For months, the striped duvet and shams in the Pottery Barn catalog wowed me and called me. When it comes to decorating, our master bedroom is at the bottom of the barrel. The dining room, living room, powder room, kid’s bathroom and kids’ bedrooms have always taken priority over ours. It’s just the way we’ve operated. So there wasn’t any chance I was getting that Pottery Barn duvet until Chrismas Eve 2008 when I opened a surprise package from my mama. Somehow, she’d gotten whiff that I wanted that duvet. She bought it and packaged it up pretty with my name on top. It seems silly now, but I shed a few tears over that surprise. Because somebody noticed what I loved, somebody cared, somebody bought me something beautiful. Just for me.

Within a couple weeks, I’d ordered shams and pillows. In no time flat, the set was up. Bright and beautiful, comfortable and classy, just the way I envisioned it.

Now all we needed was fresh paint.

We just so happened to be working with an interior decorator on window treatments for our living room, kitchen, entryway, and two kids’ bedrooms, so when he came over for the consultation, we brought him upstairs to look at paint colors for our master bedroom.

I had a plan. I had a vision. I’m telling you now, I knew what I wanted before the interior decorator even stepped in the room. I wanted green, one of the shades of green in the duvet. Either shade, any complementary shade of green would do. That’s all I wanted. GREEN. Just make it green, please.

I told him straight up. “I want green. I was thinking green. Like this shade or this shade.”

He pulled out his big ring, flipped through all the blessed colors of green, and by golly, green just didn’t seem to settle right with him. (To this day, I still wonder if he didn’t have a true paint match, or whether he just downright hated green. The world will never know.)

“How about tan?” asked the interior decorator as he flipped through his color ring in search of the perfect tan to match my beloved duvet.

“I’d really love a dark brown wall,” my husband added. “Maybe on this wall, behind our bed.”

Honestly, I don’t even know how green turned to tan and dark brown, but it did. Before I knew it, this wall was going to be dark brown, this wall was going to be tan, so forth and so forth. Right before my eyes, the whole room had been revised. Tan and dark brown. And oh yes, let’s add a dark red stripe on the top AND on the bottom for good measure. Maybe it sounded like a good idea at the time. Yes, that would pull the color and pull the stripe up from the duvet onto the wall. A pop of color. Yes, indeed. I reasoned with myself, I convinced myself that’s just what we needed.

So up it went. Up went the paint. We hired the interior decorator’s suggested painter to come and do it. Because TAN plus DARK BROWN plus a DARK RED stripe not only on the top, but the bottom, too, was going to be a lot of work and there was no way I was doing this myself.

I liked it at first. It was good.

I had my duvet. I had my shams. I’d even met the interior decorator at the discount fabric store and found the crazy floral fabric for our window treatments (all by myself, mind you…without his help, but with his approval).

But as each day passed, I grew to hate the tan, the dark brown, and especially the red stripes on the top and bottom of our walls.

I never wanted tan.

I never wanted dark brown.

I never wanted dark red. And I never wanted stripes.

I loved the striped duvet.

I loved the striped shams.

But I wanted GREEN on the walls. GREEN.

Every morning since the winter of 2009, I’ve woken up next to my beloved husband, snuggled up in my striped duvet. I look over on my dresser where I keep a family photo and all my Kenya, Haiti & Dominican treasures, and I’m grateful for the life and opportunities God has given me. But then I look up at the Target tan and red walls, I look over to our beautifully framed wedding photo and the big red stripe right above it, and I’m reminded that I LOST. MY. VOICE. I didn’t know how to assert myself in a moment that counted. Sure, paint color WAS and IS a simple thing, a superficial thing. Honestly, paint color doesn’t matter one iota in the scheme of much-more-important life things. But my voice DOES matter. My opinion DOES matter. What I THINK, what I HOPE for, what I WANT, what I DREAM of, and what I LOVE DOES matter. I must not deny that. I must not deny my voice. Even when it comes to superficial things, like green walls.

Not now, but sometime in the next year or two, we’re hoping to buy new furniture and bedding for our master bedroom. As two first borns, it takes us a bazillion years to agree on pretty much anything, so we’re already starting to look and dream and talk a bit about what that new bedroom furniture and bedding might look like.

This week, we received a Pottery Barn catalog in the mail. I’ve been throwing them straight away for months because we’re not in the position to buy furniture, bedding or anything from Pottery Barn right now. But this time, we did take a peek. My husband wants this page…neutrals, grays, dark browns with a light neutral on the walls. I want something more like that page…creams, linens, with more color in the quilt. And I won’t say what color I’d like on the walls until I know what bedding we’d get.

Yes, I reminded my husband that I won’t be promising anything this time.

Because I’ve learned my lesson.

I will not surrender my voice to paint colors. I will not surrender my voice to the colors on a quilt. I will not surrender my voice to the type of wood we have or the type of light fixtures that hang from our wall, or anything of the sort.

Never again will I stare at a wall for 9 years, letting it remind me that I not only surrendered, but LOST my voice for no good reason.

Just in case you wondered where all the passion comes over paint colors…this losing my voice for no good reason? It isn’t a first, you know. This isn’t about green paint. This isn’t about tan or dark brown. This isn’t about red stripes. This isn’t about my beloved duvet. This isn’t about me being married to another first born or us taking a bazillion years to choose things together. This isn’t about our interior decorator. This isn’t a debate about superficial things vs. things that really matter. This isn’t about me being a bratty baby and needing to “suck it up buttercup” because paint color doesn’t matter in light of hurricanes and fires, nuclear bombs and starving children. This is about me OWNING my VOICE, being able to express myself and standing strong and steady in that space. This is about me seeing that I matter, that my thoughts and opinions count for something, that I was created for a reason and that I should feel free to release my voice and gifts into the world just as much as anyone else.

Bet your bottom dollar, I’m saving my beautiful, beloved duvet for a guest room. Maybe this time, I’ll paint the walls green.

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Today’s story is written by my younger sister, Tiffany, who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Tiffany has shared regular stories on my site since February 2015. The purpose of her writing is to raise awareness of what it’s like to live with mental illness, and serves as a gentle reminder for ALL of us to continually press forward towards mental health and wholeness. If you’d like to read the stories I’ve written about Tiffany’s journey and all the stories she’s shared on this site, check out Tiffany’s Story. Without further ado, here’s Tiffany.

Throughout my life, I’ve had a number of issues with focusing and staying on task. They often call that Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). I have that label placed on me and I don’t mind. I’m classified as having the inattentive type. I’ve had people, including my kids, tell me to slow down. I’m always looking at what’s next. That inhibits me from enjoying any given moment. I need to just breathe and enjoy the happy, peaceful times.

My mental illness conditions don’t always allow me to stay focused and on task. In the past, I quit many jobs because I was not focusing or staying on task. When I’m moving from one thought to the next, my anxiety gets extremely high. When I’m communicating with the voices in my head, I have to keep the loud, ever-changing conversations going. The voices confuse me, so I often retreat and isolate myself.

It’s important for me to keep up with my mental health so I can focus and stay on task.

I hope these stories illustrate how self-care is needed when dealing with focus and staying on task in the past, present, and looking forward to the future?!

Relationships have helped me deal with my isolating issues. I have a strong support system that I can be open and honest with. Sometimes we laugh at psycho me and that is alright.

I walked into my psychiatrist’s office the other day with so much to catch him up on. Guess what? I forgot what I was going to talk about with him! He recommended, as he always does, to make a list before my appointments for both my kids and myself. Sometimes I do that, but often I just don’t think of it. My psychiatrist offered me another way to focus on what’s going on. He suggested using mnemonics. That is making a sentence from the first letter of what I want to remember. He explained to me that repetition is the mother of learning. He wrote these strategies down for me, along with the reminder to RELAX to REMEMBER. There are often times that I’m having a conversation, and I completely forget what was being said. I have noticed that everyone does that from time to time, so I’m not alone. I just get confused because my emotions don’t match the conversations that are going on. I guess it’s alright to just say, “I forgot what we were talking about!” Focusing and staying on task is tough sometimes, but there are ways to deal with it!

I rarely get to hang out with my brother since he lives out of town, but I recently got to spend the day with him. My brother works in the mental health field and is pretty good at keeping me on task! He is the kind of guy who likes to enjoy each and every moment. That is the reason I look up to him so much. My mom dropped me and my son off at his place. We chilled for a bit while he was smoking some food for our lunch. After lunch, we went to Legoland at the Mall of America, and we let my son, Xander, go on a ride. My focus and staying on task issues were pretty good most of the time. He had to tell me a couple times, “Just chill, Tiff. You’re always moving so fast.” The next day we celebrated the one-year anniversary of my dad’s lung transplant. Pretty much right when my brother arrived at my sister’s place, I wanted to take pictures. My brother got kind of irritated and said, “Just let the moment to take pictures happen. Don’t force it!” I was focused on getting the pictures taken, and I got my way. I tend to rush life, so being with him forces me to slow down. When I am focused and staying on task, I actually enjoy moments with my brother and my family.

As you may be able to tell by my writing, it is difficult for me to stay on task. My first diagnosis when I was just out of college was ADD/ADHD. The doctor prescribed me Adderall. I was told my personality changed drastically, and I feel that drug was the start of my drug addiction. I’ve heard Adderall has been the start of many peoples’ addictions?! I had a couple huge bottles of the drug because I was not taking it as prescribed. They were stolen from an apartment I had in Minneapolis because I was hanging out with the wrong kind of people. Over the years, I have been put on numerous stimulant and non-stimulant ADD/ADHD medications. My doctors now know NOT to put me on ANY of them. I know how I abused those drugs in the past, and I don’t trust myself with any of the stimulant medications. If I could go back in time, I would have never started taking Adderall or any of the medications for focusing. Staying on task and focusing takes a lot of work, but I’m glad there are other ways to deal with those concerns.

Everyone seems to want to keep their mind sharp and active. I’ve had a few conversations with my friends about that subject. I have been told by doctors that I have brain damage from the numerous times I attempted suicide in the past. There are many times I was near death and in the Intensive Care Unit. To keep my mind active is very important. I keep a calendar for my appointments and what I need to do each day. I also enjoy writing and reading, which is important for my brain. Lately, I have found that I can’t remember much. Ask me what I did yesterday, and I can’t remember all of the time. I have found that I am enjoying each day more and am appreciating the small moments. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have attempted suicide, but I can’t always control what my mind is doing to me. Someday, I’d like to be an advocate for suicide awareness. I have personal experience with the issue and I feel like I could help others. No problem is big enough to end your life. There are ways to cope.

I am always looking for suggestions on how to improve my memory. My friends, family and doctors help me slow down because yes, sometimes I’m moving too fast. I may get lost in conversations, not be able remember, or move too fast, but I am at a happy place in my life. Working on focusing and staying on task helps me to enjoy the small moments more!

Tiffany