Movie Recommendation: Sins of My Husband (2025)

 

#DebraAndValerieMovieRecommendation

Sins of My Husband (2025)

Lifetime has long been known for its emotionally charged thrillers that explore the hidden facets of human relationships, often placing ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. Sins of My Husband (2025) is a striking addition to this lineup, offering audiences a suspenseful, psychologically complex story that is as thought-provoking as it is gripping. From the first scene, the film immerses viewers in a narrative of trust, betrayal, and the unsettling discovery that the people we love most may harbor secrets beyond comprehension.

The story centers on Katherine Dandridge, portrayed with nuance and emotional depth by Hayley Sales. Katherine appears to lead a normal, fulfilling life with her husband, Tony, until a shocking revelation exposes him as a serial killer. Tony’s crimes are heinous, and his eventual death at the hands of the police leaves Katherine not only in a state of grief and disbelief but also facing scrutiny and judgment from the community. The film explores the aftermath of this revelation with remarkable psychological insight, showing how Katherine struggles to reconcile the man she thought she knew with the horrific reality of his actions.

What makes Sins of My Husband particularly compelling is the way it examines the social consequences for those unknowingly connected to perpetrators of crime. Katherine’s claim of ignorance is met with widespread skepticism. Friends, neighbors, and even the media question her integrity, casting her into a maelstrom of suspicion and social ostracization. The film does an excellent job of portraying how public judgment can compound personal trauma, emphasizing the isolation and emotional turmoil that survivors of such circumstances often endure. This aspect of the story resonates deeply, offering a realistic depiction of the societal fallout that accompanies shocking crimes and the collateral damage it inflicts on innocent parties.

The narrative gains further complexity through the introduction of Doreen, played with quiet intensity by Alaina Huffman. Doreen is the mother of Tony’s only surviving victim, and her unexpected alliance with Katherine forms the emotional core of the film. Their relationship begins with tension and mistrust, given the unimaginable link between them, but gradually evolves into a nuanced partnership that explores themes of empathy, understanding, and the shared human experience of grief and loss. The evolving dynamic between Katherine and Doreen is one of the film’s most powerful elements, highlighting how individuals can forge meaningful connections even in the most difficult and morally ambiguous situations.

Director Soran Mardookhi and writer Rolfe Kanefsky deserve particular recognition for crafting a film that maintains suspense while delivering profound emotional resonance. The pacing of the movie is deliberate yet engaging, allowing tension to build naturally as the narrative unfolds. Each plot twist is carefully executed, ensuring that viewers remain invested in the story without feeling manipulated. Kanefsky’s writing provides a careful balance between psychological depth and thriller elements, allowing the audience to connect with the characters on a personal level while remaining on edge about what might happen next. The suspense is heightened by a meticulous attention to detail in both visual storytelling and character development.

The performances in Sins of My Husband are consistently strong, with Hayley Sales delivering a particularly compelling portrayal of Katherine. Sales captures the multifaceted nature of her character—the confusion, fear, guilt, and resilience—with subtlety and authenticity. Katherine’s journey is emotionally demanding, and Sales’ performance ensures that the audience can empathize with her experience without reducing the narrative to mere sensationalism. Alaina Huffman’s performance as Doreen complements Sales perfectly, providing a grounded counterpoint that enhances the film’s exploration of human emotion. The chemistry between the two actresses is believable and emotionally resonant, making the development of their alliance both compelling and affecting.

Another strength of the film lies in its exploration of trust and betrayal. Sins of My Husband forces viewers to consider how well we truly know the people closest to us and what it means when the foundation of our relationships is shattered. The film does not offer easy answers or simplistic moral judgments; instead, it delves into the ambiguity of human behavior, portraying the psychological turmoil that emerges when a loved one’s hidden darkness comes to light. This thematic depth elevates the film above a standard crime thriller, offering a narrative that encourages reflection on the fragility of trust and the ways in which people cope with profound emotional upheaval.

In addition to character development and thematic complexity, the film’s technical aspects contribute to its effectiveness as a thriller. The cinematography captures both the intimacy and isolation of Katherine’s experience, using framing and lighting to underscore her emotional state. Suspenseful sequences are enhanced by precise editing and a tense score that accentuates key moments without overwhelming the narrative. These elements combine to create a viewing experience that is immersive and emotionally compelling, drawing audiences into the world of the characters and keeping them engaged until the final scene.

Sins of My Husband also addresses the theme of community perception and media influence in the aftermath of tragedy. The film portrays how public opinion can shape the narrative surrounding individuals who are indirectly involved in criminal acts. Katherine’s struggles with judgment and ostracization highlight a broader social commentary on how society often seeks to assign blame and moral accountability, even when someone is innocent of the acts themselves. This perspective adds a layer of realism and relevance to the story, making it resonate with contemporary audiences who are increasingly aware of the impact of public scrutiny and social media on personal lives.

Overall, Sins of My Husband is a thought-provoking and emotionally resonant film that blends suspense with psychological insight. Its strengths lie in strong performances, a compelling narrative, and thoughtful exploration of complex themes, including trust, betrayal, grief, and social judgment. The evolving relationship between Katherine and Doreen provides a powerful emotional anchor, demonstrating the capacity for empathy and connection even in the face of unimaginable circumstances. The combination of a tightly written script, skillful direction, and engaging performances ensures that the film is both entertaining and meaningful, offering viewers a narrative that lingers long after the credits roll.

For anyone who appreciates psychological thrillers that go beyond surface-level suspense, Sins of My Husband is a highly recommended watch. It is a film that not only entertains but also encourages reflection on the human condition, exploring how we respond to hidden truths and the consequences of betrayal. Lifetime has succeeded in delivering a movie that is both gripping and emotionally resonant, making it a standout addition to their 2025 lineup. Whether you are drawn to character-driven stories, intricate psychological narratives, or suspenseful thrillers, Sins of My Husband offers a satisfying and thought-provoking cinematic experience.

In conclusion, Sins of My Husband is a compelling thriller that excels in both storytelling and character exploration. Hayley Sales and Alaina Huffman deliver exceptional performances, bringing authenticity and depth to their characters’ emotional journeys. The film’s exploration of trust, betrayal, social judgment, and human resilience elevates it beyond a typical thriller, offering a narrative that is as psychologically engaging as it is suspenseful. Director Soran Mardookhi and writer Rolfe Kanefsky have crafted a story that captivates audiences while provoking reflection on complex moral and emotional themes. This film is not only a testament to Lifetime’s ability to produce high-quality thrillers but also a deeply moving exploration of the consequences of hidden truths and the enduring power of human connection. For viewers seeking a thriller that combines suspense with emotional depth, Sins of My Husband is an outstanding choice.

What Positive Affirmations Can You Incorporate Into Your Daily Routine?

There was a time when I woke up each morning with my mind already racing ahead of me—thinking of all the things I had to do, the expectations waiting to be met, and the countless ways the day could go wrong. My mornings used to begin in chaos, and even before stepping out of bed, I was already tired. Somewhere along the way, I realised that my biggest obstacle wasn’t the world around me, but the voice inside my head. That’s when I discovered the quiet power of positive affirmations—simple, intentional words that can change not just the tone of a morning, but the direction of an entire life.

I didn’t start this practice expecting miracles. I began small—one sentence whispered over coffee, one line written in my journal before breakfast and my exercise and breakfast. Those early hours became sacred: the world still half-asleep, the air fresh with new beginnings. It was there that I found the perfect moment to talk to myself—not in frustration or criticism, but in kindness. Over time, these small affirmations became the anchor that steadied me through everything from grief to growth, from building dreams to caring for family.

So, what affirmations can we weave into our daily routines to nurture strength, peace, and purpose? Here are the ones that have truly transformed me.

“I am grateful for the gift of today.”

Gratitude is the heartbeat of every good day. I used to overlook the small blessings—the comfort of my morning coffee, my mum’s smile as we walked together, the sound of birds greeting the sunrise. When I began starting each morning with this affirmation, it shifted my attention from what was missing to what was already abundant. No matter how challenging life became—whether it was the loss of a loved one, an unexpected setback, or a demanding day at work—reminding myself that today itself is a gift softened my heart and opened my eyes to joy in ordinary moments.

“I am enough, just as I am.”

This one took years to truly believe. It’s so easy to measure ourselves against others—their achievements, their looks, their timelines. But life has shown me again and again that worth isn’t something to be earned; it’s something to be recognised. Whether I was launching a business, writing a book, or simply being a mum, there were moments I felt inadequate. Yet, whenever I stood before the mirror and said, “I am enough,” it quieted the old doubts. It reminded me that perfection is not the goal—presence is. And on the days I forget, I repeat it until I remember.

“I am strong, and I can handle whatever comes my way.”

Strength doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it’s the quiet endurance of showing up—of getting out of bed even when grief feels heavy, of smiling for your children when your heart is still healing. Losing people I deeply loved taught me that strength isn’t about never falling apart; it’s about choosing to rebuild again and again. This affirmation became my daily promise to myself: that no matter what life brings, I will face it with courage and grace. And somehow, every time I said it, I grew a little braver.

“I attract peace and protect my energy.”

As I’ve grown older, I’ve realised not every battle deserves my attention, and not every noise needs my response. There’s beauty in protecting your peace. This affirmation helps me stay centered, especially in a world that glorifies busyness and chaos. Before meetings, before social media scrolls, even before family conversations, I remind myself: I choose peace. It doesn’t mean I avoid responsibility; it means I approach everything with calm intention. Peace, after all, is a form of success that can’t be measured by numbers or applause.

“I am grateful for my body and what it allows me to do.”

During my juicing journey—almost eight years strong now—I learned that loving your body is more than about how it looks. It’s about honouring what it does for you daily: carrying you through long walks, letting you dance, laugh, hug your loved ones, and live. This affirmation became my quiet thank-you to the body that has seen me through every joy and storm. When I prepare my juice each morning, I say it aloud. It turns a simple habit into a ritual of gratitude.

“I am surrounded by love and support.”

Family is everything to me — my mum, my children, everyone who is a part of the family. Love flows in so many forms, and it keeps me grounded. There are days I feel overwhelmed, and repeating this affirmation reminds me that I am never truly alone. Even when I’ve lost people dear to my heart, it comforts me to know their love still surrounds me in spirit. Affirmations like this one reconnect me to that invisible network of care that carries us through life.

“I release what I cannot control.”

This one might be the hardest of all. I used to hold on tightly—to plans, to outcomes, to people. But control is an illusion that often robs us of peace. Through prayer and reflection, I learned to trust more deeply that what’s meant for me will find me. Now, when things don’t go as planned, I close my eyes and say, “I release what I cannot control.” It’s not giving up—it’s letting go, so I can move forward lighter and freer. It’s also a way of acknowledging faith: that God’s plan, though mysterious, is always for good.

“I am guided and protected.”

As my faith grew stronger, I began incorporating spiritual affirmations that remind me I am never walking alone. Whether I’m starting a busy day or facing an uncertain path, this affirmation centres me in divine trust. I whisper it before stepping out the door, before driving, or even during moments of anxiety. It keeps me grounded in belief that there’s a higher power guiding my steps and watching over my family.

“I choose to be kind, even when it’s hard.”

Kindness is not always easy, especially when people test your patience or misunderstand your intentions. But every time I remind myself of this affirmation, I return to the kind of person I want to be—gracious, compassionate, forgiving. I learned from my mum that kindness is strength wrapped in gentleness. When you lead with kindness, you not only uplift others but also protect your own peace.

“I am creating a life filled with meaning and joy.”

This affirmation captures the essence of everything I strive for. Success, to me, isn’t about status or recognition—it’s about living with purpose, love, and gratitude. Whether I’m writing, building a business, or spending time with family, I want my days to reflect joy and meaning. Saying this aloud each morning helps me stay intentional. It’s a gentle reminder that happiness isn’t something to chase; it’s something to create.

Making Affirmations a Daily Practice

Incorporating affirmations into your routine doesn’t require elaborate rituals. It can be as simple as speaking them while brushing your teeth, writing one on a sticky note for your desk, or repeating them during your morning walk. The key is consistency and belief. Words have energy—they shape how we see ourselves and how we experience the world. Over time, they shift from being statements we say to truths we live by.

Affirmations don’t erase life’s difficulties, but they give us the emotional strength to face them differently. They rewire our inner dialogue from self-criticism to self-compassion. For me, they’ve become quiet prayers—small, powerful declarations that keep my heart aligned with gratitude, faith, and purpose.

Each morning now, before the noise of the world begins, I return to my affirmations. I breathe them in. I let them fill the spaces once occupied by worry and self-doubt. And with each word, I remind myself that I am capable, loved, and enough—just as I am.

Songs That Mirror My Experience with Engelbert Humperdinck

 

When I came across a contest titled “What Is My Favourite Song from Engelbert Humperdinck — and Why?”, I almost laughed. A friend sent me the link as a joke, knowing my complicated and deeply personal history with Engelbert and his family. But I decided to respond anyway — not for recognition, but to share my truth. This is more than a reflection on music; it’s an honest account of admiration, disillusionment, and the lessons I’ve carried from my 22-year journey with Engelbert Humperdinck and his family. What follows isn’t about favourite songs in the traditional sense — but rather, the songs that hold meaning because they mirror parts of my experience: moments of hope, heartbreak, and ultimately, awakening.

I first met Engelbert and his family over two decades ago. What began as a simple fan encounter gradually evolved into helping them in small ways — which, over the years, turned into larger responsibilities. I assisted with setting up and advising on social media during a time when it was still new to many, coordinated various matters, and offered care and guidance to help certain family members with their health and mental well-being. I even played a part in helping Engelbert himself lose thirty pounds in preparation for one of his concerts. When his wife fell ill, I reached out to find a healer for her, and after her passing, I did everything I could to help the family through their grief — from providing items of comfort, to ensuring they had food after the funeral, even writing one of the eulogies that was read. I never sought recognition; I only wanted to help. Not being given credit was fine — but what hurt deeply was the lack of appreciation, and worse, seeing credit for my efforts taken by others, even when I had proof of everything.

It’s from that place — a mix of care, disappointment, and clarity — that these songs by Engelbert gained their meanings for me.

The first is “Les Bicyclettes de Belsize.” Hauntingly beautiful and wistful, it evokes innocence touched by loss. Beneath its dreamy melody lies a quiet disillusionment — the realization that not everything pure is genuine. For me, it reflects the early years of my connection with the family: what began with warmth and trust slowly revealing itself to be built on selective sincerity. The charm and friendliness that once felt real turned out to be conditional — offered only when something was to be gained.

Then there’s “There Goes My Everything.” Its mournful tone captures the grief of losing something deeply valued — not in the romantic sense, but the loss of faith in sincerity. I gave my time, compassion, and energy selflessly, checking in from Singapore to Los Angeles, ensuring they were cared for even when oceans apart. When Engelbert sings, “There goes my reason for living, there goes the one of my dreams,” it resonates differently for me now. It speaks to the pain of realizing that something I invested so much heart into — out of kindness and loyalty — was never truly valued in return.

“Too Beautiful to Last” mirrors that exact truth. What once appeared meaningful and mutual was, in hindsight, a one-sided bond. I believed in the goodness of what we shared — a connection built on trust and care — only to discover that it wasn’t as real as I hoped. The title itself says it all: some things are too beautiful to last because they were never meant to endure beyond illusion.

When I hear “Am I That Easy to Forget?” I’m reminded of the moment I realized I had been cast aside — my efforts, care, and presence forgotten once they no longer served convenience. The song’s question once haunted me, but over time, it became an answer in itself. I learned that I wasn’t easy to forget — they simply chose to. Yet in choosing to walk away, I found strength and clarity. I reclaimed my peace and voice, no longer waiting for acknowledgment that was never coming.

“The Way It Used to Be” captures the bittersweet nostalgia of how things once felt genuine — the laughter, the trust, the shared moments that now feel like echoes of a time I wanted to believe in. I often look back and remember the way it used to be, not with bitterness, but with acceptance. Those moments were real for me, even if they weren’t for them. And learning to let go of that illusion became one of my hardest but most necessary lessons.

Then there’s “Release Me.” This song became more than a melody — it became a personal prayer. Each day, I silently echoed its plea: “Please release me, let me go.” It wasn’t about love or romance; it was about breaking free from emotional manipulation, gaslighting, and the quiet toxicity that had entangled me for years. “Release Me” marked my turning point — the moment I chose to value truth over approval, self-worth over validation, and peace over pretense.

Finally, “The Last Waltz” and “A Man Without Love” complete the picture. On the surface, they sound romantic, but to me, they reveal something far deeper — the loneliness beneath the grandeur. “Every day I wake up, then I start to break up, lonely is a man without love…” Those lyrics echo what I eventually saw behind the polished image — the emptiness that fame cannot fill, the hollowness behind applause, and the quiet sadness that success can’t soothe.

So when asked, “What is your favourite song from Engelbert Humperdinck — and why?” my answer isn’t simple, nor is it sentimental. These songs are not my favourites in the traditional sense; they are mirrors of a personal journey that spanned over two decades — a journey from admiration to awakening. They hold meaning because they trace my path from trust to truth, from being unseen to finally seeing clearly.

In the end, Engelbert’s songs remind me of the very lessons his family inadvertently taught me: that beauty can hide deceit, charm can mask emptiness, and that truth — though painful — is the most liberating melody of all.

Movie Recommendation: Betrayed (2014)

 

#DebraAndValerieMovieRecommendation

Betrayed (2014)

Betrayed (2014) is one of those under-the-radar thrillers that manages to captivate without relying on blockbuster-level budgets or high-octane action sequences. It is a film that thrives on subtlety, building suspense through the careful unraveling of trust, tension, and human vulnerability. While it may initially appear to be a conventional story of deceit and danger, the true power of Betrayed lies in its exploration of personal relationships and the psychological consequences of betrayal, particularly when it occurs within one’s own circle of trust.

At its core, the plot follows a woman who slowly becomes aware that those she relies on most—the people she loves and depends upon—may not be what they seem. The narrative unfolds in a measured, almost deliberate pace, emphasizing the psychological and emotional terrain of deception rather than relying on flashy visuals or action-driven plot points. This focus allows the audience to engage with the story on a more intimate level, experiencing the protagonist’s growing sense of unease and paranoia as the layers of secrecy are gradually revealed.

What immediately stands out about Betrayed is the way it portrays the emotional impact of realizing that someone you love could be hiding life-altering truths from you. This is not a story of grand-scale criminal conspiracies or high-stakes espionage; it is a domestic thriller, grounded in the small, everyday interactions that eventually compound into fear and uncertainty. The tension is built not through explosions or car chases, but through atmosphere, dialogue, and the subtle performances of the cast. There is a claustrophobic quality to the storytelling, as if the walls of trust themselves are closing in on the protagonist, leaving the audience to experience her isolation and suspicion firsthand.

From a character perspective, the film is effective in demonstrating how betrayal can distort perception and erode one’s sense of security. The protagonist’s journey is as much about self-discovery as it is about uncovering secrets. The psychological unraveling she experiences is rendered convincingly, allowing the viewer to empathize with her fear and confusion. While some dialogue and performances occasionally feel uneven, there is a raw emotional sincerity that compensates for these minor flaws. The film does not attempt to sugarcoat the devastation of betrayal; instead, it presents it with a quiet realism that is both unsettling and engaging.

One of the film’s strengths lies in its handling of trust as a thematic element. Trust is depicted not as a given, but as a fragile construct that can be shattered at any moment. The movie compels the audience to question how well we truly know the people around us. Through the protagonist’s experiences, we are confronted with the possibility that deception may lurk even in the most familiar relationships. The film subtly suggests that betrayal is not always dramatic or overt—it can be insidious, hidden beneath ordinary conversations and daily routines, making its impact all the more devastating.

The tension in Betrayed is enhanced by its pacing. The story does not rush to reveal its secrets, instead allowing suspense to build gradually. This slow-burn approach is a hallmark of effective psychological thrillers, and it works well here. The audience is given time to immerse themselves in the protagonist’s world, to notice the subtle discrepancies in behavior and the faint hints of deceit that eventually culminate in shocking realizations. Each twist feels earned rather than contrived, and the gradual escalation of danger ensures that viewers remain engaged from start to finish.

In addition to its psychological depth, the film also touches on themes of manipulation and survival. The characters’ interactions are layered with subtext, and the viewer is prompted to consider the motivations behind deception. Why do people betray those they claim to love? How does secrecy function as both a protective and destructive force? These questions linger throughout the movie, giving it a reflective quality that elevates it beyond a simple thriller. Betrayed is not content to provide mere entertainment; it invites contemplation on the nature of trust, loyalty, and human behavior under pressure.

Another noteworthy aspect of the film is its restraint. Unlike high-budget thrillers that rely heavily on spectacle, Betrayed achieves its impact through subtlety and suggestion. The cinematography and sound design contribute to a sense of unease, reinforcing the protagonist’s emotional state without overwhelming the viewer with unnecessary noise. This minimalist approach suits the story’s intimate scale, allowing the psychological tension to take center stage. The absence of excessive visual or auditory stimulation encourages the audience to focus on character interactions and narrative developments, heightening the suspense and emotional resonance.

While Betrayed does not reinvent the thriller genre, it succeeds in offering a compelling, character-driven story that maintains interest through its focus on emotional and psychological authenticity. It is a film that rewards patience, attentive viewing, and an appreciation for subtle storytelling. For those who enjoy crime stories with a psychological edge, or thrillers that examine human relationships as much as they do criminal plots, Betrayed is an engaging choice. Its twists are satisfying, its tension palpable, and its reflections on trust and betrayal linger long after the credits roll.

The movie’s central message is both simple and profound: sometimes the greatest danger comes not from strangers or external threats, but from those who profess love and loyalty. It is a cautionary tale about the fragility of trust and the devastating consequences when it is broken. By grounding the suspense in relatable, everyday situations, Betrayed makes the concept of betrayal feel immediate and personal. The film reminds viewers that deception is not always grandiose or theatrical—it can be quiet, insidious, and devastating precisely because it comes from someone we hold dear.

In conclusion, Betrayed (2014) is a quietly powerful thriller that balances domestic tension, psychological depth, and narrative suspense. Its low-budget production does not hinder its ability to captivate, because its true strength lies in character development, emotional realism, and thoughtful exploration of trust and betrayal. While it may not boast the spectacle of larger films, it compensates through an intimate focus on human relationships, subtle twists, and a compelling portrayal of psychological tension. For anyone interested in a thriller that is as much about emotional unraveling as it is about plot twists, Betrayed is a highly recommended watch. It is a film that lingers, prompting reflection on the complex and often precarious nature of trust in our personal lives.

Ultimately, Betrayed reminds us that deception can come from the most unexpected places, and that the emotional consequences of betrayal are profound. It is a testament to the power of character-driven storytelling and a quiet exploration of the human psyche. In a cinematic landscape dominated by spectacle, it is refreshing to encounter a film that prioritizes subtlety, tension, and emotional truth, making Betrayed a worthwhile recommendation for any viewer seeking a thoughtful, suspenseful, and introspective thriller.

How Will I Stay on Track Today?

Every morning, before the world fully wakes, I ask myself this question: How will I stay on track today? It sounds simple, but it’s one of the hardest questions to answer honestly. Life has a way of tugging us in all directions — emotions, responsibilities, distractions — until we lose sight of what we meant to focus on in the first place. For me, staying on track isn’t just about being productive; it’s about protecting my peace, honouring my values, and choosing to show up for myself and the people I love.

I start my day early, when the air is still cool and the light feels gentle. My mum and I usually head to the stadium for our morning walk at 6:30 a.m. It’s our quiet ritual — the rhythm of our steps, the smell of coffee drifting from a nearby stall, the soft hum of conversation between us. This routine anchors me. It’s not just exercise; it’s connection, gratitude, and clarity before the day rushes in. I find that when I move my body first thing in the morning, my mind follows suit. I think better, feel lighter, and I’m less likely to let small frustrations derail me later.

After our walk, I spend a few moments in silence — sometimes in prayer, sometimes just sitting with my thoughts. My faith has become the compass I turn to daily. There’s something sacred about whispering a small “thank you” before the day begins. It reminds me that no matter how unpredictable life can be, God’s grace is constant. When I feel scattered or overwhelmed, I often return to this simple truth: Be still and know that I am with you. That line has carried me through grief, uncertainty, and moments when I felt completely lost. It helps me recentre, to see that staying on track isn’t about perfection — it’s about faithfulness.

But staying on track also means being intentional with how I spend my energy. I’ve learned (often the hard way) that my time and attention are my most precious currencies. There was a time when I said yes to everything — every project, every message, every favour — until I had nothing left for myself. Now, I try to live by one of my favourite Marc & Angel reminders: You don’t need to attend every argument or drama you’re invited to. It’s such a liberating thought. I don’t have to respond to every bit of noise around me. I can choose peace. I can choose silence. I can choose to stay on track.

One of the ways I do this is by using small, visible reminders — sticky notes on my desk, on the fridge, or near my mirror. Each note carries a message I need to see that day: “Progress, not perfection.” “You are stronger than you think.” “Breathe.” These little notes aren’t just decorations; they’re anchors. They bring me back to myself when my mind starts to drift into anxiety or self-doubt. I don’t always follow them perfectly — some days, I still get distracted, lose patience, or fall behind — but that’s okay. Staying on track isn’t about never wandering off; it’s about gently returning when you do.

I also stay on track by surrounding myself with people who lift me up rather than drain me. My family, especially my mum and my kids, remind me of what truly matters. My late grandpa, Matt and Pete Moore taught me through their lives that love, loyalty, and kindness matter more than titles or achievements. Whenever I feel tempted to chase validation or overwork myself, I think of them and the kind of peace they embodied. Their memory keeps me grounded. I want to live in a way that would make them proud — to keep building, giving, and growing without losing myself in the process.

There are also the small daily choices that help me stay aligned. Drinking my morning juice — part of a journey I’ve been on for almost eight years now — reminds me of discipline and care for my body. Writing, whether it’s working on my books or jotting down ideas for my next project, helps me process and express what’s in my heart. I’ve learned that when I neglect these creative or healthy outlets, I start to feel unbalanced. But when I honour them, I feel connected — to myself, to my purpose, and to something larger than me.

Of course, some days don’t go as planned. There are moments when grief sneaks in quietly and I ache for their presence. On those days, staying on track looks different. It’s softer, slower. It might mean allowing myself to cry, to pray, or to rest without guilt. It might mean reminding myself that healing isn’t linear and that grace can be found even in stillness. I’ve learned that being kind to myself is also a form of discipline. The world moves fast, but I don’t always have to.

Another big part of staying on track for me is remembering my why. Whether it’s the work I do with my books — from Echoes of Faith to my juicing trilogy — or the projects I build with my brother and family, everything I pour my energy into has to mean something. I’ve reached a point in life where I’m no longer impressed by busyness or titles. I care more about authenticity, impact, and heart. So when I plan my day, I ask: Is this moving me closer to what matters, or just keeping me busy? That question alone helps me refocus my time on what actually matters — my faith, my family, my health, and the people I serve through my work.

Staying on track is, in many ways, a daily act of faith and discipline. It’s saying no to distractions and yes to purpose. It’s choosing to get up even when the world feels heavy. It’s remembering that I’ve overcome before — and I can again. It’s holding onto gratitude even in chaos. And it’s giving myself permission to start over as many times as needed.

So today, I’ll stay on track by keeping things simple. I’ll start my morning with movement and gratitude. I’ll read one of my sticky note reminders and carry it in my heart throughout the day. I’ll focus on what’s in front of me rather than worrying about everything ahead. I’ll pause before reacting, breathe before speaking, and pray before deciding. I’ll make time to laugh with my mum, check in on my kids, and take a few moments just to be. Because at the end of the day, that’s what being “on track” really means — staying present, aligned, and at peace with where I am.

And if I stray? I’ll gently guide myself back — no guilt, no shame, just grace.

Because staying on track isn’t about having the perfect day.

It’s about remembering what matters most, and beginning again — today.

The Story Behind #JasonMemes – From Pain to Power

 

Many of you know my story with Jason, and many may not. For those who’ve been following along, you’ve probably seen my endless stream of #JasonMemes and wondered, “Who is this Jason, and why does he have his own meme series?” Well, if I were to tell you the story from the very beginning, this essay might as well turn into a novel — and I honestly wouldn’t even know where to start. But I certainly know how it ended.

It ended after almost ten years of being blind — not because of love, but because of compassion, pity, and an unshakable belief that I could help someone who didn’t want to be helped. You see, Jason was never my partner. He was a friend — someone I genuinely felt sorry for. I saw a lost soul, a man who was struggling, and I believed I could make a difference. My heart has always been big, and sometimes too soft, especially when I see someone in pain. I thought I could save him, that maybe kindness and patience would turn his life around.

But instead, I got pulled into a cycle of narcissism and gaslighting. Jason knew how to play the victim, how to twist situations, and how to take advantage of anyone’s empathy. And I, like many before me, believed his stories — until I didn’t anymore.

By God’s grace, one day, I found the strength to say enough. It wasn’t dramatic or explosive. It was quiet, steady, and final. I was done being manipulated. I was done being drained. And I was done trying to fix someone who thrived on chaos.

And when I was truly done, I didn’t just walk away. I made sure the truth was known.

I gathered every proof — the lies, the screenshots, the messages, the manipulations — and I sent them to his father. Now, his father wasn’t just anyone; he was once a big-time celebrity, known and respected in his own right. But here’s the thing — I wasn’t in it for who his father was. In fact, I knew his father long before I even knew Jason. My connection to that family wasn’t about fame or influence. It was purely human — I saw someone suffering and thought I could help.

But when the truth came out, karma worked faster than I could have imagined. The very next day, Jason’s father kicked him out. That was the first taste of real consequence Jason ever faced — and it didn’t come from me seeking revenge, but from the truth finally catching up with him.

Sadly, the story doesn’t end there. As time went on, I realized that Jason wasn’t the only problem. His entire family shared the same traits — ungratefulness, entitlement, and arrogance. They were the kind of people who took and took without ever appreciating the hands that helped them. I had seen their behavior before, even from the father, and I realized that Jason was simply a product of that environment.

But they dealt with the wrong person this time.

Everyone before me who had been hurt by that family left quietly and broken — too scared, too defeated, or too exhausted to speak up. Not me. I refused to leave in silence. I spoke up. I told the world what they did, how they operated, and how many lives they had affected. I shared my truth openly, whether people chose to believe me or not. Because I knew one day, the truth would speak for itself.

And it did.

Many of those who had once suffered in silence reached out to me privately. They told me they admired my strength, that they wished they had done the same. Some said I gave them closure simply by saying out loud what they had always wanted to say. They praised my courage for calling them out, for exposing what so many had endured behind closed doors.

At that point, I wasn’t just telling my story — I was becoming a voice for others who couldn’t find theirs yet.

I began sharing posts and reflections on social media — not to attack, but to raise awareness about narcissistic abuse and manipulation. I wanted people to understand that not all monsters come with warning labels. Some come disguised as friends, mentors, or “victims.” And as I healed, I found humor creeping back into my life in the most unexpected way — through memes.

I remember scrolling one night and seeing a meme that perfectly summed up something Jason once said. I laughed out loud and thought, “This is so him.” So, I shared it. Then another one. And another. Soon enough, the #JasonMemes were born.

What started as a lighthearted way to process my experience turned into something bigger. The memes caught on quickly. People who knew the story laughed with me. Others who didn’t still found them relatable because they, too, had their own “Jasons.” My inbox started filling with messages like, “This one reminds me of my ex,” or “Thank you for making me laugh through something so painful.”

At first, the memes were a coping mechanism — my way of releasing the frustration with humor. But eventually, they became a movement. They became a symbol of healing, laughter, and empowerment.

Some people told me to move on, to stop posting about him. But what they didn’t understand was that I had moved on. The #JasonMemes weren’t about holding onto pain — they were about transforming it. They were proof that I could take something that once hurt me deeply and turn it into something that made people laugh.

One day, I decided I’d stop posting. I announced it, thinking it was time to close the chapter. But then the messages came flooding in. People begged me not to stop. They told me that the #JasonMemes made their day, that they found strength and humor in them. That’s when I realized — this wasn’t just my story anymore. It was a collective laugh shared by everyone who’s ever been betrayed, manipulated, or underestimated.

So yes, I kept going. And as of today, I’m celebrating my 1,000th #JasonMemes.

When I look back now, I don’t see the pain. I see growth, strength, and divine justice. I see a woman who stood up against a toxic family that thought they could intimidate and silence anyone. I see someone who refused to stay quiet, even when the world doubted her.

Karma did what it needed to do — and continues to. I don’t need to lift a finger or wish harm. The universe has a way of balancing things out, and I’ve seen it firsthand.

Today, I write this with a healed heart. I’m no longer angry, no longer carrying the weight of what happened. I’ve found peace. I’ve found laughter. And most importantly, I’ve found my purpose in turning pain into power.

So, here’s to 1,000 memes, 1,000 laughs, and one strong reminder: you can’t control what people do to you, but you can control how you rise from it.

The #JasonMemes saga continues — not out of bitterness, but out of brilliance. Because I may have started it from pain, but now, it’s fueled by joy, resilience, and a little bit of well-deserved humor.

Parenting: More Than Getting Up and Going to Work

 

Parenting is often described in terms of routines, schedules, and responsibilities. Wake up, get the kids ready, pack lunches, drop them at school, go to work, come home, feed them, put them to bed—the list goes on. On the surface, it may seem like parenting is a series of tasks, a checklist of things that need to be done. But the truth is, parenting is so much more than that. True parenting is about presence, connection, and nurturing the emotional, mental, and spiritual well-being of your child. It is about being there—not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Being present in parenting requires more than simply showing up. It is not enough to sit at the dinner table with your child while your mind is elsewhere, thinking about work, bills, or the errands you still need to run. It is not enough to attend events or games out of obligation, while your attention is distracted by your phone or by conversations about adult matters. Children are perceptive. They notice when your mind is somewhere else, and they feel it in the quality of the interactions they have with you. True presence means engaging fully with them, listening without judgment, and responding with empathy.

Parenting is about understanding that children grow up in fleeting moments. The toddler who clings to your hand today will soon be walking into a school on their own. The child who asks endless questions will, in time, develop their own opinions and ideas. Being present means cherishing these moments and giving them your full attention. It means reading that bedtime story with genuine enthusiasm, even if you are tired. It means sitting through the countless drawings, songs, or performances they insist on sharing, and acknowledging their efforts and creativity. It means recognizing that these small moments are not trivial—they are the foundation of your child’s emotional and psychological development.

Presence in parenting also means being emotionally available. Children experience a wide range of emotions, from joy to anger to fear. They need a parent who can sit with them in their feelings, not just offer solutions or dismiss their struggles. It means being patient when they are frustrated, offering comfort when they are hurt, and celebrating with them when they succeed. Emotional presence teaches children how to process feelings, how to empathize with others, and how to cultivate resilience. These lessons are far more important than any academic or extracurricular achievement.

Another essential aspect of parenting is being a role model. Children observe not only what you say, but also how you act. They learn from your habits, your words, and your approach to life’s challenges. Showing up every day for work is important, but it is equally important to show up for your family. Demonstrating integrity, empathy, kindness, and patience teaches your children values that will guide them long after they leave home. Being present means modeling behaviors that encourage them to grow into responsible, compassionate, and confident individuals.

Parenting is not without its challenges. Life is demanding, and parents often face the pressure of balancing work, household responsibilities, and personal needs. Fatigue, stress, and frustration can make it difficult to be fully present. There are days when it feels easier to go through the motions—to check the boxes on the parenting to-do list without investing emotionally. But it is precisely during these moments that presence matters most. Children need consistency, love, and engagement, especially when life feels chaotic. Being present does not require perfection; it requires intentionality and effort, even when it is hard.

One of the greatest gifts a parent can offer is the sense of safety and belonging. Children thrive when they know they are valued and loved unconditionally. Presence communicates this in ways words alone cannot. Sitting down to listen, hugging, playing, or simply spending time together sends the message that your child matters. It is through these consistent, meaningful interactions that a parent builds trust and strengthens the bond with their child. This foundation of trust will serve as a compass for your child throughout life, helping them navigate relationships, challenges, and uncertainties.

Being present also involves nurturing curiosity, creativity, and independence. It means allowing your child the space to explore the world while being there to guide and support them. It is celebrating their individuality, encouraging them to ask questions, try new things, and express themselves. Parenting is not about controlling every outcome or dictating every decision; it is about being an anchor in their lives while allowing them the freedom to grow. Presence means being available to guide without overshadowing, to support without suffocating.

In today’s fast-paced world, distractions are everywhere. Technology, work obligations, and social commitments compete for our attention. Parents must make a conscious choice to prioritize presence, to carve out time to engage meaningfully with their children. This may mean putting down your phone during conversations, setting aside work emails, or rescheduling commitments. It is about choosing quality over quantity, understanding that the depth of engagement matters more than the mere amount of time spent together.

Parenting is also a journey of self-discovery. Being fully present with your child often teaches patience, humility, and empathy. It challenges you to confront your own weaknesses, biases, and expectations. It reminds you that perfection is not the goal; love, attention, and authenticity are. Children mirror the care and effort you invest in them, but they also challenge you to grow alongside them. Presence in parenting is not just about giving—it is about learning, evolving, and reflecting as a parent.

Ultimately, parenting is not just about getting up and going to work. It is about showing up in every sense of the word: mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It is about choosing to engage, to listen, and to care deeply. It is about celebrating the small victories, supporting your child through setbacks, and cherishing every fleeting moment. Being present requires effort, intentionality, and sometimes sacrifice, but it is the essence of meaningful parenting.

As parents, we may not always get it right. We may miss moments, lose patience, or make mistakes. But what matters is the commitment to show up consistently, with love and attention. Children remember the way we make them feel more than the tasks we complete. They remember the moments of connection, the reassurance of our presence, and the warmth of our care. Being present is a gift that shapes their self-worth, emotional resilience, and outlook on life.

In conclusion, parenting is far more than the act of waking up, working, and providing for your family. True parenting is about being present in every sense: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It is about nurturing, guiding, and loving your child with intention. It is about building trust, fostering independence, and celebrating the precious moments that make life meaningful. The journey of parenting is not always easy, but it is infinitely rewarding. Presence is the heart of parenting, and when we show up fully for our children, we give them the greatest gift of all: the assurance that they are seen, loved, and valued every single day.

Movie Recommendation: Troubled Waters (2006)

 

#DebraAndValerieMovieRecommendation

Troubled Waters (2006)

I recently watched Troubled Waters (2006), and to be honest, it caught me by surprise. At first glance, it seems like a fairly standard thriller: a missing girl, an FBI investigation, and the race to uncover the truth. But as I watched, I realized the movie offers so much more than just a procedural plot. It’s a psychological thriller that explores human secrets, lies, and moral ambiguity, with just enough supernatural intrigue—clairvoyance—to add a layer of unpredictability. What really made this film resonate with me was the way it delved into human behavior, and how deception, even within families, can have profound consequences.

The film’s central character, Special Agent Jennifer Beck, is portrayed by Jennifer Beals, and her performance is one of the reasons the movie works so well. Beck is not your typical flawless, hard-edged FBI agent often seen in crime dramas. Instead, she is a character with vulnerability, intuition, and emotional depth. Her psychic visions, which allow her to gain insights into the case, are both a gift and a burden. Watching her navigate the investigation while struggling with these visions felt real and human to me. It reminded me that solving mysteries, whether in movies or in life, isn’t just about collecting evidence; it’s also about understanding people—their motivations, their fears, and sometimes, the lies they tell themselves and others. Beals’ performance gives the audience a chance to empathize with Beck, to see her as a person trying to balance the demands of her job with the weight of extraordinary abilities that isolate her in subtle ways.

One aspect of Troubled Waters that I found especially compelling was its portrayal of human dynamics, particularly the relationships surrounding the missing girl. The mother and her lover are central figures in the story, and their interactions felt disturbingly authentic. Their secrets, moral compromises, and emotional entanglements add layers to the narrative that go far beyond a typical “who-done-it” mystery. It is unnerving to watch how easily lies can spread, how trust can be broken, and how the consequences of secrecy can ripple through the lives of everyone involved. The film’s quiet, unsettling tone lingered with me, creating a sense that danger isn’t always external; often, it resides within the very people we think we know best.

I also appreciated the pacing of the movie. Troubled Waters is a slow-burn thriller, and for me, that worked in its favor. Instead of relying on constant action or exaggerated suspense, the film allows the story to unfold methodically. This pacing gave me time to connect with the characters, understand their motivations, and feel the emotional stakes. Each revelation carried weight, and the twists—while subtle—were genuinely surprising. I found myself engaged not just in discovering who was responsible, but why they acted as they did. It’s a subtle distinction, but it is what makes the film feel thoughtful and psychologically rich.

That said, the film is not without its flaws. At times, the dialogue and certain scenes felt somewhat stilted, and the production quality had a distinct made-for-TV feel. The supernatural element—the clairvoyance—is intriguing, yet I wished it had been explored in more depth. Beck’s psychic visions clearly shape her investigation, but the film only occasionally touches on how this gift affects her emotionally or ethically. I would have liked to see more exploration of the toll her abilities take on her personal life, her decision-making, and her relationships. Even so, these imperfections didn’t significantly detract from my overall enjoyment. In fact, I found that the emotional and psychological depth of the story often overshadowed these technical limitations.

For me, the most important takeaway from Troubled Waters is that the most compelling mysteries are often not just about crimes, but about the people involved—their fears, secrets, and hidden motives. The film goes beyond the surface-level suspense and asks the viewer to consider how deception operates in everyday life. It made me reflect on trust, vulnerability, and the ways in which even well-meaning people can hurt one another when they withhold the truth. There is something universal about that theme, something that resonates even outside the context of a thriller.

One of the reasons I found the movie so engaging was the way it balanced procedural elements with emotional resonance. The FBI investigation provides structure, clues, and a sense of forward momentum, but it is the emotional and psychological layers that give the film its lasting impact. I kept thinking about the characters long after the movie ended—not just Beck, but also the mother, her lover, and even the supporting characters who all carried shades of moral ambiguity. The story reminded me that people are rarely purely good or bad, and that understanding motivations and ethical complexities often reveals more than a simple quest for justice ever could.

Jennifer Beals’ portrayal of Beck is central to this impact. Her performance is nuanced, demonstrating both strength and vulnerability. She embodies the tension between logic and intuition, duty and emotion, and professional competence versus personal struggle. Watching her grapple with her visions and the moral dilemmas posed by the case added a layer of relatability to the character. Beck is someone I could root for—not just because she is competent or clever, but because she is deeply human.

In the end, Troubled Waters may not be flashy, and it may show its TV origins in certain scenes, but it is thoughtful, emotionally layered, and surprisingly gripping. It’s a film that asks the viewer to engage not only with the mystery at hand but also with the psychological and moral dimensions of the characters’ actions. The movie lingers in your mind in a way that many thrillers do not, prompting reflection on trust, deception, and human motivation. It’s the kind of story that makes you think long after the credits roll.

If you enjoy mysteries that explore not just what happened, but why, I would highly recommend Troubled Waters. It’s a slow-burn, character-driven thriller with a quietly unsettling tone, moral complexity, and a performance by Jennifer Beals that is both strong and deeply human. It’s not perfect, but it is thoughtful, engaging, and emotionally resonant—a film that reminds us that the most compelling stories are often the ones that reveal the hidden truths within human relationships.

Ultimately, Troubled Waters is a story about people as much as it is about a missing girl. It demonstrates that mysteries are not always solved by evidence alone, but by understanding the human heart. Watching this film reminded me of the fragile nature of trust and the ripple effects of secrecy. It’s a psychological thriller that succeeds because it is grounded in reality, even when it flirts with the supernatural. And for me, that combination of human insight, suspense, and subtle supernatural intrigue made it a thoroughly enjoyable and thought-provoking watch.

What’s One Task That Deserves Your Full Focus?

If I had to choose one task that truly deserves my full focus, it would be being present. Not multitasking, not pretending to listen while mentally checking my to-do list — but genuinely being there, in the moment, with whoever or whatever needs me. In a world that glorifies productivity and constant motion, the art of presence feels almost radical. Yet, it’s the one task that continues to shape my relationships, my peace of mind, and my entire sense of purpose.

Being present sounds simple enough — until life gets loud. Between deadlines, notifications, and a thousand little demands tugging at my attention, my focus often feels scattered across a million pieces. There were years when I believed that if I wasn’t juggling three things at once, I wasn’t doing enough. I’d be replying to a message while half-listening to someone talk, or planning tomorrow before today was even halfway over. But in those moments of divided attention, I began to lose the very essence of living — the quiet magic that happens when you’re fully there.

I learned the weight of this lesson through the people I’ve loved and lost. When my dearest friend Matt passed away, I found myself replaying every conversation we ever had. I remembered the times I was too distracted, too busy, too consumed by something trivial to really listen. Those memories hurt — not because of what was said, but because of what I might have missed. Losing him reminded me that focus isn’t just about productivity; it’s about connection. It’s about being fully aware of the human being in front of you, honoring their presence with your undivided attention.

The same truth applies to family. My mum, my children, even my late grandfather — they’ve all taught me, in different ways, that life happens in moments, not milestones. I used to think success was measured by how much I achieved or how efficiently I managed my day. But real success, I’ve come to realize, lies in how deeply I experience the people and moments that make life worth living. Sitting with my mum early in the morning, watching the sky shift from deep blue to golden pink, isn’t a task on any list. Yet, it’s a ritual that grounds me. It reminds me to slow down and absorb the beauty right in front of me — the sound of her laughter, the rhythm of her words, the comfort of shared silence.

When I’m truly present, time seems to stretch differently. I notice the tiny details — the way the sunlight filters through the leaves, the sound of my bird chirping, the scent of freshly brewed coffee. These small details often carry a kind of wisdom that the rush of life drowns out. They remind me that focusing fully on one thing — whether it’s a conversation, a piece of writing, or even a moment of prayer — creates meaning. It gives texture to life.

But of course, being present isn’t always easy. My mind tends to wander — to the things I’ve yet to do, the people I miss, the plans that haven’t unfolded the way I hoped. There are moments I have to consciously pull myself back to the here and now. I remind myself to breathe, to look around, to feel instead of overthink. It’s a constant practice, a discipline that takes as much effort as any professional task. And yet, it’s the one that makes all others more meaningful.

There’s also something sacred about giving your full focus to the work that carries your soul’s imprint. For me, that’s writing. When I write — whether it’s my books, my reflections, or even a social media post that carries a piece of my heart — I disappear into it. Hours pass like minutes. Every word becomes a thread connecting my inner world to the outer one. Writing demands honesty, attention, and emotional clarity — things you can’t fake or rush. It’s in those quiet, focused hours that I feel most alive and most aligned with who I am. And yet, even this creative process requires the same kind of presence I strive for in life: the courage to stay in the moment, even when it’s uncomfortable or uncertain.

Focus, I’ve learned, is a form of love. When you give your full attention to something — a task, a person, or even a fleeting moment — you’re saying, This matters. You’re honoring its place in your world. Whether it’s listening to a loved one talk about their day, praying in silence, or simply watching your child laugh, that focus becomes a bridge — one that connects you to something larger than yourself.

There are days, of course, when the noise wins. When I find myself rushing through conversations, skimming instead of reading, or mindlessly scrolling through my phone. On those days, I feel the difference instantly. My thoughts scatter, my patience thins, and even small tasks feel heavy. It’s in those moments that I remember why being fully present is not just a choice — it’s a lifeline. Without it, life becomes a blur. With it, everything sharpens into meaning.

I once read that attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity. It resonated deeply with me. We live in a time when everyone is competing for it — every app, every ad, every voice online. To reclaim our focus, to give it intentionally to the things and people that truly matter, is almost an act of rebellion. But it’s also an act of grace. Because when we focus deeply, we don’t just change our experience of the world — we change how the world experiences us.

So when I think about the one task that deserves my full focus, it’s not some grand ambition or a single goal. It’s the simple, difficult, beautiful act of being here. Being here for the people I love. Being here for my faith. Being here for the quiet whispers of intuition that often get drowned by the noise of the world. Being here for the laughter, the loss, the lessons. Being here — not as a passenger rushing to the next destination, but as someone awake and engaged in the journey itself.

Every moment asks something of us. Some moments demand action; others, stillness. But the common thread that runs through them all is attention. The way we focus determines how deeply we live. To me, giving my full focus to the present — to the person in front of me, the work before me, the love within me — is the most important task I could ever commit to.

Because at the end of it all, I don’t think we’ll remember how efficient we were or how many things we managed to do at once. We’ll remember the moments when we were truly there. When we gave our whole heart to something, no matter how small. When we paused long enough to breathe, listen, and simply be.

And that, to me, is the one task that deserves my full focus — because in learning to be fully present, I’ve learned how to truly live.

Dealing with a Child Suffering from Severe Eczema and Psoriasis: A Parent’s Journey

Watching your child suffer is one of the hardest experiences a parent can endure. It is heart-wrenching to see them in discomfort, struggling with something beyond their control. For my son, life has been shadowed by not one, but two chronic skin conditions: eczema and psoriasis. Each of these alone is challenging, but to be struck by both simultaneously is an entirely different, exhausting, and emotional journey. We have been navigating this path since he was two years old, and the ride has been anything but easy.

Every day is a mix of vigilance, empathy, and resilience. As a parent, you quickly learn that dealing with severe skin conditions is not just about creams, medications, or dermatologist visits. It’s about the emotional toll, the limitations placed on daily activities, and the constant worry that follows your child everywhere. My son has had to be selective about what he does, where he goes, and even what he wears, all to avoid triggers that might worsen his skin. Simple activities that other children take for granted, like running freely outdoors, swimming, or even attending a theme park, require meticulous planning and preparation.

One recent outing to Universal Studios exemplified just how much thought goes into giving my son a day of fun. While other families might pack a bag with snacks, water, and sunscreen, my preparation looked quite different. I packed towels, cooling packs, band-aids, moisturizers, and all the creams he might need throughout the day. I had to anticipate flare-ups, potential accidents, and any moment his skin might feel irritated. Even with all this preparation, there is a constant underlying tension—always wondering if something has been overlooked, if he might feel uncomfortable, or if strangers might stare at his rashes.

Emotionally, the journey is complex. There are waves of heartache as I witness my son’s discomfort, frustration when treatments don’t work as hoped, and fatigue from the relentless cycle of care. It’s not easy to stay positive when every day brings a new flare-up or setback. There is a profound sense of helplessness when you cannot instantly make your child better. Seeing him choose what activities he can and cannot participate in because of his skin is heartbreaking. It’s difficult to watch him navigate a world that can sometimes be unkind or judgmental about visible differences.

Despite the challenges, there is a strong undercurrent of determination. My goal has never been to find a miracle cure, though of course I wish one existed. Instead, I strive to discover routines, strategies, and coping mechanisms that make his life more bearable, more comfortable, and more joyful. We have learned to celebrate small victories: a day without major flare-ups, a successful outing, a moment when he can play without worrying about his skin. These moments are precious, and they remind me why the fight is worth it.

Managing eczema and psoriasis requires both practical and emotional approaches. Practically, it involves creating a consistent skin care routine, keeping the skin moisturized, avoiding triggers, and monitoring flare-ups. Every decision, from the detergent we use for his clothes to the food he eats, can impact his skin. On top of that, it requires coordination with doctors, dermatologists, and sometimes specialists who can guide us through treatment options. The dedication is immense, and yet it is only half the battle.

Emotionally, it requires patience, resilience, and an understanding heart. My son needs to feel seen, understood, and supported, not just for the condition he carries, but for the child he is beyond it. We focus on teaching him to manage his own skin care as he grows, fostering independence while still being there to provide comfort and guidance. There are moments of frustration, guilt, and exhaustion, but there are also moments of pride and awe at his bravery. He navigates a world that can be unkind to visible differences with courage that inspires me every day.

One of the hardest aspects is dealing with social perceptions. People often stare, make comments, or ask intrusive questions about his skin. While we teach him resilience, it is still painful as a parent to see him subjected to judgment for something entirely beyond his control. We try to normalize his experience, explaining that his skin doesn’t define him, but the challenge is ongoing. Encouraging self-confidence while managing the practical realities of chronic skin conditions is a delicate balancing act.

Fatigue is another constant companion. Caring for a child with severe eczema and psoriasis is physically and mentally draining. The sleepless nights, the constant vigilance, and the worry about flare-ups take a toll. There are moments when I feel exhausted and frustrated, moments when I just want to fix everything immediately, even though I know healing is a slow and gradual process. Yet, the love for my son, the desire to see him live life fully and without limitations, pushes me forward. It gives me the strength to continue, even on the hardest days.

Above all, my hope is simple yet profound: I want my son to live life without being hindered by his skin conditions. I want him to enjoy experiences freely, without the constant need for planning or preparation. I want him to feel confident, to be able to play, laugh, and explore without constraints. And while a cure may not exist, a life filled with comfort, joy, and understanding is still possible. By focusing on creating routines, managing flare-ups, and fostering emotional resilience, we aim to give him as much freedom and normalcy as possible.

The journey is not easy, and there are days filled with tears, frustration, and despair. But there are also days filled with triumphs, laughter, and connection. We celebrate the small victories—the days when his skin feels comfortable, the outings that go smoothly, the moments when he forgets about his conditions and simply enjoys being a child. These are the moments that keep us going, that remind us that life can still be beautiful, even in the presence of chronic challenges.

Ultimately, dealing with a child suffering from severe eczema and psoriasis is a constant balancing act of care, advocacy, and love. It requires patience, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to the child’s well-being. There are no shortcuts, and there are no easy answers, but every step, every effort, and every bit of care matters. For my son, and for every child living with chronic skin conditions, the goal is not perfection, but quality of life. The goal is to provide comfort, support, and the ability to embrace life fully, despite the challenges.

As a parent, I have learned to navigate a complex mix of emotions: heartbreak and hope, exhaustion and determination, frustration and love. And while the road is long and often tiring, I am committed to walking it with him, every step of the way, ensuring that he knows he is loved, supported, and capable of living life to the fullest—even with eczema and psoriasis.

In the end, it is love that guides every decision, every preparation, and every moment of care. It is love that transforms fatigue into determination, frustration into patience, and heartache into empathy. My son may face challenges that many children do not, but with support, understanding, and unwavering care, he can still experience life fully, joyfully, and fearlessly. And that is what makes all the effort worthwhile.

World Mental Health Day: A Reflection on Pain, Strength, and Hope

 

Every year, World Mental Health Day serves as a reminder that mental health is not a niche topic—it is the foundation of our human experience. It affects how we think, feel, and act. It shapes how we handle stress, how we relate to others, and how we make choices. Yet, for far too long, mental health has been stigmatized, misunderstood, and brushed aside as something people should simply “get over.” But for many of us who have lived through its shadows, we know it’s not that simple.

I’ve battled depression for years. It’s a quiet war—one that rarely announces itself loudly, but instead creeps into your everyday life, often when you least expect it. There are days I wake up and feel like myself—productive, capable, even joyful. And then there are days when everything feels heavier than it should. Simple tasks feel monumental. A smile feels like a performance. But despite these challenges, I’ve learned to manage, to recognize the signs, and to take steps before the darkness deepens. I can control myself most of the time—and that small victory is something I’ve learned to be proud of.

Depression doesn’t always look like sadness. It often disguises itself as exhaustion, irritability, or apathy. It’s waking up tired no matter how much sleep you get. It’s feeling detached in a room full of people you love. It’s knowing there’s light somewhere, but not knowing how to reach it. For years, I tried to understand why I felt this way. I had love in my life, my children, my family, and meaningful projects. On paper, I had reasons to be happy. But depression doesn’t discriminate—it doesn’t care how strong, successful, or loved you are. It can seep into anyone’s life.

One of the hardest things I’ve faced is losing friends to suicide. There’s no pain quite like it—no manual that tells you how to process that kind of grief. You’re left with questions that will never be answered. What if I had called more often? What if I had noticed the signs? What if they had reached out one more time? Those questions circle endlessly, carving deep wells of guilt and sadness. I’ve lost several people I deeply cared about—people who smiled often, who made others laugh, who seemed strong. It’s haunting how often the ones who bring light to others are the ones fighting the darkest battles within.

Recently, I learned about a 17-year-old boy who jumped to his death. It wasn’t his first attempt—he had tried before, but this time, he didn’t make it out alive. I didn’t know him personally, but the news struck a chord deep within me. Seventeen. Barely an adult. A life that hadn’t even begun to unfold. When I heard what happened, I sat in silence for a long time, tears welling up without warning. I couldn’t stop thinking about him—about his parents, his friends, and how alone he must have felt in those final moments.

What shattered me even more was the realization that my own kids are around that age. My daughter Lani, my son, and their friends—they’re at a stage in life where emotions run high and the world can feel overwhelming. As a parent, that fear hits differently. You start noticing things more—when they’re quiet, when they retreat to their rooms, when they seem distracted. You wonder, Are they okay? Are they really okay? The thought that a young person could feel so hopeless, so unseen, that they believe death is the only way out—it’s unbearable. And when I picture that 17-year-old’s parents, I imagine myself in their shoes, and my heart breaks all over again.

Lani herself knows this pain too well. She lost her friend Dar to suicide last year. Watching her go through that grief was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced as a mother. I saw the shock in her eyes, the confusion, the anger, and the sadness that settled in for months. She would ask questions I had no answers for: Why would Dar do this? Didn’t anyone notice? Could we have helped? Those are questions that pierce straight through the heart. I tried to be strong for her, to hold her, to remind her that none of it was her fault—but deep down, I was grieving too. Grieving not only for Dar but for every young person who feels unseen, unheard, and unloved in a world that moves too fast to notice their pain.

In the aftermath, Lani became more aware of mental health than ever before. She started checking in on her friends more often, sending small messages just to remind them they mattered. I think losing Dar changed her, the way my own losses changed me. It’s heartbreaking that sometimes the only way we truly understand the importance of mental health is through tragedy.

As a mother, I now live with an almost constant undercurrent of worry for my children’s emotional well-being. We talk about physical health so freely—eating well, exercising, getting enough sleep—but mental health still comes with hesitation. I want my kids to know that it’s okay to not be okay. That asking for help is not a sign of weakness. That emotions, even the painful ones, are not something to be ashamed of. I’ve made it a point to be open with them about my own struggles with depression—not to burden them, but to normalize it. To show them that vulnerability is strength, and that healing doesn’t happen overnight.

When I was younger, no one talked about mental health. The phrase “depression” was often met with silence or disbelief. People would say, “You’ll be fine,” or “Others have it worse.” But mental illness is not a competition of suffering—it’s a reality that demands compassion. I wish more people understood that mental health isn’t about being happy all the time; it’s about finding balance, resilience, and coping mechanisms that work for you. For me, that means taking time for self-reflection, staying active, surrounding myself with supportive people, and allowing myself to rest without guilt when I need to.

There are still days when I feel like I’m standing on shaky ground. But I’ve learned to recognize that these moments are temporary. I remind myself of the things that anchor me—my faith, my children, my purpose. When the thoughts get dark, I breathe through them, and I remember that I’ve survived every bad day I’ve ever had so far. That reminder alone has power.

What makes mental health so complex is its invisibility. You can’t always see when someone is struggling. People can look fine on the outside and be crumbling inside. That’s why empathy matters. Kindness matters. A simple “How are you, really?” can save a life. We live in a world that glorifies perfection—perfect bodies, perfect lives, perfect families—but perfection is an illusion. What we need more of is authenticity. We need to create spaces where people can speak freely without fear of judgment or shame.

I often think about the people I’ve lost and wonder if they knew how loved they were. I hope they did. And I hope that in sharing stories like mine, others realize that they are not alone. Depression can make you feel isolated, but you are never truly alone in your pain. There are people who care deeply—even if you haven’t met them yet.

Mental health awareness isn’t just about recognizing the signs of illness; it’s about building a culture of openness and compassion. It’s about teaching our children emotional literacy—helping them name their feelings, process their pain, and reach out for help without fear. It’s about dismantling the stigma that still keeps so many silent.

If there’s one thing my journey has taught me, it’s that healing is not linear. There are setbacks and relapses, but there are also breakthroughs and moments of peace. There’s joy in small victories—getting out of bed on a hard day, showing up for someone else, finding laughter again after a long time. These moments remind us that even in the darkness, light still exists.

So on this World Mental Health Day, I want to say this: if you’re struggling, please hold on. Your story isn’t over. You are not defined by your lowest moments. You are worthy of love, healing, and understanding. And if you know someone who’s struggling, don’t assume they’re okay just because they smile. Check in. Listen without trying to fix. Sometimes, just being there is enough.

To those we’ve lost—Dar, the 17-year-old boy, my dear friends, and countless others—your absence is felt deeply. Your lives remind us why this conversation matters. Every story, every voice, every act of kindness can make a difference. We must continue to speak, to listen, and to fight the silence that mental illness thrives in.

For me, the battle with depression continues—but so does my commitment to live. To love. To raise my children with empathy. To remind them, and myself, that even in moments of despair, there is always hope. Because hope, fragile as it may seem, is the thread that keeps us connected to life.

Let’s make this day more than just awareness. Let it be a call to action—to reach out, to educate, to support, and to remember that mental health is everyone’s responsibility. We owe it to those we’ve lost, to those still fighting, and to the generations to come.

Movie Recommendation: A Step Toward Tomorrow (1996)

 

#DebraAndValerieMovieRecommendation

A Step Toward Tomorrow (1996)

Movies have a unique ability to touch our hearts and challenge our perspectives, and A Step Toward Tomorrow (1996) is one such film that resonated deeply with me. From the moment the story unfolded, I found myself drawn into a narrative that was far more than just a tale of medical hope—it was a profound exploration of love, resilience, and the extraordinary lengths to which a parent will go for their child. The film’s emotional depth, authentic performances, and inspirational message made it an unforgettable viewing experience, one that I feel compelled to recommend to anyone seeking a story that is both moving and uplifting.

At its core, A Step Toward Tomorrow tells the story of a mother’s relentless fight to save her son. What captivated me most was the character of the mother—her courage, determination, and unwavering belief that she could make a difference in her child’s life. Watching her confront impossible odds and navigate the complex world of medical procedures and hospital bureaucracy was both inspiring and heartbreaking. Her refusal to accept defeat, even when the situation seemed hopeless, is a testament to the extraordinary resilience of parents everywhere. In many ways, this mother’s journey reminded me of the silent battles that countless families face daily, battles often fought behind closed doors and without recognition. It served as a humbling reminder of the depth of parental love and the extraordinary sacrifices parents are willing to make for their children.

Equally compelling was the portrayal of the older brother, whose quiet strength and unwavering support added an essential layer of emotional depth to the story. Often, siblings are overlooked in narratives about family struggles, yet this film gave the older brother a significant presence that underscored the importance of solidarity and compassion within a family unit. His tenderness, patience, and loyalty were touching, providing a sense of hope and comfort amidst the tension of the story. Watching his interactions with both his mother and younger brother reminded me that love within a family is not always loud or dramatic—it can be quiet, steadfast, and profoundly impactful. His presence highlighted that healing, both emotional and physical, often depends not only on individual courage but also on the strength of those who stand beside us.

One of the most remarkable aspects of A Step Toward Tomorrow is its ability to balance emotional intensity with a message of hope. While the film certainly brought me to tears on multiple occasions, it never left me feeling defeated or despairing. Instead, it emphasized the power of resilience, faith, and human determination. The story reminds viewers that even in the face of overwhelming adversity, hope can be a guiding light, and love can serve as a source of immeasurable strength. This duality—the ability to portray real, raw struggle while simultaneously offering hope—is what makes the film so memorable and meaningful.

The film’s direction and performances were also noteworthy. The actors brought authenticity to their roles, making the characters’ emotions feel genuine and relatable. The mother’s anguish, hope, and unwavering commitment were portrayed with remarkable nuance, allowing viewers to experience her journey viscerally. Similarly, the older brother’s quiet yet profound support felt authentic and heartfelt, creating a dynamic that felt real rather than scripted. The interactions between the characters—especially the tender moments shared in times of uncertainty—were powerful reminders of the importance of empathy, patience, and understanding in our own relationships.

Beyond the story of medical struggle, A Step Toward Tomorrow serves as a reflection on the broader themes of family, sacrifice, and perseverance. It reminded me that life often presents challenges that seem insurmountable, yet it is our response to these challenges that defines us. The film does not shy away from showing the emotional toll of hardship—the fear, frustration, and vulnerability that come with facing the unknown—but it also celebrates the courage that emerges in response to adversity. Watching the mother and her family navigate their journey reinforced my belief in the strength of the human spirit and the transformative power of love.

Another element that stood out was the film’s ability to engage the viewer on a deeply emotional level without resorting to melodrama. The narrative was heartfelt and moving, yet it remained grounded in realism. The story did not rely on exaggerated plot twists or artificial tension to elicit an emotional response; rather, it drew its power from the authenticity of the characters’ experiences. This realism made the story even more impactful, as it encouraged viewers to reflect on their own lives and relationships. I found myself contemplating the ways in which I express love and support to those I care about and how courage and perseverance can manifest in everyday life, often in quiet, unnoticed ways.

In addition to its emotional resonance, the film offers valuable life lessons. It teaches that hope and determination can carry us through the most challenging circumstances and that the bonds of family can be a powerful source of healing. It emphasizes the importance of supporting one another, not only in times of crisis but in the small, everyday moments that strengthen our connections. Furthermore, it serves as a reminder that courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to act despite it. The mother’s unwavering commitment to her son exemplifies this principle in a profoundly moving way, inspiring viewers to approach their own challenges with a similar sense of determination and compassion.

Reflecting on A Step Toward Tomorrow, I realize that the film resonated with me not only because of its emotional narrative but also because it highlighted universal truths about love, family, and human resilience. The mother’s courage, the older brother’s support, and the unbreakable bond between family members are themes that transcend the specifics of the story and speak to anyone who has experienced love, loss, or struggle. The film encourages viewers to cherish their relationships, to approach challenges with courage, and to never underestimate the power of hope.

In conclusion, A Step Toward Tomorrow is a deeply moving and inspiring film that left a lasting impression on me. It is more than a story about medical challenges; it is a testament to the strength of the human spirit, the power of love, and the resilience of families. The performances were authentic and heartfelt, the narrative was emotionally engaging without being melodramatic, and the lessons it imparts are both timeless and universal. I found myself laughing, crying, and ultimately feeling uplifted by the story, a testament to its profound emotional impact.

I wholeheartedly recommend A Step Toward Tomorrow to anyone seeking a film that will touch their heart, inspire their spirit, and remind them of the enduring power of family. It is a film that encourages reflection, empathy, and hope, leaving viewers with a renewed appreciation for the resilience and love that define our most meaningful relationships. Whether you are a parent, sibling, or simply someone who values stories of courage and perseverance, this film will resonate deeply and leave a lasting impression.

A Step Toward Tomorrow is not just a movie—it is an emotional journey that reaffirms the enduring power of love, the importance of family, and the unyielding human capacity to hope and persevere. Watching it was a profoundly moving experience, and I am confident that it will touch the hearts of anyone who takes the time to engage with its story. For me, it was a reminder that even in the darkest moments, the bonds of family and the courage of the human spirit can illuminate a path forward, one step at a time.