https://riseaboveyournormblog.wordpress.com/ When I first came up with the name Rise Above Your Norm, it wasn’t just a catchy title or a motivational phrase. It was a promise — to myself. A promise that no matter how many times life broke me down, I would find a way to rise again. That I would no longer settle for survival. That I would rebuild, even from the ashes, and help others do the same. 🌪️ Breaking Free From My “Normal” For most of my life, my norm was pain. It was chaos, addiction, and trauma. It was living in constant fight-or-flight mode — never trusting peace, never feeling safe in my own skin. That was the world I knew. That was my normal. But there comes a moment in healing when you realize — your “normal” isn’t serving you anymore. It’s not protecting you, it’s holding you hostage. And that’s when the real work begins: The decision to rise above it. 💔 Rising Doesn’t Mean Forgetting Rising above your norm doesn’t mean pretending the pain never happened. It doesn’t mean ignoring your past, or erasing your mistakes. It means facing them — owning them — and still choosing to grow. It means saying: > “Yes, I’ve been through hell… but I’m not staying there.” For me, it meant looking in the mirror and deciding to stop identifying with the brokenness, and start identifying with the strength it took to survive. 🌱 A Movement of Healing Rise Above Your Norm isn’t just my personal mantra anymore — it’s a movement. It’s a message to anyone who’s ever felt too damaged to start over. To the addict trying to stay clean. To the survivor learning to trust again. To the mother rebuilding her life piece by piece. It’s about knowing that we all have a norm — a version of life that once felt unchangeable — and realizing we have the power to rise above it. 💫 My Why I started this journey in recovery, rebuilding from nothing — not just to heal myself, but to use my story to help others heal too. Because healing alone is hard.

There’s a strength that lives within each of us — quiet, unseen, and often discovered only through pain. The Warrior Inside of Me is a reflection on survival, healing, and reclaiming the power that life’s struggles tried to bury. The Warrior Inside of Me There’s a warrior inside of me. She wasn’t born from glory, fame, or success — she was forged in pain, heartbreak, and survival. She rose from the ashes of everything I thought would destroy me. For years, I didn’t recognize her. I only saw the broken pieces — the exhaustion, the tears, the nights I wanted to give up. But the truth is, she was always there… quietly fighting battles no one could see. Being a warrior doesn’t mean I never fall apart. It means I’ve learned how to pick myself back up — even when my hands are shaking. It means I’ve faced demons that live in my own mind, and I’m still standing. It means I’ve fought battles that others couldn’t understand and survived storms that tried to drown me. The warrior inside of me has scars, but she’s not ashamed of them anymore. Those scars tell stories — of lessons learned, of resilience, of a strength I didn’t know I had. They remind me that I’ve already survived 100% of my worst days. Sometimes she’s quiet — reflective — taking a moment to breathe before the next battle. Other times, she’s fierce — standing tall, unafraid to speak truth, unafraid to love herself through the chaos. She’s not perfect, but she’s real. She’s human. There were times I doubted her — times I thought she was gone forever. Addiction tried to silence her. Mental illness tried to break her. Life’s pain tried to bury her. But somehow, she kept fighting. She whispered, “Not today satan.” And with every small victory, every moment of courage, she grew stronger. The warrior inside of me is not who I became after I healed — she’s the reason I started healing in the first place. She is the voice that tells me I am enough, even when I don’t feel like it. She reminds me that strength isn’t about never breaking — it’s about continuing to rise, even when it hurts.

Life has a way of surprising us with what it gives. Some gifts arrive beautifully wrapped — moments of joy, laughter, love, and connection. Others show up unannounced and unwanted — loss, disappointment, and struggle. Yet, in their own quiet way, every experience carries something we’re meant to receive. The easy gifts are simple to recognize. They fill our hearts and remind us why it’s good to be alive. But the hard ones — those often go unnoticed until time softens the edges. Sometimes, the very things that once brought us pain end up teaching us the most about who we are. The heartbreak that made us more compassionate. The setback that taught us patience. The failure that led to growth. These are the hidden gifts — the kind that can only be unwrapped through reflection and acceptance. When we start to look at life through this lens, even our struggles begin to shift in meaning. They become teachers rather than punishments. Every challenge offers an opportunity to grow, to see differently, to understand ourselves and others more deeply. It’s easy to focus on what we lack or what we’ve lost. But when we pause to see what life has already given — even in the smallest ways — gratitude begins to change everything. So, take a moment today to think about your own journey. What gifts has life placed in your hands? What lessons have quietly shaped you along the way? ✨ Share in the comments: What’s one “gift” life has given you that didn’t look like a gift at first? Because sometimes, the most meaningful gifts aren’t the ones we ask for — they’re the ones we never expected. Bigmommaj

The demons live inside me. Not the kind you see in movies these ones wear my voice, they know my secrets, they drag me down when no one’s looking. They tell me I’m not enough. They remind me of every failure, every mistake, every reason why I should stay broken. Addiction feeds them. It whispers, “Just one more… you’ll feel better.” It promises silence, but really it’s a louder cage. A prison that feels like freedom until the walls close in. Mental illness sharpens them. Depression says life isn’t worth it. Anxiety screams I’ll never be enough. Trauma replays itself like an old film I never asked to watch. And me? I’m stuck in the middle of the war. Between wanting peace and wanting release. Between loving my children and hating myself. But here’s the truth: I am not my demons. I am the fighter inside the storm. I am the voice that still whispers, “Get up. Try again. Breathe.” Recovery isn’t clean. It’s bloody. It’s messy. It’s choosing to fight even when your hands shake, even when the demons scream louder than your hope. But each day I choose again, I weaken them. If you’re battling your own demons, hear me— you are not alone. Your fight is real, your pain is valid, your survival is proof of your strength. The demons may live inside us, but they don’t get to win. We rise, again and again, until our light outshines the darkness. ✨ If you are struggling with mental health or addiction, please reach out for help. You don’t have to fight this battle alone. On my blog Rise Above Your Norm, I share pieces of my own journey through pain, recovery, and hope—because together, we can rise above the demons inside Bigmommaj 💙 Resources for Support Canada: Talk Suicide Canada – Call or text 988 anytime. U.S.: National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – Call or text 988. U.K. & Ireland: Samaritans – Call 116 123. International: Find a helpline at findahelpline.com. If addiction is part of your struggle: U.S.: SAMHSA National Helpline – 1-800-662-4357 Canada: Wellness Together Canada – Call 1-866-585-0445

A mother’s love is something that doesn’t come with instructions. It grows inside of you the moment you hold your child, and it never stops—no matter what life throws your way. As a mother of seven, I know this truth in the deepest way. My children have been my greatest joy and my greatest teachers. They’ve taught me patience, strength, forgiveness, and above all—unconditional love. Even when life became heavy with struggles, even when I doubted myself, even when I felt broken, the one thing that never left me was the love I had for my kids. There were days when I wasn’t sure how I would make it through, times when guilt and shame whispered that I wasn’t enough. But even in those moments, my children were the reason I kept fighting. A mother’s love doesn’t stop when she’s tired. It doesn’t quit when life gets hard. It keeps showing up—through tears, through prayers, through late nights of worry and early mornings of hope. As a mother, I’ve learned that love isn’t just about holding your child when things are good. It’s about loving them when they’re hurting, when they’re angry, when they’re pushing you away, and even when life’s battles—addiction, mental illness, pain—make everything feel impossible. My love for my children has been tested in ways I never thought I’d survive, but it never left. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I was enough. Times I felt guilt heavy on my chest, questioning every decision. Days I worried that my struggles might overshadow the love I carried inside me. But here’s what I know now: my children have always been my reason to keep going. Even in my darkest moments, the love I had for them was my anchor. A mother’s love is fierce. It forgives when the world says not to. It believes when no one else does. It sacrifices without keeping score. And sometimes it means standing back and letting your child find their own way, even when every part of you wants to protect them. Now, as a grandmother, I see love come full circle. Watching my granddaughter grow reminds me that a mother’s love passes down through generations. It’s in the way we hold our babies, the way we speak life into them, the way we never give up—even when the world tells us to.