I’ve been struggling to write this post for a month. Why? Well, because it’s personal; but that’s not the whole truth because I have shared many personal things on this blog. But it’s not my personal, it’s someone else’s story. Well, that’s not the whole truth either because it’s my story, too. What could be so hard to write about, especially for me when I pride myself on my ability to put.things.into.words? What could be so difficult for me to write about that I have been writing this post in my head for the past month? Even as I try to type, I feel anxious and even a little scared. Truly. Because sometimes, things can’t be written as truth. There is always something else just up under the surface, existing between the lines. In these spaces, we can see the truth more clearly, but to paraphrase a well known movie, “can we handle the truth?” Well, this time, it’s hard, but here goes…
For the longest time, I have known that there were several members of my family who existed in their own spaces. I don’t mean in that ethereal, existentialist space where one questions the state of being. I don’t mean a hippy, dippy, trippy space that’s all dandelions and sunflowers. I’m talking about alternate spaces rooted in pain and identity and chaos and…The truth is, is that several members of my family suffer from mental illness. I need to say that again. Several members of my family suffer from mental illness. That’s something to say, especially among Black folks. I don’t know why, but there is such a stigma surrounding mental illness. I mean, in every community there is some needless embarrassment around the topic, but for Black folks? Well, just chalk it up as another thing that keeps us down. Seriously. And the sad fact is that we don’t usually even validate mental illness as an illness. We consider it a weakness, some sort of deficit. We make excuses for the erratic behavior and may even joke about it: “Girl, you know such and such is a little off. He shouldn’t have (insert some unconnected activity).” Or “She’s just extra. She’s always trying to get some attention.” I know it because I’ve said those things, too. *hangs head* But now I know better and I’m telling you…it’s real.
I had to get this post out this month because May is Mental Health Awareness Month. And I have some personal reasons that this month is significant especially when it comes to issues of mental illness. Two years ago this month, my son’s high school music teacher committed suicide. (He had her for six years; as a music major, he saw her daily). Sadly, she had tried to kill herself several times throughout her life and had been unsuccessful (or perhaps, she had been successful at living?). Well, she had been falling apart just prior to that and many folks were trying to save her life. But she couldn’t be saved because she thought her salvation was on the other side. Their attempts to make her see her worth were pointless because for her, in her mind, she was unloveable, of little value. And so, armed with misinformation about her personhood, she hanged herself in a hotel room in the middle of the week (on my birthday, no less).
She didn’t see any way out and so she took her own life, but it really wasn’t hers to take. She belonged to the world and was so significant, but…she took her own life and we were left to pick up the pieces of her fractured existence. We asked why and why and why some more, but there were/are no answers. Looking at her life and her photo board at her wake, we could see where she started coming undone. Unstrung and unstable, she leaped from this world into the next, praying it would be easier (I think). But we know that she wasn’t in her clear mind. She was in the throes of her illness and no one could decode her need and speak to her in a way that would save her life. And so she leaped from this world into the next and my son, along with countless others grieved this brilliant, vivacious, creative, talented, gifted teacher. As my son delivered a heartfelt message at a school memorial service, I knew that mental illness was real.
And then this year, right before May came in good, one of my closest relatives tried to take their (it’s not proper grammar, but I’m trying to maintain some anonymity) own life. A cocktail of liquor and pills combined with fast moving traffic was almost lethal enough to end my relative’s life. *insert tears* This relative is like my own child and my heart broke in countless places at the thought of losing one of my heart’s children. Someone connected to me by blood. I knew that this person wrestled with demons new and old. In fact, this person had been diagnosed with a mental illness almost a decade prior and had been existing without any treatment.
But you know what? Self-medication is a monster. The many ways that this relative coped put their life at risk tenfold. But you know what? It didn’t even matter because they thought they were winning. Thought they had triumphed over the demons and silenced the voices in their head. But, guess what? That demon lay dormant and when it raged, bayyyyybeeee, it was a monster. It attached itself twentyfold and wreaked havoc on this relative’s mind, body and spirit. It spoke in foreign tongues, whispering in shadows and teasing with it’s just out of bounds behavior. And then it pounced…that demon rode my relative bareback into a kaleidoscope of confusion, fear and surrender. And then came the liquor, and the pills and the fast moving cars for my relative to play chicken with…But that day, the demon didn’t win…and so as this relative works to rebuild their life with medication and counseling, we will see if the demon can be held at bay.
So this is what propelled me to share this story with you. The thought of burying my relative sent me into a spiral of anger, fear, grief, sorrow and helplessness. What to do? What to do? And so I sit here and I write. I write in hope that we can each work towards saving someone’s life. When someone you love is going through a hard time and they just can’t shake their sadness, they might need intervention because they might have a mental illness. Not every time, but sometimes. And we can't take the risk of hoping they'll be fine, of wishing they'll get over it. We simply can't. And so we ask questions and offer comfort. We should encourage counseling and acceptance. We need to create a safe space where people can work out their own stuff without judgement. No harm, only healing. I don’t have any answers, but what I do know is that we need to make sure that we are open to whatever ails folks. We never know when or if we will be the ones in need. Peace.
Donny Hathaway "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" (I chose this Donny Hathaway track because he had a well documented history of mental illness)
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
It's My Birthday and...
I’m not gonna cry!! Listen, this day is all about celebration. It’s about me, myself and I. Like Virginia Slims, I have come a lonnnnnng way, baby. I don’t know if I came into this world kicking and screaming, but I know that I was definitely born to fight. I am battle ready, but you know what? I’m also love ready. As much as I am able to git.up.in.yo.stuff, I prefer the gentle treatment. I’m mostly smiles and gentle words because life is hard enough. Why do I need to make it any harder with donkey antics? I pride myself on my manners and hope that I will be able to maintain my grace for at least the next 38 years.
In these 38 years, I have seen some of the darkest spaces in human nature, but I prefer to focus on the beauty that surrounds me. Too often we allow ourselves to become burdened by the many unfair things that happened to us as children. I have decided that I am not responsible for the things I could not control and so I forgive those who have added to the pain in my past. Truly. It wasn’t easy or quick, but it was worth the work and wait. I promise you that for the first time in a long time, I am living my life like it’s golden (or I’m golden—take your pick).
I believe that I have been a walking paradox my whole life. I am the unwanted, chosen child. I am the fretful free spirit. I am the first born who was raised in a house as the youngest member. I am a child at heart with an old soul. I am all that I never thought I could be, but believed I was supposed to be. Funny, isn’t it?? At times, I played myself small because I didn’t see myself in my fully recognized form. I shrunk into dark spaces, so that my shine wouldn’t hurt anyone’s eyes. I didn’t believe I could fly because no one around me seemed to be able to. Folks were maintaining; who had time for dreaming? I was so full of myself that I could have burst, but I couldn't find my voice. I was never afraid of failure, but absolutely terrified of success. Funny isn’t it?? But maybe, it’s just a little bit sad.
It’s my birthday, but I'll be damned if I cry because for 38 years I have triumphed over adversity, both large and small. I have tangoed with demons—some, my own and the others, well…let’s just say they weren’t mine. But you know what? I have laughed in the rain and been kissed by the moon. In my time, I have held Heaven in my hands, played in the stars, sang with the trees. I have double-dutched under rainbows and danced on the sun. I have survived, I have thrived and I have arrived. In my 38 years.
In my 38 years, I have amassed a treasure trove of blessings. I have beautiful children, a wonderful husband, a supportive grandma, great friends and a loving family. I have a ready mind and a fighting spirit. I have most of my health and all of my worth. I have a quick wit and a hearty laugh. I have a fantastic job and a defined purpose. I have a gift of discernment and the freedom of speech. I have my ups, my downs, my tragedy and my triumph. I have a clear vision and focused action. I have a wealth of talent and a rich existence. I have a steel spine and a soft heart. I have compassion and passion. I have common sense and book smarts. I have life, truth and love. I have options. I have freedom and boundaries and you know what? I have me, myself and I (that’s 38 things, in case you were wondering).
Today is my day. Today is a day to celebrate who and how I am. This is a day for gratitude and reflection. I want to thank my grandmother for pouring love into me and helping me get to this point in my life. She has always believed in me and loved me, even when I didn’t always love myself. She stood in the gaps that my parents’ absences left. For this, I am grateful. And so as I usher in my 38th birthday, I want to thank her from the very depths of my soul. Because even though she didn’t push me into this world; she’s helped me navigate around this world--pushing me along the way. So Happy Birthday to me, but I owe my chance at a happy life to her. And today, (in the words of India Arie) “I’m celebrating the woman I’ve become." Peace.
India Arie "Private Party"
In these 38 years, I have seen some of the darkest spaces in human nature, but I prefer to focus on the beauty that surrounds me. Too often we allow ourselves to become burdened by the many unfair things that happened to us as children. I have decided that I am not responsible for the things I could not control and so I forgive those who have added to the pain in my past. Truly. It wasn’t easy or quick, but it was worth the work and wait. I promise you that for the first time in a long time, I am living my life like it’s golden (or I’m golden—take your pick).
I believe that I have been a walking paradox my whole life. I am the unwanted, chosen child. I am the fretful free spirit. I am the first born who was raised in a house as the youngest member. I am a child at heart with an old soul. I am all that I never thought I could be, but believed I was supposed to be. Funny, isn’t it?? At times, I played myself small because I didn’t see myself in my fully recognized form. I shrunk into dark spaces, so that my shine wouldn’t hurt anyone’s eyes. I didn’t believe I could fly because no one around me seemed to be able to. Folks were maintaining; who had time for dreaming? I was so full of myself that I could have burst, but I couldn't find my voice. I was never afraid of failure, but absolutely terrified of success. Funny isn’t it?? But maybe, it’s just a little bit sad.
It’s my birthday, but I'll be damned if I cry because for 38 years I have triumphed over adversity, both large and small. I have tangoed with demons—some, my own and the others, well…let’s just say they weren’t mine. But you know what? I have laughed in the rain and been kissed by the moon. In my time, I have held Heaven in my hands, played in the stars, sang with the trees. I have double-dutched under rainbows and danced on the sun. I have survived, I have thrived and I have arrived. In my 38 years.
In my 38 years, I have amassed a treasure trove of blessings. I have beautiful children, a wonderful husband, a supportive grandma, great friends and a loving family. I have a ready mind and a fighting spirit. I have most of my health and all of my worth. I have a quick wit and a hearty laugh. I have a fantastic job and a defined purpose. I have a gift of discernment and the freedom of speech. I have my ups, my downs, my tragedy and my triumph. I have a clear vision and focused action. I have a wealth of talent and a rich existence. I have a steel spine and a soft heart. I have compassion and passion. I have common sense and book smarts. I have life, truth and love. I have options. I have freedom and boundaries and you know what? I have me, myself and I (that’s 38 things, in case you were wondering).
Today is my day. Today is a day to celebrate who and how I am. This is a day for gratitude and reflection. I want to thank my grandmother for pouring love into me and helping me get to this point in my life. She has always believed in me and loved me, even when I didn’t always love myself. She stood in the gaps that my parents’ absences left. For this, I am grateful. And so as I usher in my 38th birthday, I want to thank her from the very depths of my soul. Because even though she didn’t push me into this world; she’s helped me navigate around this world--pushing me along the way. So Happy Birthday to me, but I owe my chance at a happy life to her. And today, (in the words of India Arie) “I’m celebrating the woman I’ve become." Peace.
India Arie "Private Party"
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Gratitude is the Right Attitude
How many of us say, "Thank you?" I don't mean just when someone gives you change at the grocery store or gives you a gift. I'm serious. How many of us express our gratitude on a consistent basis for things like being a good friend or a good listener? The old folks have a saying that one should "give me my roses while I'm alive." What that means is that we should tell folks all of the positive things we feel about them when they are alive to enjoy them. I mean a funeral eulogy is great, but that is really for everyone else (because um, well, you can't hear them). "Give me my roses while I'm alive."
I believe that we should express our gratitude loudly and often. For real. We get so consumed with the negativity and craziness of our daily lives and we sometimes forget to say "thank you." Seriously. Some of you might be shaking your heads and are wondering if I'm crazy or not. Well, the truth is is that I might be crazy, but I'm never ungrateful. For instance, today I asked folks to like my page on FB and they did. Thank you!!! I'm not feeling well and my grandma came over and did what she does everyday--love me up. Thank you!! Today, I was able to get out of bed, albeit shakily, and put my feet on the floor. Thank you!!
I'm writing this post out of my own need to look at the brighter side. I have been having a rough week and I have found out that some folks I liked a whole lot were shady. So I was feeling sorry for myself for a moment and then one of my kids walked past and gave me a hug. For no reason at. all. And then that same kid said, "Thank you for being a great mom!!" And then walked out of the room. Thank me? No, thank you, you grateful kid!! Thank you, indeed!! Those spoken words of gratitude reignited my spirit and pulled me out of my slump of self-pity. I could remember my worth because I had just been told I was important and that someone appreciated me. Thank you.
So here are my thank yous: Thank you to my family and friends for everything you do to keep me intact, especially my husband, our kids and my grandma. Thank you to all of the people who love me and sustain me in my daily journey. Thank you to my true blue bonafide grown up girlpie crew. Thank you to all of you who have supported my growth and development. Thank you to those of you who have my back and take up for me when I'm too tired to fight. Thank you to the ones who push me to write more, read more, teach more, laugh more, do more, etc...Thank you to everyone who contributes anything artistic to the world because it inspires me as I enjoy it. Thank you to anyone who champions the causes of those who can't advocate for themselves. Thank you to anyone who is trying to make this world a better place and believes that people are worth saving. Thank you for being you and for reading this and for anything, everything that you do to add to the life of someone else. A million times--THANK YOU!!!
India Arie "Little Things"
I believe that we should express our gratitude loudly and often. For real. We get so consumed with the negativity and craziness of our daily lives and we sometimes forget to say "thank you." Seriously. Some of you might be shaking your heads and are wondering if I'm crazy or not. Well, the truth is is that I might be crazy, but I'm never ungrateful. For instance, today I asked folks to like my page on FB and they did. Thank you!!! I'm not feeling well and my grandma came over and did what she does everyday--love me up. Thank you!! Today, I was able to get out of bed, albeit shakily, and put my feet on the floor. Thank you!!
I'm writing this post out of my own need to look at the brighter side. I have been having a rough week and I have found out that some folks I liked a whole lot were shady. So I was feeling sorry for myself for a moment and then one of my kids walked past and gave me a hug. For no reason at. all. And then that same kid said, "Thank you for being a great mom!!" And then walked out of the room. Thank me? No, thank you, you grateful kid!! Thank you, indeed!! Those spoken words of gratitude reignited my spirit and pulled me out of my slump of self-pity. I could remember my worth because I had just been told I was important and that someone appreciated me. Thank you.
So here are my thank yous: Thank you to my family and friends for everything you do to keep me intact, especially my husband, our kids and my grandma. Thank you to all of the people who love me and sustain me in my daily journey. Thank you to my true blue bonafide grown up girlpie crew. Thank you to all of you who have supported my growth and development. Thank you to those of you who have my back and take up for me when I'm too tired to fight. Thank you to the ones who push me to write more, read more, teach more, laugh more, do more, etc...Thank you to everyone who contributes anything artistic to the world because it inspires me as I enjoy it. Thank you to anyone who champions the causes of those who can't advocate for themselves. Thank you to anyone who is trying to make this world a better place and believes that people are worth saving. Thank you for being you and for reading this and for anything, everything that you do to add to the life of someone else. A million times--THANK YOU!!!
India Arie "Little Things"
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