To (M)others from the Hood

By Shannon McGuire

For Mothers and Others

Your life is unique, but we bet you can relate to Shannon's story. You might not have grown up in South Central LA during the crack epidemic and riots. You might not have lost your little brother to a tragic accident when you were nine years old. You might not have started AdultHood as a teen mom on welfare. But your experiences have likely left you with some of the same problematic patterns and challenges Shannon had to overcome.

Do you make decisions based on fear, uncertainty, chaos, or division? (Yes, that spells FUCD.)

Do you find yourself worrying about worst-case outcomes?

Do you ever feel like others are holding you back?

If you're nodding your head right now, then you're in VictimHood—and that's a tough place to be. Shannon spent plenty of time there herself, and it took her many years and a lot of self-exploration and hard work to leave it behind. And she wants to share the how with you.

In this book, Shannon gives you the tools that have worked for her and shows you that everything you need to live a joyful life is already inside you. She invites you to learn from her experiences, gain from her growth, and join her on her Conqueror's Journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958964019

Book preview

Intro: Real is the New Real

According to popular opinion, I should be poor and struggling, addicted to drugs, residing in jail, have three baby daddies, or resting in the cemeteryi. If I had continued to succumb to what most studies have indicated, I would have been trapped in poverty and prevented from achieving my biggest dream—creating a stable, safe, loving home for myself and my family. Thankfully, I’ve conquered that story line and proved the data wrong.

Most people I meet didn’t have an upbringing or start to MotherHood like I did. Once they find out where I grew up and the challenges I faced, they are fascinated with how things turned out for me. I’m labeled a success because I got out of poverty and achieved the American dream.

My definition of success is a bit different. For me success means feeling good about being myself. I believe this is the ultimate secret to a fulfilled life—having curated this definition over thirty long years of deep work and spiritual evolution. Feeling good about being me means I

•love and accept myself, flaws and all—while committing to being better;

•live in accordance with my values and principles;

•show up for others without judgment or assumptions;

•embrace my voice by asking questions and expressing my thoughts, feelings, and insights;

•walk daily with a heart full of grace and mindful consideration to make meaningful decisions;

•dance to the beat of my own drum (typically an 808);

•reflect on my life experiences while having deep serenity and acceptance of what was and is;

•conquer life’s adversities using the power of unity to bridge divides; and

•am powered by a Source that is more loving, compassionate, and kind than I can ever be individually.

Looking at the hard knocks, tough places, and challenging issues I’ve faced in my four decades on this planet, I’m grateful and proud of the life my husband and I have built for our kids and future loved ones. I don’t know much about my family history, but the little I do know showcases generations of struggle, tribulation, and strife. As a first-generation college graduate, homeowner, entrepreneur, and trauma conqueror, I have set a path to success that I hope becomes the norm for my lineage.

When my parents told me to do better than they did, I thought it meant getting my kids far away from where and how I grew up. The violence. The gangs. The poverty. It took me becoming a mom and defining my destiny to comprehend what doing better meant. It was more than a change of environment and residence. It was more than money and material things. To give my kids a better life, I had to break the chains of the programs, scripts, beliefs, and behaviors that held my family back. I had to acknowledge, comprehend, and heal the parts of me that were broken. The parts I locked away. The traumas that were passed down in our family—generation after generation. I had to unshackle from the VictimHood mentality.

There’s No Hood like VictimHood

Full disclosure. I believe the hardest and most difficult Hood humans will ever face is VictimHood. This conclusion comes after living in and experiencing different versions of Hoods throughout my lifetime. I’ve had lots of thoughtful consideration since dealing with my own adversities and helping others navigate theirs. VictimHood is my toughest challenge. It’s a battle that never stops. A war I’m out to win.

When I say VictimHood, I mean living in a constant cycle of suffering while blaming others for your circumstances. VictimHood is a state of mind and a way of being. It’s like a bad habit you didn’t know you had. Like an addiction you can’t stop. It’s where I live when things don’t go my way. It’s a dark and crappy place—like a funky-ass sewer filled with shit I can’t smell or see. It’s a slow-release poison that kills my dreams, relationships, and joy. It’s a noun, adjective, and metaphor for being stuck in an unhelpful narrative.

VictimHood shifts my perception toward a fear-based perspective. I become hesitant to make decisions, and insecurity flares within me. My mind becomes a toxic mixture of emotional chaos, and I unknowingly create a false detachment from my power. Then I’m left feeling like I have no control, choice, or say in my life. My default worldview switches to FUCD mode—where I exude fear, uncertainty, chaos, and division-centric behaviors toward others. The result is a story loop that produces an inability to achieve my dreams. The emotional pain I feel from other people’s actions keeps me trapped in a useless rerun. All because things didn’t go my way.

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of cruel, evil, despicable things that happen to people every day. Bad things happen to good folks. I am proof of that myself. I’ve been jumped and beaten up. I’ve been scammed and stolen from. I’ve been teased and bullied. I’ve been lied to and left out. I’ve been mislabeled and scapegoated. I’ve been rejected and hurt. I’ve been a victim—someone whose rights were violated against their consent.

Victims don’t choose the bad things that happen to them. Being victimized is not okay. But these situations don’t permanently take my power away. I don’t have to give it away either. For me, power means I have the ability to make decisions for myself (and sometimes others). It means beyond having options, I can make decisions that impact not only me, but others under my guidance and leadership. It means I get to decide. The tricky part is determining what I’m deciding on. Sometimes it’s a material object; other times it’s a goal, strategy, or challenge. Oftentimes it’s my feelings, beliefs, and stories about myself, other people, or why an event is happening.

When I’m in VictimHood, I blame my unwanted outcomes on other people having power over me. If I didn’t get what I wanted, it was someone or something else that caused my emotional pain. In return, I cry, complain, dismiss, hurt, ignore, run, or fight to get what I want. I become fueled by vengeance and direct my negative feelings toward others. Sometimes attacking until they submit under the strain of my emotional onslaught—which usually activates their own VictimHood response. The negative energy continues to spread like a virus and infects those closest to me.

VictimHood is extremely toxic to well-being. That’s why as a conqueror, I won’t stay in VictimHood once I recognize it. I choose to reclaim my story and redirect my behaviors. I focus my energy on creating my destiny and making my dreams come true. And most importantly, as long as there is breath in my body, I am powered by a Source that is loving, wise, and compassionate— attributes I extend to those around me.

I choose to walk with courage and confidence in knowing there’s always a bigger story unfolding. I never really saw my tale as exceptional. Frankly, it was because I didn’t take the time to deeply explore and reconcile my past. It was behind me—hindsight best left in the memories of yesteryear. Little did I know that it would come back to bite my ass like a starved mosquito on a late summer evening.

Recognizing what I believed about my own story was the key to unlocking the shackles of my tragedies. When I kept reciting the negative narratives about people and events that held me back or down, they cemented in my consciousness and became my repeating, lived experience. When I revisited older versions of myself, I saw I suffered most when I was in VictimHood. It was always there that my emotions and thoughts spiraled out of control. The negative worldview left me in a bad way because I didn’t know how to process what had happened to me—or what was happening to me—because I was too worried about what could happen to me. My mind became a tornado of stories, songs, and sayings that filled my head, spun me out, and dropped me in the sewer. Then my view of life looked like crap.

A Culture of FADSS

Research has proven that humans’ perception of reality drives what shows up in their material worldii. What we believe is reinforced through our daily behaviors and habits. What we believe becomes true in our world. So—in order to get the news we’re getting, the stories we are hearing, the experiences we are facing—what do we individually believe to be true about our world?

Consider how often we are filled with the opinions and programming of a coward-driven and VictimHood-centered reality. Our screens and media sources showcase negative stories, creating a culture of FADSS—fear, anger, disgust, sadness, and schadenfreude (deriving joy off another’s misery). Through social media, we fill our minds with nonsensical information about the lives of others—be it celebrities, politicians, or coworkers. This constant, fearful push has created a world full of heroes, villains, victims, and spectators who see the world as a terrible place they must survive until death.

The narrative is about how they are doing us wrong by taking our power and disrespecting, belittling, and making it harder for us. Chants of they owe us ring loudly and are synonymous with I can’t because they won’t. Societal opinion has infiltrated our world so fiercely that anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges are growing by the day.

Somewhere along the path of life, we have forgotten who we are, where we’re from, why we’re on this planet, and what we truly want. We started turning people with counter beliefs into the villains of our VictimHood story. We’ve made the hurtful things that happen to other people our source of laughter. We spend more time watching death, violence, and drama than defining who we are beyond titles, roles, and material things. We know more about movies, shows, and celebrities than we do about our own family. We talk crap about the people in our lives to others and hope those people don’t talk to each other about us. That’s the toxicity of VictimHood.

And what’s even more of a head-scratcher is that we humans don’t want to talk about how these behaviors are breeding more VictimHood dwellers. We don’t want to admit we may be in VictimHood and subject to spiritual, emotional, and mental challenges because of it. We don’t want to hear the words spiritual, emotional, and mental—or even God. Something odd happens when these topics come up.

Use the words spiritual or God and some people freak out. They think about their religious or nonreligious perspectives and judge the messenger based on their own negative experiences. You can’t dare say God in the professional setting because work is separate from life—although we can talk about race, sex, gender, sexual orientation, politics, abortion, private parts, and death.

Pop culture, yes. God, no.

Which is interesting considering that what we believe about God, Source, Creator, Creation, the Almighty—pick your descriptor—serves as the foundational belief system that rules our moral compass. That’s deep stuff.

Talk about emotions, mental illness, mental health, or mental well-being, and some folks get itchy bottoms and are ready to flee. Mental is a turnoff, and people don’t want to go there with each other. Um—isn’t this the problem? The stigmas. The assumptions. The judgments. The misunderstandings and discomforts are prohibiting real discussion about the mental challenges we are facing. To create a better world, we must stop limiting conversation about this, and it starts with us as individuals. We must destigmatize the healing process and acknowledge not everyone approaches it in the same way. Lord knows I didn’t.

Say unity and some people’s automatic reaction focuses on arms-length division. They’ll say, "I’m not going to be friends with those people. They are batshit crazy, and I refuse to lower my standards and change my beliefs to deal with them in any way, shape, or form."

Well—if that’s the case, then how will we bridge the divides that are causing humanity pain and suffering? How will we co-create a better world if people aren’t willing to meet halfway? Could it be that these objections are signs of people living in VictimHood?

Conquering the FUCD Mindset

Big stuff is happening in our world, and life has been hard for humanity lately. It seems like every time we turn on the news, there’s some kind of crisis underway. Some drama being played out. Somebody being canceled. Some huge, life-threatening challenge to overcome. By the end of the day, our batteries are working on less than 20 percent. My goal is to help you change that by relearning how to conquer the forces out there that are actively working to drain you.

Yep, you read that right. There are forces out there that aim to take your joy, power, and energy from you. There’s strong competition for your belief system that shows up as a battle for your attention, intention, purpose, and ultimately your story. In my view, it comes down to choosing recharge versus drain. Pleasure versus pain. Good versus evil. God versus devil. While simple to say, it’s not always easy to do. It requires consistent effort.

A wonderful thing started to happen when I asked myself, What if I act on my highest excitement and do the things that bring me joy? What’s the worst that could happen if I said yes to myself? What am I most afraid of? What’s giving me pause? Where is hesitation coming from? What if I already have everything I need at this moment? What if it’s not them but it’s the stories I tell myself? What if all the power I ever needed to move forward is already inside of me?

Those questions allowed me to stop holding onto outdated beliefs that caused me pain. I learned to change my definitions of key words like joy, power, faith, family, wealth, mom, God, and unity to reclaim my identity and destiny. I learned how to escape VictimHood. I learned that I have the power and ability to change my life trajectory at any moment. While there will be situations and challenges on the road—like all humans face—I can still knock out the obstacles and prevail.

The FUCD life is not for me. I won’t take on societal beliefs as my own personal values if they don’t align with my life philosophy. My story is my own and not a testament for any tactics that advance division and negative intent. I’m an expert in me, and no one can ever convince me what to believe about my identity and destiny. It’s all in my hands. I am a conqueror.

So, I began to ask, what might happen if we had a world filled with more people with a Conqueror’s Mindset—built on positive reflection, hope, optimism, and joy? On love and kindness, rather than fear, lack, deficit, or despair? Mindsets that healthfully flip adversity to advantage, tragedy to triumph, and tribulation to jubilation. When I anchor my home and workplace to the Conqueror’s Mindset, I co-create life experiences based on unconditional love, trust, acceptance, compassion, forgiveness, and a deep gratitude for life. No matter how adverse things might seem, I find a way through them.

I’ve come to realize that when people feel good about being themselves, when they’ve become a conqueror, the world is a much better place. The power of sharing our personal stories is what helps us heal. That’s why you have this book in your hands.

My past is someone’s present and my present is someone’s future.

Part One: My Origins

Growing Up in Fear, Uncertainty, Chaos, and Division

Chapter 1: Veteran of Community War

The brightness of red and blue lit up the living room in an almost magical way. My attention was captivated by the shadows dancing on the wall behind me as they waltzed across the room, while the bold colors served as their backdrop.

No! a woman screamed, breaking my trance.

Crawling over to the window, I peered through our bar-covered glass and saw police cars parked in front of our house. Before they arrived, there had been yelling, screaming, and then gunshots outside. My mom shouted for us to get down and away from the window. Curiosity got the better of me, and I snuck into the living room to see what was happening.

The Ghetto Bird flew around the NeighborHood, and the rumble vibrated through our house. The spotlight shakily concentrated on the scene outside, lighting up the street like a stage. There were so many people that it made it hard to see what was going on. I stayed at the window waiting to get a glimpse of what they were huddled around. What is happening? What are they looking at? After what felt like hours, the crowd started to disperse as a man rolled a gurney away with a black body bag.

A woman was screaming, frantically clawing at the officers holding her back. My baby—that’s my baby! she screamed over and over. She tried like hell to make her way to the gurney. Pushing at strangers and wildly swinging her arms at anyone who got within her range. Just let me hold him, please! she wailed. I want my baby! The terror and agony in her cries broke my heart. Death had taken her child.

* * * * * * *

My earliest memories of growing up in South Central Los Angeles during the eighties and nineties are intense. We were plagued with an explosion of gang violence, record-breaking homicides, the crack epidemic, riots, earthquakes, and many other chaotic events. This was perhaps the most tumultuous time in the city’s history.

Gangs owned our streets and marked their territory with graffiti and signature colors. Drug dealers and hustlers hung out at liquor stores and on corner spots selling weed, crack, and stolen goods. Guns served as an extension of the hand and were often used to settle disputes.

It was common to see crack houses filled with addicts numbing themselves from the pain of life. Run-down and condemned buildings connected to urine-soaked alleys that served as junkyards. These portals of death were full of discarded furniture, trash, crack pipes, needles, empty liquor bottles, dead animals, and vagrants.

My parents were blue-collar workers and barely made enough to make ends meet.