I’ve lived through seasons that many would label as hopeless. But I never claimed hopelessness. I’ve been without a home, but I never called myself homeless. My money has been funny, but I never said I was poor. My health has had its ups and downs, but I never claimed sickness. My situations have been precarious, but I never said I was destroyed. I’ve been challenged, but never worthless. I’ve been delayed, but never denied.

In 2017, after 20 years of marriage, two children, and a household income of over $90,000. I found myself divorced and navigating life with two special needs sons. My eldest required 24-hour care and was placed in a residential educational facility. My youngest and I returned to my childhood home—begrudgingly. But that wasn’t the end of me.

Later that year, we were evicted. I didn’t believe I’d ever enter the shelter system. I tried everything—extended stay hotels, apartment hunting. On January 28th, after much prayer and surrender, I submitted to the Department of Homeless Services. But even then, I wasn’t homeless. My son always had a bed. I never gave up.

By August 1st, we moved into a one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. I was in the middle of a tumultuous divorce and a custody battle with a man who couldn’t release control. He weaponized our child’s mental health against me. But I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t mentally incapacitated. I needed answers, not pity.

I was invited into an investment insurance brokerage program. Though my income was meager, I still had income. I was told I’d never get out of debt, never succeed. But I knew better. I considered becoming a licensed investment broker. I’m an accountant by trade and excellent with numbers. But I hate cold calling. Still, I understood the business. What I didn’t accept was someone telling me what I couldn’t do based on what they saw.

Too many people only see where you are, not where you’re going. But my future isn’t theirs to foretell.

For the past 10 years, my full-time job has been raising my sons. I’ve been their personal assistant, their advocate, their constant. I don’t regret it. I built a foundation so that when they reached adulthood, my responsibilities would shift. And they have. Thankfully, many of their childhood illnesses have faded.

I remember a young woman in the shelter saying, “Don’t wait until you have it all together to help us. Help us while you’re still in the mix.” That stuck with me. I’m not coming to you polished. My situation is still precarious. Most people are just a few paychecks away from homelessness. One fire, one job loss, and everything can change.

So here’s what I want you to consider:

🌱 Change Your Language

We live in a voice-activated world. What we speak sets the atmosphere. When we say “I am,” we invoke the presence of the Most High—whose name is “I Am.” So never attach a negative word to that sacred phrase.

If a doctor says you have a terminal illness, don’t say “I have…” Say “I’ve been afflicted by…” I suffer from asthma and migraines. They’ve tried to tell me arthritis is moving in. I’m trying to evict it. My body wasn’t built for it. I don’t claim it.

I will always say: I am bright. I am brilliant. I am successful. I am valuable. I am purposeful. Because I understand my worth.

🛡️ Your Past Doesn’t Define You

Yes, I was abused, neglected, and abandoned as a child. But that didn’t define me. It shaped paths I chose not to follow. I am not just one aspect of my life. I am the totality of everything I’ve lived through. My experiences are good, bad, and indifferent.

🔥 Speak Life

How we communicate about ourselves shapes how we see ourselves. The world will try to destroy you. But the Most High created you in His image. There’s nothing flawed about you.

So speak life. Speak abundance. Speak healing. Speak purpose. Speak truth. Speak power.

There’s an Apostle who says we must pray for crop failure—for the destructive seeds we’ve spoken over our own lives. Let’s start planting seeds of life today.

I’m Harvesting Abundance!

This is Me, Cee Marie.