2 years loss of license, feeling like a failure. It got messy. No one really knows the terror of having a sibling on drugs. They don’t wake up wanting to be an addict either. He wanted to overcome it so bad and literally gave it everything he had. After fighting this battle for almost 20 years, you get tired. He got tired.

I was also growing weary. I was now dealing with chronic pain due to a pinched nerve in my neck. If I learned anything at all during that time, it was that you will do anything to escape the pain. I began to understand or at least catch a glimpse of suicide and what it might be like for someone to end their life. You don’t want to die; you want the pain to stop. And me? I wanted the chronic pain to stop. I tried everything from chiropractic care, injections, physical therapy, traction devices, massages, anything to ease the pain. My life became managing pain until I just couldn’t do it anymore. I took a temporary leave from work until I could seriously address where the root of pain was coming from. I refused pain meds because I saw what they did. I ran out of options for injections because they were maxed out. I kept searching until I found. A doctor who would help me to substantiate the pain and not look at me like I was crazy. Finally, I had a test that positively found nerve damage and was considered eligible for surgery. I was on a path to recover. Physically, mentally and emotionally. Like I said previously life doesn’t stop when you grieve. I took advantage of the time off and completed the credits I would need to obtain an Art Teaching certificate. While anticipating my surgery date, I worked tediously to complete online classes. I did it!!!!

Coming round the mountain, spine surgery was set, and I would receive an artificial disc replacement. This was my first major surgery ever! Everything went great. Recovery was slow but I progressed. Healing was on the way. While I was recovering, going to physical therapy, Rob was moving into his own place, and was so proud of his accomplishments. It seemed like we were good. He would have his moments where he would slip up, only now they were getting closer and closer together. He overdosed 6 or 7 times in one year. He kept waking up in ambulances and hospital beds, asking God why he is still here. So here we are I’m finishing up physical therapy, Rob is not doing well. I decided it was a good idea to lower my dose of medication because I felt so great. Bad idea! Very bad. Fast forward to June. It was father’s day, Dad’s birthday and the anniversary in which he died. All in one weekend. I began to fall into a pit. I was just trying to stay afloat and sought medical help. Once gain to be told to take a higher dose of medicine. That weekend was beyond hard. My ways of escape were stripped. I couldn’t exercise because of surgery, I was out of work, etc. etc.

June 16, 2019. My husband and I went to the park and released a balloon in remembrance of my father. I was emotionally spent. We came home to sit for a bit. Then there was a knock at the door. It was the police. They proceeded to tell me Rob overdosed at the wheel and was at the hospital. This would be his third offense, a 10-year loss of license. I immediately called my mom because this was just beyond me at the time. Rob was picked up and later taken home. We received a call that he was missing, he shut his phone off and was nowhere to be found. Where does your mind go after gone through so much? You got it. He is dead. Sure, as I’m sitting here, I felt it, I knew it. I was just waiting for the call that came 3 days later. He took his life as well. I can’t even believe I’m still here as I sit and type. It’s kind of surreal.

The moments after his death were completely hard. I couldn’t wrap my head around. I felt like an alien. What must people think of my family? What must they think about me? I felt cursed. I knew better on the inside. I didn’t turn to people for my comfort, I turned to God. My counselor, my maker, my comforter. He walked me through it and continues to do so.  The only hope that I have is that I will be reunited with them. They all believed in Jesus. I have this hope as an anchor for my soul. It keeps me grounded. Life continued and it was tough during the early days, time made it a bit easier to cope and I was released to resume physical activity. Which is where I found yoga. A safe way for me to exercise and relieve stress. I fell in love.

Now I’m approaching the Big 4-0! My Aunt, who was my guardian angel, prompted me to get a mammogram, as breast cancer ran in our family. Another blessing shall we say. I did it and said thank god that’s over with. Until they called me in for further testing. I needed to get a biopsy of a suspicious cluster. My aunt assured me it was nothing. Probably just calcifications, so I told the nurse don’t contact me with the results for 2 weeks because I will be in Florida. They didn’t. I returned home and went back to work. I retrieved my cell phone at the end of the day with a voicemail. The radiologist instructed me to come in to discuss my results. Fear ran all through my body, my best friend Heather volunteered to go with me. We drove over together to wait in the dreadful waiting area. Entered the office as they sat in silence with the most intense facial expressions. “Well, you have cancer. But it is the good one to have because it is very treatable. Stage 0 DCIS”. I didn’t know what any of this meant. Nor what was to follow. Remember this is only a few months after the loss of my brother. I didn’t want to have to put on another brave face. I was tired.

I went to a host of different appointments, ultimately deciding to go for a double mastectomy with reconstruction. I did not want to receive radiation, or hormone therapy or chemotherapy. This was my decision. It was a sound one. I sit here 2 surgeries later, cancer free, with 2 new friends. It was a grueling process, but it is behind me and it’s time to turn the page to a more colorful chapter.

March 2021. My guardian angel, Aunt Di was diagnosed with AML. Acute Myeloid Leukemia. She was a fierce one. She went from working to having to undergo intense chemotherapy. The process was to kill everything, then rebuild. It was completely shocking to say the least, as she was only 50 years old. She remained in the hospital and had many ups and downs. Fast forward to May 2021. COVID struck my family and both of my grandparents, and my aunt were all hospitalized. Hearing the news, I booked a flight and got there as fast as I could to help in any way that I could. My grandfather lost his battle. Then following my grand mom. It was devastating. I was able to be with my nan before she passed, which I am eternally grateful for. I returned home back to New Jersey. Trying to process all of this. A few days after being home, I received another phone call. My Aunt’s condition had worsened. She didn’t make it Within 1 and half weeks we lost three very important family members. One family, and a series of tragedies!

I kept dreaming in color. Believing for another opportunity. I had applied for a few different art teaching positions. Finally got a good phone call for an interview! The following day I received another call offering me the position! I accepted it and will be starting in September.

I share all of this, not for you to say how sad or tragic it is. It certainly is. I share to tell you that no matter what you are going through God has equipped you with what you need to get through it. His design for your life was pre-determined. He has deposited many natural abilities within you. These things that bring you joy. Pursue them, chase them, devote your time into them. He has a plan and a purpose for you and will collect all the ashes of your story to create a masterpiece. My dream was buried and rediscovered through pain. His word is true. Isaiah 66:9 “I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born.”  So, no matter what you are going through, ask God what he would have you do? What does he want you to learn? How can this situation be used of for good? And remember its nots where you begin in life but where you finish.

I had every reason to throw in the towel. Walk away from my faith, pitch a fit, you name it. BUT GOD!! He always presents us with choices or free will. You do with it what you like but I chose to follow him. And when the going gets tough, keep on seeking. Even if it means sharing your tears with him. He understands and even collects them in a bottle. I must understand that I have zero control, I am in full surrender. His way is the only way for me to go and I have some tough things to accept. There is much to be said about that simple word. Accept the things you cannot change. You will wear yourself out refusing accept what reality holds. Table it and let go because some things will never get resolved on this side of heaven.

Protect your mental, physical, spiritual and emotional health. You are worth fighting for and you must take care of you. Aren’t you worth it? Surely you are. When you need help, dammit ask for it. Find a support group, seek medical help, get outside of yourself. If your voice is the only voice you are hearing, you will be in trouble. We were designed to depend on one another. Find a local church and get spiritual covering. Join a gym, take a class, devote time to a hobby. Make longevity your focus. You are no good to anyone else if you aren’t taking care of you. This is how I survive. No doubt I am a walking testimony of God’s grace. I can’t imagine where I would be without his guidance, protection, comfort, friendship and so much more.

Most importantly, keep your dream alive! Don’t let anyone take it from you. God placed that there in your heart. Sometimes it’s for a specific season. All seeds have to die before they can grow.