📚Storytime with Steph📚

I was at TJ Maxx the other day, and I stumbled across this eyeshadow palette. I didn’t need it, but as soon as I saw the Tasmanian Devil on the front, I couldn’t help but smile. I had to buy it. It wasn’t because of the colors or even the product itself, it was the story behind it.

When I was a little girl, my mom’s nickname was the Tasmanian Devil. That name carried a lot of meaning for me, and not all of it was good. My mom met a man at the Salvation Army when I was seven and he moved in with us. He didn’t have the same nickname but he had a devil tattooed on his forearm. Their relationship was toxic, and there was so much chaos in our “home”. I can’t say everything was bad because there were moments of light, but a lot of my childhood felt heavy and less than holy.

I remember learning how to hide when things got heated between them. I spent a lot of time walking through neighborhoods, just staying away from the trailer that we moved into when I was 10. I’ll never forget the day my stepdad left for good. The only word to describe that day was confusingly silent. My mom was sitting on the floor of our trailer when we came home from school, completely unresponsive. She was staring into space. She wouldn’t talk to us, wouldn’t even look at us. At the time, I had no idea what was going on. She sat there for far too long. I remember begging her to talk to me. I remember the burning tears as I begged her to talk to me. She didn’t speak to us for days. My brother and I were so young, and all we understood was that something wasn’t right. There was a moment I remember wishing she would scream at us or get angry like normal because the silence hurt worse.

Looking back now as an adult, I can see how much pain my mom must have been in. I have more compassion for her now, even though her choices to self medicate and mentally escape her life, and us, weren’t healthy. But as a little girl, I felt like we were a burden to her. I rarely remember a smile or hearing her laugh. Those moments were so rare that I hold onto the few memories I have of her laughing because they remind me that she wasn’t all chaos. There was still something good inside her, even if it was hard for her to show.

So when I saw this Tasmanian Devil eyeshadow, it felt like a little reminder. A reminder of where I’ve been and gratitude for where I am now. It’s like I needed to take that part of my story and see it differently, to find the beauty in it somehow. This little palette might just be makeup, but it’s also, oddly, a symbol of my history.

To anyone out there who’s facing the “devil” in their life right now, maybe it’s a person, a situation, or just a storm you’re stuck in, I want you to know you’re not alone. You don’t have to walk through it forever. You are stronger than you think, and even in the middle of the chaos, there is light. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but it’s there. And one day, you’ll be able to look back on the chaos you have survived and know that it didn’t break you. Hopefully, you will choose to push through the pain and trauma, allowing it to transform, until that old Tasmanian Devil becomes nothing more than a playful character from a childhood cartoon and your darkest nightmares fade into the colors of a distant memory. It might even become part of what makes you strong.

So hold on. Keep walking. You’re not defined by the disasters around you, and you’re not alone in facing them.