Tag Archive | Depression

New Moon Free Write

I’ve been trying to get myself together for the last 6 months. Actively trying to be mindful of the consequences of my actions. It’s hard as fuck. Because, at least for me, when I’m intentional, it’s much harder to complain about the outcome. I like complaining. It’s kind of my thing. 

That’s not really what this post is about. It’s more about how hard this is for me. How I feel like I’m taking 3 steps forward and 7 steps back. It feels like when 1 thing is working, the other 168907 are not. I decided in June I was going to have weight loss surgery, only to have my company not allow us to do it with their insurance. 

I have finally gotten to the point where I want to do something permanently about my weight, as well as acknowledged that I can’t do it alone, and It was like that world was yelling at me, SIKE! GOTCHA BITCH! So now, I have to do something different. 

That seems to be the theme of 2016 for me: Do Something Different. And I’m trying, Lord knows I’m trying. But again this shit is HARD AS FUCK. Depression is a real thing for me. Therapy helps, I won’t deny that. But thanks to my high ass deductible, I can only do it 2x a month. I need like daily therapy sessions at this point in my life. 

I’m still angry. On June 2nd, when I thought my anger was going to kill me, I said okay girl, talk to somebody. And he’s great. But he’s not there at the local Fry’s at 10pm when I discover some asshole adult has taken wooden letters and spelled out KKK in the craft section on every shelf. He’s not there when I’m trying to not yell at random assholes with Trump stickers on their cars. 

This shit is HARD AS FUCK! By this shit, I mean life. It’s kicking my ass this year. Not to say that it’s been all bad, cuz it hasn’t.  But that’s not the hard part. The good stuff is easy. 

The hard part makes you feel like God doesn’t listen to you. Or maybe he’s just mad at you cuz you happen to be in love with someone you shouldn’t be. Or maybe God doesn’t care cuz there are people in Aleppo with a much harder life than you right now.  So stop being a selfish whiny bitch and deal with your shit. Cuz it could be worse. But this shit is HARD AS FUCK right now. 

So yeah….that’s where I’ve been for the last 2 weeks. Just needed to get all that off my chest. I’m better now, I think. 

These are My Confessions Part 3: Open Windows

I chose my Therapist. Purposefully. He had worked with a former client of mine, and he struck me during our interactions as a smart man. Who understood the dichotomy of being black in Tucson, and how it would affect a child in the foster care system. 

So when I made the decision to seek out some profeasional help, I called him first. I crossed my fingers, and hoped he was accepting new patients. I know it was God that opened up that spot, cuz the day before I called him he had closed out a case. 

Today, was the first time I laughed and smiled during a session. Last week was 30 minutes of tears, because the world is so scary. But today, I laughed so loud and long. Because I’m figuring shit out, finally. My emotions are no longer taking over my rational mind. Which is beautiful. 

I laughed because he is so quick to call me on my shit. Sometimes he can just do it with a look. He doesn’t allow me to be ashamed of anything, he makes me address shit. I’ve been living in survival mode for so long, I’d forgotten how good mental clarity felt. 

Today, I smiled and laughed and talked about my feelings without fear. I caught myself speaking some truth I wasn’t expecting. I’m changing the way I interact with people. I’m letting people in, and it doesn’t terrify me….as much. It’s progress. 

Therapy is frequently my favorite part of the week. For an hour, it’s all about me unpacking my life. It’s dedicated time each week to do the work. Part of me still thinks it’s hella selfish. That I could be spending that money on something else. But that’s a VERY small part of me. Because I’m finally starting to see the results of the work. 

Confession #3: I leave windows open for those people I’m hoping will come back into my life. 

I don’t usually announce I’m leaving the window open, but it’s there. Cuz I’m quick to block people I no longer want to have access to my life. Be it via Social Media, or by blocking their phone number and/or email addresses. When I’m done, I’m done. 

My laughter in today’s session came from the realization that I blocked my family on social media….but I didn’t block the Unicorn. Cuz I’m hoping he comes back. I’m not done with that yet. I’m not done with him yet.  Do I want to just tell him off, or am I hoping there is another chance somewhere in there? I don’t know. I know, up until he started liking my pics on Instagram recently, he wasn’t on my radar. But I hadn’t denied him access, I just took away MY access to him. 

Truth be told, he hurt my feelings. Deeply. Until I get to say that to his face, I’m going to always feel a way. And that’s okay. Maybe next week, I’ll unpack that a little bit more. But I’m still smiling, cuz everything for a reason and in its own time.  

These are my Confessions Part 2

I think, I’ve only been in love 3 times. I’m not talking about bullshit crushes or infatuation. But genuine love, the kind that makes for a beautiful relationship if nurtured correctly. 

#1 is and will always be my first love/soul mate. We literally grew up together. We argue, and fall out, and Hate each other frequently. But he has a piece of me forever. 

#2 is The One That Got Away. We speak very infrequently, maybe once or twice a year. It was easy to forget WHY I fell for him in the first place. But that love is still there. Just under the surface every time we talk.

#3 broke my heart, and to cope, I stopped feeling things. Most emotions are non-existent for me, and have been for the last 4 years. It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part, but I’ve noticed it and commented on it a few times in the past. 

There was a time when being emotionally numb kept me from losing my shit on an hourly basis. My mind created this block to save me from myself. I understand that. I’ve felt safe in the numbness for these past few years. I had a whole ass 9 month long relationship, and not one feeling was exchanged. Not any real ones anyway. I was actually able to fake a relationship. 

But…. for a brief moment today, I felt something. And it scared the fuck outta me, and I relished the feeling all at the same time. I was smiling, and my heart did that flutter thing it does when you get excited about a guy {is that just me?}

It was of course, one of those 3 people I mentioned before. Because I can feel a myriad of emotions for people in my past. I can bring up those feelings and those moments with ease. I can bask in the safety those moments (good and bad) bring me, without any real fear of the outcome. Because those are MY memories. 

I don’t have to share them with anyone, even if those memories involve another person. But making NEW memories, extending myself and investing an emotion in someone new….impossible for me. 

And even as I see this happening, I’m unable to force my brain, mind, heart, soul, or whatever controls my emotional muscles, to push (it)themselves past what they already know.  

He made me smile today, just because he thought of me, and had to call.  My heart jumped, and I was short of breath as I picked up the phone. And I felt the love that has always been there, that I’d had forgotten was still there. 

And my first reaction, was to call him back after our conversation ended, and say I need a break from these feels. We can’t talk for a while, because I don’t like this feeling. Not at all. I can’t feel anything real for you, I don’t do that anymore. 

My Confession: I’m really worried I’ll never love anyone again. I’m worried I won’t even try to find it, all because losing it might just take me all the way out. 

These are my Confessions…. Part I

The last 6 months…..So much. But that blog will be written another day. It’s important to acknowledge that as a result of the last 6 months, I’m now in Therapy. Like legit therapy. Like charges $150 a session and ObamaCare only gives me an $80 a session discount type therapy. Shits real in These Here Streets. 

It’s important to know I’m in therapy not to…ask for sympathy but to instead explain my need to write this blog tonight. Part of my sessions have been about me NOT letting people know:

  1. What’s going on in my life…
  2. How I feel about the things that are going on in my life…
  3. How the things in my life have and are currently affecting me. 

So this is my way of expressing my…stuff right now.  This isn’t going to be a weekly blog or a daily blog or anything like that. But it will serve as my releasing of certain emotional/mental/spiritual”Bricks”that have been holding me down for quite some time. 

1) My main motivator in life, other than a need to just be awesome, is male approval. 

Let’s call it “Daddy Issues+.” I’ve known this since I was about 14, and I’ve been ashamed of it since then. Today, I decided to embrace it. Here’s why: 

  • As long as I’m making choices/decision that will positively affect my life, who cares what my motivation is?!?!
  • Feelings are not facts. Just because I’m judging myself for it, doesn’t mean the world is.

Today I went on an accidental 1.5 mile hike.  I say accidental because the original intention was just to walk to the end of my street. I didn’t know that was .7 miles UPHILL. My thighs are KILLING me.  I went on this walk, because someone male commented on the firmness of my calves. I mentioned the fact that I live in a house now with stairs, and I walk a lot more. “It looks good on you ūüėČ” = Male Approval —-> Me talking a long ass walk, around my block, before dark. 

Does walking make my life better, yes. Will it help with this depression that’s always lurking, yes. Do I need to exercise more consistently, yes. So even tho I was motivated by the thought, “Wait until the next time he sees me!” I did something I need to do and is a good choice. 

So I’m releasing that shame today. Sending it out into the cosmos, never to rest or reside in me again. And I’m proud of myself for being able to do that. 

Truth Is . . . . I’m Tired

I used to tell everyone what was going on with me. ¬†My Facebook used to be a minute by minute detailing of every emotion, action, and life event. ¬†I didn’t expect people to wonder where I was, I told them . . .often.

Slowly, I’ve become the opposite. ¬†With every Black Child/Man/Woman who has been killed at the hands of the “authorities,” I’ve slowly shut down. I’ve kept my problems to myself, because they seem quite trivial in the face of Systematic Racism and Murder. ¬†No one told me to stop talking, I just don’t.

With every new hashtag, and every¬†new addition to the “Dangerous to do While Black” list, I’ve become more and more reclusive. ¬†I seem to have collapsed inside myself, and I’m not even sure if I want to come out at this point. ¬†It’s hard at this point, when every single time I open my FB or my Twitter, I’m seeing pictures of people being killed by police, or videos of the aftermath of someone being killed. ¬†Or watching a press conference where a family member breaks down.

Black Pain has become fodder for all to consume.  Even when you try to ignore it, someone is tagging you in a post, or sending you a link.  I tried to escape to Instagram today, and all the Black Celebs that were a day late, and several dollars were posting the videos, or even still pics of crime scenes.  That shit HURTS.  It causes my body to cease up in pain, because I feel every bullet.  I can feel the pain of every mother crying out for their lost child.

This . . . situation . . . has been weighing on me since the Trayvon Martin Trial (We don’t say his killer’s name). I thought about all the children I’ve taught, and the smiles on their faces, and just felt lost.¬†Because I can’t save them. ¬†I can’t hold them close, and make sure they are going to live forever. ¬†I can’t even guarantee that a trip to the pool won’t end in abuse. ¬†I can’t tell them walking to the store won’t end their death. ¬†My crew is driving now, I can’t guarantee they won’t get pulled over and killed during a “routine” traffic stop.

That existence, the fact that I live in a world where this is the Norm, TERRIFIES me. ¬†Since my seizure, my emotions have started to work differently. ¬†I don’t understand them. ¬†In addition to that, and I know this sounds crazy, I’ve been having prophetic dreams. ¬†Nothing normal like, “so and so is pregnant,” or “you should play these numbers tomorrow.” ¬†No, I wake up in tears, trying to stop screams from escaping my mouth so my mom doesn’t hear me.

On ¬†the morning of June 12th, I had the¬†scariest dream to date. ¬†My mom and I had gone to a club to see someone perform, and we were having a great time. ¬†All of a sudden people were running and screaming, “There is an Arabic Guy coming to kill us!” We guided everyone into the bathroom, and we were all huddled in one stall. ¬†As he walked in the bathroom, I turned to my mom and told her I loved her, because I knew we were going to die. ¬†Then I woke up.

I checked my phone to see news of the Pulse nightclub shooting. ¬†I haven’t been right since. ¬†Because, What the FUCK?!?! If that’s a Gift from God, I’m not sure how he expects me to use it. ¬†Since that dream, I’ve only been able to¬†remember parts of. ¬†But I’m still afraid of where my mind will take me some nights. This World . . . This World is stressing me OUT.

I haven’t even talked about what’s been going on in my LIFE this year. ¬†I probably won’t. Because my burdens are small compared to those of others. ¬†Problems have come up, I’ve solved them, the best way I know how. ¬†Maybe, when I’m famous, I’ll talk about how my life changed in 2016. ¬†‘Cuz it surely has.

This post is all over the place. It’s not very coherent (in my opinion). But I promised my Therapist (yes, I have one of those now) I would take at least 15 minutes to write. And I try to keep my promises, especially when they are basically homework toward healing.

Why Hello Depression . . . You weren’t Missed at All.

It’s hard to explain to people how your attitude can change with a look, or the lack of one. ¬†I started out this morning on a good note. ¬†I was happy, and I had just received some great news. ¬†I haven’t had another seizure, and I might actually be losing weight. ¬†There is no reason for me to be on the verge of tears. And yet, I am.

Something as stupid as not receiving an email, made me feel stupid and ostracized and unwanted. I feel unvalued, and unimportant. ¬†I feel less than. ¬†And that’s a slippery slope. ¬†Because usually, the way I deal with that is reaching out to someone to make me feel special. Usually, the best way to do that is sexually, or eating. Both of them, at one time or another, were my go-to methods of self-help.

I’m sitting on my* porch, and trying to figure out why I’m in this place again. ¬†The only real trigger is the fact that I walked into a chapter meeting, and I didn’t get the “Wear Black, we are taking chapter pictures,” email. I looked unprofessional, and unprepared. ¬†I felt stupid. ¬†And how VAIN is that. ¬†That was my trigger, not looking perfect.

This seizure has changed so much of my life. ¬†More than I can even speak on at the moment. But not having the control of my own space, my own transportation, my own schedule has been such a struggle for me. ¬†I’m used to only having to rely on me to get things done. ¬†I’m starting to feel the pressure of depending on others.

And it’s not even pressure from the outside. ¬†It’s me telling myself you have to do and be all the things. ¬†You can’t be weak. ¬†People are expecting you to fail, get it together. And I can’t. It seems like around every corner is yet another obstacle getting in my way. My emotions are out of control almost all the time. ¬†I miss my friends. I hate when people talk to me in my free time. I’m going to make people hate me soon, just so that I can have some peace in my life.

I’ve been in Arizona for 7+ years. ¬†This is home to me. But I MISS MY FRIENDS. I miss the ability to go see someone whenever I want to. ¬†I’m trying to navigate new relationships, and I don’t know where I stand in them. ¬†I don’t know what I want, and at the same time, trying to figure out if I still believe in the word Hope. I’m miserable when I get free time. ¬†I hate thinking, I hate my idle mind. ¬†I want quiet ¬†. . . with someone else there.

Nothing I’m currently thinking makes any sense. ¬†That’s what my depression looks like. ¬†One bad day, followed by several good ones. ¬†Pushing everything down, because I have to work. ¬†People are counting on me, get it together. ¬†But that one day . . . it hits when I don’t have something in front of me to distract me from my inner voice. ¬†That voice used to be my mom. ¬†It kept me motivated. ¬†That voice has become my own, and I’m sad. I can’t seem to find the words to get out of these funks.

I need my support system here, in Arizona. ¬†I need A support system in Arizona. The only person who has had my back my whole life is my mother, and I just . . . she’s getting older. She’s spent my entire life having my back, and I should be working on having hers. And I’m not, because I’m in this place. The place that won’t allow me to let go and have faith. This place that makes me sad, and attitudinal and RUDE to her. Because I’m so afraid of losing her. I don’t know what my life would be without her here. And I’m so afraid, this fear is nothing i’ve ever felt before. I just watched my siblings have to say goodbye to their mother, and I’m so AFRAID.

Maybe that’s the base of my whatever the hell this is. ¬†That every day, I’m looking at my mom, and realizing how blessed I am having her in my life. Maybe that’s it.

Whatever the hell it is, I’m not in the right place. And it’s easier to write that here, and share it with strangers, than ask my friends for help. It’s easier to post this, and pretend it’s just another blog post, and not a cry for ¬†. . . something. ¬†Not help, because I’m tired of needing help from people. I can post this here, and be selfish enough to be this emo, and not interrupt people’s lives crying and being sad. This depression thing, it comes in waves. ¬†It hasn’t crashed down on me, yet. ¬†I’m not drowning, yet. ¬†But I’m soaked right now.

Underneath Your Clothes…

In conjunction with No Shame Day (part of Mental Health Awareness Month) ,¬† I’m going to share my secret shame.

I’m not comfortable in my own skin.

Since the day someone told me I was ugly, I’ve wanted to make sure know one knew how ugly I was. I wasn’t always this way. Until I was 7, I thought I was a white girl.¬† Not I acted like one,¬† but I actually thought I was white. I imagined that I looked just like all my friends. I went to private schools in my youth,¬† and spent my summers in Tucson,¬† AZ. So my peers were mostly blond haired and blue eyed.

One day,¬† while at my mother’s hair dressers house, her kids were picking on me as usual. Her youngest daughter said to me, “How does it feel to be that ugly and dark? You must not ever look in the mirror cuz if you did it would break.”

For the first time in my life,¬† I looked in a mirror and hated what I saw. Sadly,¬† that wasn’t the last time.

Fast forward to the year 2012. I fell in love with my best friend,¬† who said we would never be together because of my weight. He was a petite Mexican,¬† and he said I wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. I didn’t understand what he meant.. ..until I saw him dance. Then everything made sense. I couldn’t keep up with him at 378lbs. So I decided to lose weight.

I struggled for a long time before I began the weight loss process. Because part of me knew I was worth being with at that moment. Part of me felt like he should accept me as I was, and help me get to where I wanted to be.¬† Many people in my life didn’t agree with my choice to lose weight ‘for a man.’ But it was a choice I made because his acceptance,¬† his acknowledgment of me was that important to me.

I have self diagnosed for years. With the help of Nora Roberts books, and WebMD, I’ve suffered from hundreds of ailments.¬†¬† But I honestly¬† think I have Body Dismorphic Disorder. This means that what others see and what I see are two different things.

I’ve lost 50lbs so far, and 5 sizes. I don’t see the difference. Guys compliment me all the time,¬† and it confuses me. The question I ask is always, Why? Why are you seeing me now?¬† I’ve always been here. I’m not a new person.¬† So why is it that all of a sudden I’m visible to the world?¬†

I’ve always felt invisible in my life.

Except when I am around kids. Because even though they see my size they always look past it in like the first 5mins. Kids love you blindly. Based solely on how you treat them. They don’t care about your hair or your clothes or anything.

I think I spent so long hiding behind my weight, not having that shield anymore has really thrown me for a loop.¬† I’m¬† uncomfortable in public settings if someone approaches me.¬† Doesn’t matter if I have put on my cutest dress, and I know I’m cute, if a male approaches me, I’m automatically weirded out.

So today, at the beginning of Mental Health Awareness Month,¬† I’m going to acknowledge that losing weight hasn’t helped my self-esteem at all. I think its actually worse now. But I know its something I have to work on. So I’m going to.¬†

I wrote this while I was sitting on the recumbent bike. So that’s something, right?¬† I have 6 more months until I will feel like I’ve met my own goal. My weight has never been an issue,¬† the number anyway. Its always if my clothes look good. So if I get to a size 12, I’ll be great,¬† no matter what I weigh.

But I started this journey so that one person in my life would see me,¬† and I think at the end of it everyone will. I just have to get used to that. But I’m Not Ashamed of what started this journey in my life.¬† I kept going. After the first 10lbs,¬† after he and I didn’t work out, after the change I saw in other people. And I am still here!

I’m learning to take every situation apart, and adapt to this new thing, instead of react. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by beautiful people who brighten my days, and make even the most difficult situations survivable. We share our shame with each other. One confession at a time. And try to live everyday with NO SHAME.