Amelia Zachry - Enough: A Memoir of Mistakes, Mania, and Motherhood

Praise for Enough

Enough is a memoir reflective of the arduous, often non-linear journey of growth through mental illness and the after-effects of trauma. Zachrys honest, genuine, and direct descriptors of her symptoms and experiences will help countless others who are facing their own struggles navigating mental illness.

Dr. Kari Jones, licensed psychologist

There is little BILPOC representation when it comes to memoirs about trauma and mental illness. In Enough, Zachry takes on these hard subjects with writing that is beautiful, powerful, and compelling. You wont soon forget this brave, important book.

Claudia Love Mair, author and coordinator of the Kentucky Black Writers Collaborative

In this compelling debut, Zachry takes the reader on an unflinchingly honest, heart-wrenching journey.

Anastasia Zadeik, author of Blurred Fates

Enough is the story of one womans journey to find her place in the world, despite a nagging sense of abandonment, racial insecurity, a history of trauma, and the unfortunate stigma associated with mental illness. Zachry captures it all with grace and illuminates the art of healing.

Rica Keenum, author of Petals of Rain and Which One of Us is Broken

A Memoir of Mistakes, Mania, and Motherhood

Amelia Zachry

SHE WRITES PRESS

Copyright 2022, Amelia Zachry

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

Published 2022

Printed in the United States of America

Print ISBN: 978-1-64742-291-2

E-ISBN: 978-1-64742-292-9

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022907070

For information, address:

She Writes Press

1569 Solano Ave #546

Berkeley, CA 94707

She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

Names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of certain individuals.

For my daughters,

the lights of my life, the seeds of my strength.

There are no wrong cards.

Majestic red rocks towered over me, baronial in their exhibition. This was my first time to Sedona, Arizona, and I felt the strength of the mountains, the power of being enveloped in their magnificence. This marvelous scene was a humbling reminder of how far Id come over these past seventeen years, a journey that had too often been a downward spiral. Only recently had I discovered my own internal nethow to catch myself, to speak again, to bear the weight of my being on my own two feet. These mountains seemed a symbol of this newfound strength. I had just turned thirty-six, and this trip was part of a delayed celebration.

People travel to Sedona from all over the world for spiritual revival, restoration, or reenergizing. In the desert, I felt ablaze with energy, love, and lifethings that had often felt elusive in the past nearly two decades. That rusty red against a beautiful, blue, clear spring sky tugged at my heart. I felt as if I was always meant to touch this red dirt, to bathe in this energy vortex, allowing my energies to open up and soar freely. I was home.

Daniel, my husband, agreed that I needed a break from the daily demands of being a stay-at-home mom, every ounce of my essence spent on mothering. My two beautiful daughters were my entire reason for breathing, but they were drainingespecially Mandy, my profoundly gifted firstborn who was only five but required education plans galore. Then there was Allison, my sweet baby, two years old and demanding of my attention. Both tested my strength and resilience as a mother, even as I reveled in their blossoming into incredible individuals. Motherhood humbled me. The mind-boggling intellectual debates with my oldest and the needs of my youngest had me in a state of enchantment and constant disarray. When my friends suggested this trip, Daniel supported it immediately. I knew he worried that I was in a prolonged depressive episode, and we both hoped this would be the remedy.

My two best friends and I had initially planned to go to Portland, Oregon. Jenny is the outrageous one, a bold optimist, and Sara is my calm, quiet rock. I wasnt keen on going anywhere, but I was happy to be with my best friends for a few days. This trip came about as a result of one of my episodes. This recent one had lasted almost a year.

I had been depressed and detached from everyone around meexcept Jenny and Sara, whom I relied on for comfort. Jenny supported me from hundreds of miles away in Los Angeles. Sara lived in Georgetown, about an hour from where I lived in Lexington, Kentucky. We met less often these days, with the demands of the daily grind, and our phone calls became my lifeline. There was no telling where this episode came from. Perhaps it was the stress of raising children or the strain I put on my marriage, pushing Daniel away as he tried to convince me of my worth. Perhaps it was simply biological. It was Jenny who assured me, A trip is just what you need. Just get away from everything for a bit and recharge.

Though Jenny and Sara didnt know each other well, the time all of us had spent planning brought them closer together. When we settled on Sedona, everything fell into place. We were all drawn to the mystical vortex, the sound healing, and all the quirky things Sedona is known for.

I was nervous. This was the kind of situation in my life where anxiety took over. This time it was about not having Daniel by my side to take care of things. Arriving at the Phoenix Airport in Arizona made me realize how much I had leaned on him through the struggles with my mental state, and also how much I depended on him, which allowed my mind to go on autopilot.

For this trip, my two friends were more than happy to take charge. I know autopilot to be my defense mechanism, taking over my body as if Ive been evacuated to survive the experience. They understood this, and therefore were the best travel companions.

I made it from the arrival hall to the rental car counter to the car with no recollection of our progress. The racing in my brain intensified as the discomfort of being without Daniel grew. Once inside our car, however, my friends made it their mission to make me laugh, and they were successful. I was laughing so hard that my face hurt. Id always wanted to get a trucker to pull the horn. We passed by a few, and I pulled at the invisible cable above my head. They were not amused. One stared at me with a worn face, and he may as well have flipped me the bird. But nothing could dispel my upbeat spirit, and I had a wide grin the whole way to our Airbnb.

Once we got off the highway, I saw a serene blue. Against the desert and the red sand, the sky was an incredible shade of the deepest aqua. I took a deep breath to bring the thoroughbreds in my brain to a slow trot. I looked out at the beautiful cacti and bushes that seemed to have grown in perfect alternation. This was a far cry from the rich green rain forests of Malaysia, my home country. A lot of field trips in my childhood were filled with hiking the oldest rain forests in the world. The smell of the mud, and the beautiful, lush green brush under the massive canopy was fresh in my mind. I missed home more than I ever thought I would. Id been gone for nine years, and though I knew Id never live in Malaysia again, I felt like it was awaiting my return. Id left because Id wanted to. In many ways, I had to. Daniel provided me an opportunity for escape, to get far away from mistakes Id made almost twenty years earlier that still haunted me.