Self-Portrait

Who’s the imposter inside your skin?
Is it you?
Is it me?
Is it her or is it him?

Who’s that voice you hear in your head?
Is it hers?
Is it his?
Mama said, Daddy said.

What are those words
Coming out of your face?
Are they filled with life 
Or marred with disgrace?

Those thoughts in your head 
Too many to count
Slow them down… 
Reduce the amount. 

Deep belly breaths 
Innnnn and then out
Release the stress
Let go of the doubt.

You are whole
You are free
Let it be
You will see

The shame from past sins 
May no longer reside
The present is now
Where I no longer hide.

The sanctity of this moment
Right here in my face
Reminding me of my mantra
Which is “grace upon grace”.

Divinity rises
Darkness is light
I no longer will fear
What’s not in plain sight.

As I pen these words
The light is breaking through
Not only for me
It’s also for you. 

Joy Original 
10/23/23

I’m not quite ready to go into this one. It is so deeply personal. I post this for the one who needs to know they are not alone in the struggle. No matter what the specificities may be, we find similarities in our humanity. Think what could happen if we begin looking at the human being across from us with compassion and understanding no matter what condition they are in. This is a time for love. More than I have ever witnessed.
We will never cure hate with more hate. Love is the answer. It always has been.

After She’s Gone

Yesterday was the first of many firsts.
It was the first time I celebrated a birthday without my mama on this earth.

She died on a Monday. July 17th. 
It’s been a little more than 1 month and yet it feels like many more.
Grief is tricky that way.

I have grieved many things in many ways but none like this.
I’ve lived enough for 10 people in this one life and never have I found sadness to be as complex & intricately woven throughout my being as this of my mother no longer bound by earthly limitations.

I’ve been abnormally quiet over the last 4 weeks.
Even still I am thankful for each one of you who have reached out to express your condolences. I know that takes courage, especially when you aren’t sure what to say.

The relationship with my mom was complicated and now I am learning how that translates into a grief that is not without complication.

I have thrown myself into this campaign to raise money for baby llama, Callisto Stardust, in an effort to do something productive while processing how in the hell I’m supposed to handle this sorrow that continues to perplex & challenge me.

I’m finding that while one moment I’m laughing and completely okay, the next I’m in the bathroom stall of a public restroom bawling my eyes out after realizing that I won’t need to find a Christmas present for her this year.

Mom didn’t call before 8am to sing “Happy Birthday” referring to me as only she did, “Joy Beth.” (She’s the only one who has ever shortened my middle name of Elizabeth to Beth.) Once again something I never thought I would miss, I find myself longing to hear once more.

I’m learning.
Grief is grossly personal.
No two people will experience it the same way.
Including sisters. I’m certain I am processing & moving through the world differently than either of my sisters. 
Guess what? That’s okay.

I know this has led to a great deal of judgment from those onlookers who know the person I was 2 decades ago. I’ve had to let go of that in an effort to get up in the morning and do basic life skills like brushing my teeth and making the bed.

This is a lingering grief. One I am now certain never goes away, only softens as healing continues. My hope is to learn from my experience in this that can only be described as the place after witnessing the valley of the shadow of death.

So instead of postponing or ignoring the many emotions that can surface all at once in this season, I’m asking it, as I do most things after the initial shock wears off,
“What are you here to teach me?”

I hesitated to ask in this case as I wasn’t sure I had the patience left to learn, but thankfully I have a group of the most badass women consisting of medical & mental health professionals as well as girlfriends who are willing to guide me while also pointing out potential pitfalls. If you do not have a therapist who truly sees and meets you right where you are while maintaining the goal of not leaving you there, l would strongly encourage you to seek one out.

These are the lessons I hope to be familiar enough with to share, offering hope to others not as far along in this classification no one chooses to join.

Teach me…

How to be a better listener,
When to keep my mouth shut,
When to explain my reasoning for why I’m not doing what everyone expects me to do,
How to be present with someone else’s pain, 
When to sit in the silence many find deeply unsettling,
How to forgive someone for something they were not mindful of doing,
The meaning of acceptance without fully understanding.

I thought I had a decent grasp on grief. Not just one type, many.
Turns out, I’m still learning and growing.
And that, if nothing else, is beautiful.

(the gorgeous flowers around Mom’s pictures are all by my incredibly talented sister, Jennifer. Owner & Lead Designer of J. Riley Design.)

An Invitation

It has been too long since I’ve written & shared here. I’ve missed this space so much.
This post is by a dear friend of mine, written to her baby boy in heaven, Harrison.
It is beyond beautiful.

Holding Harrison

Good morning, my beautiful baby boy.

It’s been quite awhile since I last wrote here, and I’m not exactly sure why I’ve found myself typing here again, not sure who will read this but hoping the words spoken are an outpouring of the Spirit and can provide comfort for someone, while also healing little pieces of my broken heart as well.

This morning I have been feeling the rising tide of grief, its pulling me toward the depths, attempting to submerge me in anxiety, pain, guilt, and unmet longing. Unlike the tides of the sea, its timing is more unpredictable and often inconvenient. But it is welcome here, because grief coincides with the closeness of you. For if I cannot hold you and watch you grow, then my heart can at least welcome the clenching pangs of grief to remember you and wish for you. And much like the tides…

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Little Brown Girl In The Sun

I’ve never spoken about this.
I started to…many times.
The pain of the “what-if’s” was paralyzing, preventing my fingers from typing the words.

Every year when I see the social media posts with the red X’s I think,
“This is the year to talk about this. It’s time. Just sit down and write!”
And once again the fear of the potential tragedy and grief overwhelm me, leaving me unable to form the words.

A few days ago, the hashtag #savethechildren popped up in my feed. As I scrolled through the posts, there I was, back in the same headspace I’ve been for the last 4 years.

“Tell the story.
Her story.
Harper Rain…and Tuda…
That awful day…
Can I even remember the details correctly?
It’s too hard.
I can’t.
. . . . .
Someone needs this.
Someone needs to know they’re not alone.
Shine a light in the darkness.
Bring awareness.
Grieve openly with those who are personally affected.
Share the story.”

It took a few days, but here I am, fingertips to keys, words on paper.
Breaking my years-long silence with this story of how a beautiful, playful, unremarkable day could have ended in life-altering tragedy.

I was taking pictures of Harper as I’ve done since the day she was born.
My sister drove up, we had a wonderful day shooting.

She planned to stop at a large retail store on her way out of town, for a quick shopping trip.

The crowds were thicker than usual causing my sister to hold on to Harper a little tighter. As they were headed towards the exit, a well-dressed man moving swiftly through the crowd, grabbed Harper’s arm, pulling her from my sister’s grasp. Within seconds, Tuda was watching the stranger carry Harper towards the elevators leading to the parking deck.

She began screaming and running towards the man as Harper looked back at her, over the shoulder of the stranger.

Just before advancing through the open doors of the elevator, the man tripped, dropping Harper to the ground. An onlooker swept her up as the perpetrator slid through the now closing doors of the elevator. He was gone.

All of this happened in less than 60 seconds.

Out of breath, my sister approached the good Samaritan now holding her daughter, he quickly placed Harper in her mama’s arms.

Relief, adrenaline, horror, outrage, unconditional love, all swirled together in her mind and heart. “Thank you, God!”

The police arrived quickly to take statements and file a report.

The officer informed Tuda of a ring of human traffickers working the area in Atlanta. He had no doubt the man was headed for the elevator leading down to a running vehicle waiting to make a quick exit from the garage and onto the freeway.
“If he had made it to the car with her, the chances of you ever seeing your daughter again would have been slim to none,” he told her.

By this time the onlookers had mostly dispersed. The man who stuck his foot out tripping the predator, and scooping up our Harper, was nowhere to be found.

My sister, too shaken up to drive the 2-1/2 hours home, booked a hotel room. I arrived shortly after her call, alerting me to what had just taken place.

We watched Harper run around the room, playing in beams of light from the setting sun shining through the window…oblivious to the life-altering danger she was in a short time ago.

My sister and I said very little.

We sat in gratitude, with tears running down our cheeks and the sun’s warmth on our faces.

“Do you believe in angels?” You ask.
“Why, yes…without a doubt, I believe in angels.”

Below is a poem I wrote after leaving the hotel room that night while thanking God for sparing us from the living hell of what could have been.

“Little brown girl in the sun,
Little girl of only one,
Reaching higher for the light,
Don’t you know you burn so bright
Dancing in their golden hue
Don’t you know it’s all for you
Beams of love, protection, & grace
Swirl around and kiss your face
The Angels knew you at first sight
Precious one, adorned in light.”

– Joy Cannis
July 2, 2016
For Harper Rain

For more information on human trafficking visit one or all of these organizations.

A21

Free The Slaves 

Do Something

Hope For Justice

When You Wanna Quit…Everything

Ever have a day where you wanted to run away with only the clothes on your back?

It just feels like too much.
Too much noise.
Too much stuff.
Too much maintenance.
Too much drama.
Too much responsibility.
It’s tooooooooo dang much!
(Notice no one ever says, “Too much money.”)

I said to a plumber the other day, who came to fix the mystery leak in our ceiling, (refer to picture), as he was breaking down the cost to explore the issue, “It suuuuuuuucks being an adult today.”

He looked at me and 1/2 chuckled as to say, “I have no idea how to respond? We just met and I think you might be crazy.”

He looked back at Chris who was now looking at me grinning, as I continued,
“No, for real. Do you feel it? The suckage of adulthood right now, in this moment, cause I sure do!”

I then made my dramatic exit, walked up the stairs and pretended there wasn’t a large green bucket in the foyer catching dripping water and the occasional piece of soaked sheetrock falling from the ceiling.

I’m ignoring the fact that the water is off in the house so I cannot wash my hands and I’m a tad OCD about germ control. And HELLO we all know the best way to prevent illness is through proper handwashing!

Anywho… by this point, I’m sitting on the fluffy bathroom floor mat. Feet against one wall, back against the other. The fan is on (sound control people) and the door is locked (no interruptions). Eyes closed. (I distract easily)

Have you ever looked around and blamed your circumstances?
Your husband? Your children? That extra pudge around my middle from the holiday indulgences?

I get it!
I’m right there with you!

And when I’m in these moments (that, I’m not gonna lie, sometimes stretch into days), I want to remember what I’ve experienced to be true every day of my life… (it’s important when you’re freaking out to speak truth to your destructive thoughts)

• Feelings are temporary. Making permanent decisions based on temporary emotions always produces a negative outcome.
• Mama’s need a lot more grace than we give ourselves.
• Sometimes all the demands we feel the world placing on us are coming more from us than anyone/where else. (Ouch, right? The truth hurts)
• Don’t underestimate the power of saying, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Especially with children. They are so much more forgiving than we give them credit for.
• Maybe you just need to reconnect with your partner. (wink, wink)
• It’s okay to stop mid-sentence and admit to being overly dramatic. It has been my experience that my husband never makes me feel bad about pausing to laugh at the energy I’m bringing to any given situation.

When I calm down enough to admit that I’m being ridiculous, I’m able to think through what running away would actually look like… my coffee habit alone is enough to deter me.

So whadda ya say?
This year, today, right now, can we I practice gratitude?
Better yet, am I willing to be grateful even when the ceiling’s falling in (literally)?

Good news on the mystery leak that stumped a Plumber, a Roofer, and a General Contractor.
After being manly and cutting away a bigger part of the ceiling, Chris found the source of the problem. (Isn’t that just like him?!)
View the video to see what happened.

As you may have expected, his hotness skyrocketed after defusing my bomb of emotions and worry and a leaky copper pipe in the ceiling that professionals couldn’t figure out. Turns out, Chris is consistently defusing potential explosions of all sorts every day.

The next time I wanna run away, I’ll come here instead. I have a whole new appreciation for my husband. Thanks, Y’all!

It feels good to be back. I’ve missed this space.
Here’s to more time writing in 2019!

What Defines You?

“You have the ugliest feet I’ve ever seen!” he slurred.

I remember where we were
The dirt stain from one end to the other of his well-worn white t-shirt
The way his breath stank of cheap booze from 4 ft. away
His skinny arm around the beautiful girl he was with
The grin that spread across his face, exposing the toothpick pinned between his upper and lower teeth
I cannot, however, remember his name.

We all kind of laughed quietly and awkwardly.
For the next 3 years, anytime I was in public, I wore closed-toe shoes.
He had confirmed what I suspected all along. My ugly.

A guy.
I’d only just met.
When I was 18 years old.
At a concert.
Who I haven’t seen since.

That’s messed up.
But so very normal for a girl like me with a mind and emotions like mine.
I wish someone had told me that.

It’s regretful to think of all the time I’ve wasted replaying scenarios of happenings decades ago and because I was not already defined in my own mind and heart, I grabbed hold of them and said, “You will define me.”

Fast forward 20 somethin’ years later…When it was time to unshackle myself from these definitions.
It has been an incredibly painful process…the tearing away of that which was never meant to be part of me at all, but by doing so has, by fire, refined me.
Not without tears and wounds, and, at times, gnashing of teeth.
Not without a notable amount of doubt.
But nonetheless, improved.

Why must we strive so hard to hold on to that which keeps us paralyzed?
It is only when seeing the space once bloodied and torn, peeled away for the first time, I can appreciate the beauty of the scar that remains.

I do not find it coincidental that the season of life when I’m learning the most is in my 40’s… when I feel the best I’ve ever felt in my own skin…but something is always breaking down, requiring repair.
We’re not talkin’ about a few split-ends or a smudged manicure, we’re talking degenerative disc disease and bone spurs, torn ligaments requiring an air-cast one would wear when walking on the moon. (okay, I made that last part up about the moon, but still…) I ended up flat on my back for 3 days after pulling a muscle while bending over to pick up a receipt.

Simultaneously, as this body is going into “just out of warranty” mode, my spirit has never been so free.
Is that strange? Or is it as each decade has been?
Looking back makes more sense than I ever thought it could.

I actually don’t think I would have wanted to be 40 in my 20’s. While I could have prevented some astronomical errors in judgment, I also wouldn’t have experienced the pain that led me here, to this moment of spiritual freedom. Of that, I am certain.

Shame is a powerful thing, friend.
It has weighted down my spirit for many years making me more accessible to the chains of the lies that bind and deplete.
It’s easy for me to look back now and think, “Why didn’t I do this SO much sooner?!”
As I feel a quiet voice in my spirit speak, “Because the lesson wouldn’t have been the same.”

Everything is timing Y’all.
Or as it’s said, “Timing Is Everything.”

If you’re reading this and you’re in…
… your 20‘s, you’ll just have to trust me. You’ve been skimming this anyway so maybe set a digital reminder to come back and read it in a few years.
… your 30‘s, you’re nodding your head a bit realizing that more is being revealed. Even now, in the midst of uncertainty. You may have grinned and laughed a little at the thought of being bedridden from bending over. Careful. I probably laughed too.
… your 40‘s, you may have read half way down and already related to my beginning… Even said an “Mmm-Hmm.” “Yeah, Girl!” “Me too!” “I feel you!” Or maybe you’re thanking God for those of us who were good enough examples of what rebellion looked like to keep you on the straight and narrow.
… your 50‘s+, my guess is that you’re thinking, “Darling, just wait!”
And I’ll be honest, I’m going to take that as something to be both excited and terrified by.

My Brand of Crazy

“I want to be a mouthpiece for hope not a megaphone for fear.”
– Joy Cannis Original

Now more than ever, we need someone to lift our face from the ground, back to what’s in front of us and up to the heavens, reminding us who we are and that there is greater purpose just beyond our edges of self-preservation. Recognizing and utilizing that which has been inside us all along. (Yet what we’ve been looking for everywhere but where it is.)

Stop waiting for hope to find you and be the hope right where you are. I am learning that the only way to become unstuck is to put one foot in front of the other until I’ve repositioned myself to excel and grow.

The last 18 months have been some of the most difficult in my journey.
My children have struggled beyond my ability to step in and rescue.
I weened off of a two-year opioid prescription.
I ran back into the arms of my eating disorder.
I cried on my doctor’s exam table.
I shared my testimony with thousands of women.
I entered into a season of intensive outpatient therapy.
I broke apart…shattered…into tiny pieces that I wasn’t sure could ever be repaired
until the Master Creator picked them up, one by one, sanctified each jagged edge and put me back together in a new way than I’ve ever been before.
And the Holy Spirit is present with me in a way I never thought possible.

Have you heard the saying, “Feelings are constantly changing so don’t rush to act on a certain/current feeling”? I have experienced a multitude of feelings in this season. I would go from sheer elation to utter hopelessness within the course of 24 hours. Sometimes more than once. Most days I felt like I was on the brink of insanity. I’m so grateful I didn’t act on any one particular feeling.

I think back to a time, 22 years ago, when the head of psychiatry at the treatment center where I had taken up temporary residency wrote, “This girl is narcissistic and beyond human aid!” on my treatment plan. I cut out of rehab 1 day shy of the required 30 and was therefore considered to have left “against doctor’s orders” and didn’t receive any of the personal items I had come in with. Nope. Just the clothes on my back. That was my m.o. You say I’m ________________ and I’ll prove it.

I stayed mad at that shrink for a long time. I replayed his words while picturing the scribbled notes in blue ink. I used it as an excuse to stay drunk.

Now, today, in this moment, I can tell you that doctor was right. His definition of me was spot on. I was “beyond human aid.” Which allows no room for doubt…

Only God.
Only God could heal what was fractured.
Only God could restore me to sanity.
Only God could allow me to be broken, once again in such a way that He alone could pick up each piece, breathe life back into it, and put me back together.

Although I have had a tribe of badass physicians, friends, prayer warriors and family surround me with their incredible courage, love, and support, God changed this girl’s heart. From the inside out. He gets all the credit.

I don’t know what “feeling” you’re sitting in today?
For what it’s worth, I’m living proof that yesterday’s feeling turns into today’s relief.
Whatever it is,
However hopeless or wonderful it “feels”,
It’s going to change.
So if it’s incredible, enjoy every moment
and if it’s seemingly unbearable,
Hold on.
Hold on.
Relief is coming.
Maybe not the way you are expecting or what you’re used to, but it’s there and it will be yours.