Imagine waking up one day different. You can’t explain it, but something just isn’t right. One minute you’re happy and the next sad. One moment you’re loving and the next angry. The voices you hear, the different moods you experience and the sad looks in people’s eyes makes you wonder if you’re losing your mind.
For Savannah Graft, she’s been dealt some heavy blows in her lifetime, but has managed to overcome them. Now, happily married to her husband, Pastor Shane Graft, mother to Kennedi and Baby Shane, First Lady of Victory Temple and the owner of SG Graphics; life is good.
Until one morning, she woke up different. She isn’t herself, yet she can’t see it. She recognizes something is wrong, but she can’t explain it. All she knows and continually says, I’m not crazy. Truthfully, she isn’t she’s depressed.
In this book, we begin a conversation to peel back the layers of postpartum depression, in the home and in the church. Although this is a work of fiction, every day somebody is dealing with the effects of mental illness and depression. In the church they tell you to pray and fast more. In the world, people say you’ll be okay, but how do they know.
Read Savannah’s story to see if she finally admits to needing help or will she continually hide from fear of herself, judgment or ridicule.
Targeted Age Group:: 18+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
This book deals with depression and mental illness with the church. As an ordained minister, I realize this is one of the many conversations not being had. Especially as it relates to women. This book begins that conversation. It’s letting women and men know they don’t have to suffer in silence because having depression and mental illness doesn’t make you crazy.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Believe it or not, coming up with character names are the hardest part for me. This book started out as a short story, in my reading group, so their names were already established. Great thing for me, their names and personalities fit within the storyline. All I had to do was write.
“As in suicide?”
“Yes. Have you ever thought about hurting yourself Savannah?” Dr. Mitchell asks.
I nod, wiping the tears.
“Have you tried?”
I shake my head no. “I couldn’t do that to my family, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts,” I pause. “One night, a few days after having SJ, Shane was gone. I knew he’d be late because he was preaching at a church two hours away. I was in the kitchen and a knife was on the counter. The enemy told me to stab myself because I didn’t deserve the family God had given me. He said my children were too young to remember me and Shane would remarry. I tried to fight him off, even called him a liar but his voice kept getting stronger. I picked up the knife, pressed it to my stomach and almost plunged it in.”
“What stopped you?”
“Kennedi,” I wipe the tears, “she called my name. You know the worst part?”
“I became angry at her for stopping me.” There’s silence as I catch the falling tears. “I’m not crazy, Dr. Mitchell.”
— Savannah, I’m Not Crazy
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