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    I Changed My Mind
    I Changed My Mind
    I Changed My Mind
    Ebook134 pages2 hours

    I Changed My Mind

    By Shero Forever-Kennedy

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    About this ebook

    What happens when the life we planned doesn't match the life we're living? 


    Traumatic events can cause us to feel stuck and unsure about how to move forward. 

    Kesha was a convicted felon struggling to break free from past physical and psychological abuse. I Changed My Mind is a memoir that chr

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShero's Nation, LLC
    Release dateMay 17, 2021
    ISBN9781087958668
    I Changed My Mind

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      Book preview

      I Changed My Mind - Shero Forever-Kennedy

      cover.jpg

      I Changed My Mind

      Copyright © 2021 by Shero’s Nation, LLC

      Trigger warning: This memoir includes detailed elements of physical abuse. This content is for mature readers. Profanity is used throughout this piece of work. Everything I’ve shared in this memoir is true but may not be entirely factual. For example, I have rearranged the timing of some events, re-created conversations to the best of my recollection, and changed identifying characteristics and details such as names, physical attributes, and places of residence. This was done to maintain anonymity of some involved while also keeping the essence of truth and dialogue accurate.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

      Edited by Robyn Latice

      Cover design by Jana Rade

      Printed in the United States of America

      ISBN 9781087958651

      Printed in USA by Ingram Sparks

      Dedication

      This book is dedicated to Lanices Barnes. Because of you, I took a leap. Because of your love, I know the extent of true friendship. You were my light in a dark place when I needed you the most. I pray that I can grow to be as great of a friend to you, as you have been to me. You will always be my best friend, my sister.

      Thank you for everything.

      I love you

      Acknowledgments

      I would like to thank everyone who made this book possible. I thank God for the challenges put before me that inspired me to write this book. Because of Him, I know that my failures had purpose.

      To my best friend Lanices, my brother Randy, and my mentor Dorin, I say thank you for believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. Your encouragement is immeasurable.

      To my Fit Chics, you are living, breathing reminders of my purpose in action. Thank you for allowing me to grow through each and every one of you. I love you to life. 

      Randal Deon Kennedy, you epitomize the definition of what a great man is. You are humble, loving, and honest. My life is sweeter because of you. I love you Honey!

      Preface

      Life on the Treadmill

      Imagine...you’re running up an incline on the treadmill, pushing yourself as hard as you can. For every minute on the belt, you jump off to the sides and recover for thirty seconds. Then, you’re right back at it! You repeat this cycle round after round, and before you know it, your shirt is drenched in sweat. You fight hard to catch your breath. The tightness in your chest only reminds you just how out of shape you really are. You want to finish, but the idea of quitting begins to flirt with you so strong that you’re tempted to give in. Let’s face it, this workout sucks.

      I’ve come to experience life’s unpredictable journey to be much like that workout on the treadmill. You’re running uphill with heavy legs, struggling to push through, and waiting for the moment when the exercise is finally over. The struggle! What I’ve come to learn as a fitness coach is we are all motivated by something that keeps us pushing through. Some of us want to look better. Some of us want to feel better. Some of us want to love what we see when we stand in front of the mirror naked. Whatever the reason, there’s always something that brought us there. That is why, even though we don’t always feel like it, we push. And I don’t care what anybody says, a person never truly understands just how long one minute is until it’s time to sprint it! Ask any of my clients. 

      After years of witnessing not only the physical but the emotional ups and downs of many of my clients, I started to think more about the thing that motivates us all. What exactly is that thing…? What motivates us to get on that treadmill in the first place? How do we keep going when sometimes all we want to do is give up? What keeps us from throwing in the towel when there’s resistance? 

      Then, I got to thinking about my own life. This road for me has not been easy. If I had known my experiences would’ve felt much like running intervals uphill on a treadmill over and over with ten-pound ankle weights and a weighted vest, I would have jumped off the belt a long time ago. This journey, life, is one hell of a workout. No one is standing on the sidelines waiting to coach us through when it gets tough…or when we feel emotionally defeated...or when waking up to face the day even feels like a task. So alone, we run...uphill on that dreadful machine. I learned that sometimes that thing is not the spark of motivation, but merely survival. 

      Naturally, we are supposed to warm up and stretch before we exercise. Never stretch cold; warm up your muscles first, they say. Nevertheless, you don’t always get the chance to warm up. Sometimes in life, you are put on that treadmill to run uphill at a speed you are not ready for, so you go through the process the best way you know how. You just start running! Sometimes your heart rate increases so fast you don’t know what hit you and you’re in a workout from hell. Your body hurts. Cramps pierce your side every time you take a step. Your knees ache and the sweat begins to make your eyes burn. You want to quit, but instead, you jump off the belt and rest for a few seconds longer. Soon, you get a second wind and push yourself more. You push, and you push, and you push. Sometimes you fall off and have to get back on, but you’re determined to finish. If you’ve got any grit left inside of you, you give it your absolute all and you PURGE! Yep, you run until you vomit. 

      Well, let me tell you, I took it there. I ran on that treadmill the best way I knew how with no opportunity to warm up. My first uphill run was an abusive relationship. I jumped off the belt a few times and wanted to quit but quitting just wasn’t in me. I had to keep going. I ran with bruises, a broken heart, and low self-esteem. Along the way, I fell off and unbeknownst to me, suffered a spiritual breakage. I continued to run uphill with that spiritual injury for over twelve years.

      I Was Afraid 

      I was afraid to share my story out of fear for how it might be received. Maybe I feared it wouldn’t be received at all. But God...kept tugging at me. He reminded me of my purpose, to use my words and experiences to heal, inspire, and motivate others. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, Do one thing every day that scares you. Just remember, my one thing on the day this book reaches you in whatever form, was that I took a chance and allowed God to use me to inspire you to think about your struggles differently. 

      I wrote this book to help the person struggling to stay on the treadmill. For the person standing on the edge, holding on tight, drenched in sweat, debating whether or not to finish. I wrote it for the person who has entertained the idea of suicide more times than he or she can count and is too scared to ask for help. I wrote it as a symbol of hope to show an example of how to turn your challenges into beautiful victories. 

      Chapter One

      Spit in My Face

      I scurried behind her as she swiftly made her way towards the bedroom. This was how she ended unwanted conversations. She was dressed in her floral house robe that reached well past her ankles. Her hair, still in pink rollers. But you said I could date when I turned 16. Helloooo, I’m 17 now, ROSA! I sassed. I knew better than to call her by her first name. I wanted to retract my words as quickly as they spewed out. It was too late. SMACK!!! Her hand went right across my mahogany face. The space between her brows bunched as her expression hardened. I stood still like a four-year-old shaken by a loud noise. She pointed her finger between my eyes as she often did when I made her angry. We’re not having this conversation anymore. Now get the hell out of my face with this boyfriend sh*t! Mama’s voice deepened. I stood in place rubbing the sting out of my cheek while she continued into the bedroom and slammed the door. That wooden door with all of its dents and scratches, separated our two worlds. Hers was secluded, yet comfortably accommodating with its queen-sized bed and small tube television that sat on the nightstand along with her puzzle books and Harlequin romance novels. Mine happened to be more exploratory as I took full advantage of her isolation and flirted with the boundaries of things she didn’t allow: dressing in borrowed clothes she’d never buy for me, wearing makeup, and sneaking out of the house after she left to work the night shift at the nursing home. It was on the other side of that door that I lost many things...My innocence. My focus. My way. 

      My most vivid memories begin in middle school. I don’t have a strong recollection of my elementary school days and the few memories I do have of that time are not good, and very specific. I will get to that later. I don’t have many childhood photos and have only seen one photo of myself prior to age six. My mother was as detached and hands off as they come. She wasn’t the I love you, kiss you on the cheek before school and tell you to have a good day type of mom. She believed kids were meant to be seen and not heard. She was the Don’t try me because I WILL whoop your ass if I get a call from your teacher today type of mom. She never asked to see my report card, never attended a parent-teacher conference, and it didn’t matter if my report card came laced with As and Bs or Ds and Fs. It was all the same to her as long as no one came knocking at her door on account of me. The same rules applied for my younger brother as well. We were one year apart in age, yet worlds apart in life. While I was

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