Random Rumblings – 10.12.17

Hey Loves,

Sorry for the silence. So much has been going on. I feel like I’m losing my dang mind on some things. I will update you later in the week.

But, as many of you are aware it is both Breast Cancer Awareness month and Domestic Violence Awareness month. Both are equally important causes that we should know and support. I post more on domestic violence because I am a survivor of abuse and find it important that we stand up for those that are being victimized.

All is well with Mr. C and I. Still happy and in love. Still living our happy black a** life despite some people trying to bring BS to my door. I love that man. Can I just say that? I thank God for sending me a partner that stands with me and for me against those that wish to commit evil.

Munch is doing awesome in school. I was reviewing his grades on-line and it’s all A’s and B’s. He’s adjusting well to 4th grade and went on his first field trip to a science center. I am thankful for his continued growth.

I’ve been in a mood the last week and attended a birthday party honoring my girlfriend a couple of nights ago. It was such the perfect distraction to the drama and I am thankful for my friends. See, God has given me such a support group that I can’t even begin to thank Him for all that I have.

I attended the first PTA meeting last night at school. I signed up for some committees. I think I’m going to try to write a grant to get yoga or a mindfulness instructor teaching the kids at school for a month. The sky’s the limit. I also signed up to be a part of a community advocacy group. Last year, Munch wanted to do a coat drive and PTA couldn’t make it happen. They confirmed to me last night that it will happen this year. What a blessing to be a blessing.

Between chairing the Veteran’s Committee for my sorority and some committees at Munch’s school it’s going to be a busy year, but I’m excited for the opportunity. That’s all for now. I’ll update you later on and I hope you have an amazing day.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Advertisements

You Probably Need Therapy

I believe in therapy. I believe that there has been a mental shift in this country in how we really deal with our issues. In fact, we don’t deal with them. We walk around wearing masks like there is absolutely nothing wrong with us.

But, it is a lie.

There are things that are wrong with you.

There is something wrong with me.

There is something wrong with you.

There is something wrong with all of us.

Let’s stop pretending.

Did you know that 44% of Americans between the ages of 18-44 suffer from depression? It’s staggering, yet imaginable. The media isn’t helping. The weather isn’t helping. Life is just overwhelming some days.

The NIMH estimates that in the United States, 16 million adults had at least one major depressive episode in 2012. That’s 6.9 percent of the population. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), 350 million people worldwide suffer from depression. It is a leading cause of disability.

That’s a lot of us that are depressed. Depression is common and many of us overlook it. I’ve suffered from depression and I’m pretty sure that if you think back to life’s events that have affected you…you probably have too. Was there a death of a loved one? Divorce? Job loss?

I’ve seen therapists many times as an adult. It was in therapy that I realized that I suffer from anxiety. I knew that I had a way of processing that was different, but I couldn’t put my fingers on it. When I explained to my closest friends about my anxiety. They sighed and said “Yep, that’s it.”

My anxiety may not be as severe as other people, but it is something that I recognize and realized that I’ve passed down to Munch. It’s difficult to find the words to encourage my baby to stop worrying about things and as my grandma used to say “borrow tomorrow’s troubles”. He is anxious. He’s 9. He shouldn’t worry.

But, he got it honestly. I worry A LOT. I’m just learning to let things go and not let them stress me out. Through friends and my absolutely fabulous therapist, I’m learning to process what I need too and disregard the rest of the noise. This is part of why I’ve been sharing my self-preservation and the power is within you posts.

I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m accepting that I don’t have all the answers. That I can’t figure it out all by myself. I needed help. I’m getting it.

We have to stop stigmatizing mental health issues. I know in the black community we don’t seem to believe in therapy. We believe that you can pray your way out of anything. Including mental health.

This is not true.

Prayer helps and I believe that God hears all and sees all. But, how can you hear God if you’re hearing voices because you have schizophrenia? You can’t.  It’s impossible.

Now, ya’ll know that I think all black people need three things: Jesus, wine and therapy. We have to stop labeling mental health issues as crazy and start supporting and encouraging our love ones (and ourselves) to get the help we need. It’s about time we stop promoting the strong black woman bulls*it and just promote healthy minds for a healthy you.

It’s time to take care our mental health and spirit too.

c4492d2c5d9fa6dc13d1ee4e46e10941

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Overwhelming

Sometimes it is overwhelming to deal with people that don’t know how to act. You know the ones that treat you like crap or lash out at you for no reason than they feel like it. You find yourself struggling. Trying to breathe from the overwhelming BS that is shoved your way.

I’m dealing with my issues. I’m an advocate for mental health and therapy. I don’t want to own the baggage of others. I try to separate myself from ignorance and people bringing negativity. Some days are better than others.

It is a struggle to balance both good and evil in your life. But, I’m learning. I have great people that surround me who whisper to me “Don’t let it bother you” “Let it roll off your back” and “Don’t carry their baggage. You’re not a baggage handler.”

I smile.

I struggle with this overwhelming guilt that I’m somehow being a bad Christian, sister, daughter, human being if I push back. It’s a learning process. I’m learning to not be overwhelmed.

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Prompt. The word was overwhelming.

Dying to Live

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day.  I didn’t know this until last week when one of my fellow bloggers posted this. I reblogged and shared her post. I didn’t know there was such a thing as World Suicide Prevention Day. Why?

Because talking about suicide is considered taboo. Who wants to talk about death? Death is morbid right? Death should never be discussed in good conversations.

So, what am I going to do?

Talk about death. More specifically, the time I tried to take my own life. I was 14. I had a boyfriend. He broke up with me. Why? Because I had gotten raped by a classmate and he blamed me. He didn’t know about date rape and neither did I. But, I needed him to help me.

To help me cope. To tell me it’s not my fault. To support me through the trauma I had just experienced. He couldn’t. He chose to abandon me. I chose to kill myself that night.

I was 14. I was tired. Physically, emotionally and spiritually. I wanted to DIE. I wanted to end it all because the pain was unbearable. I felt alone. I had been raped and dumped within the span of 24 hours. I couldn’t breathe.

I took a bottle full of pills. Over the counter sleeping pills. I cried. I cut my wrists. Superficial wounds apparently. I called my best friend and said good-bye. She was the only one that I trusted. She called her mother for help.

Her mother called my mother. I was admitted to the hospital. I cried when they forced me to drink the dye to make me vomit. I cried harder. I just want to die. Why won’t you let me die?

My best friend held my hand and kept my secret. She told her mother and my mother that she didn’t know why I had tried to take my life. Sisterhood at its strongest. No one knew.

My silence was overwhelming. I cried. I didn’t talk. I just existed. My mom had to take the next few days off of work because I couldn’t be left alone. Left alone to keep my siblings. I was in immense pain.

An ache was in my spirit that was so unbearable that it took most of my energy to get out of bed and shower daily. That was all I did. Shower and put my pajamas back on. I cried and sat in my room looking for peace.

Dear God,

It’s me. Why won’t you let me die? I have nothing left to give. Man has taken my body repeatedly and now my boyfriend has taken my heart. Please let me die. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up. I promise it will make me feel better if you just let me die.

Signed,

I don’t want to live anymore.

That was my daily prayer. It consumed me. I knew that death would be easier than staying in this body that had been used by men with a broken heart and spirit. But, God.

God had other plans. God said no. My mother came in my room one day and sat on the bed and said, “As a parent you wish that you could kiss every tear that falls from your child’s eyes. To protect them from harm. But, you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to help. But, I know that God hears all and will help you. Please pray to God. Tell him what’s going on since you won’t talk to me.” She left the room.

I got on my knees and prayed.

“God help me! Please God! I need you!” I cried out.

God heard my cry for help. He listened and saved me. The pain subsided and I was able to resume my daily activities, but I know what it feels like to feel trapped in the pain of your own head. I know how it feels to think that death is the only way out, but I promise you it’s not. The pain you’re in is temporary. It will end. I promise you.

Let’s talk about suicide. Let’s share our stories and let’s help others know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s World Suicide Prevention Day. Let’s save a life.

My Random Musings

Meaning

Sometimes the load gets to heavy to carry. The weight of the world rests on my shoulders and I feel as though no one can see my pain. I struggle to maintain my sanity when my world turns upside down. To be able to distinguish between fact and fiction when I’m looking through the glass and trying to find meaning.

Is it supposed to be hard? Am I supposed to know what to do with my life? How can I get out of this situation I put myself in? When will the pain end? Does anyone see me crying? Why can’t people stop being so dang selfish and offer to just be there?

All those thoughts overwhelm me and the voices start to tell me that no one is there and that it is all on me. I don’t know if it’s true. I’m grasping for something to hold on to because I can’t seem to get my bearing. I need to find solace. I need to find my strength and regain my balance.

Black women are supposed to be strong. We’re not supposed to show the cracks in our armor. We are supposed to heal. A mental health break is for fools they whisper. Pick up your armor and keep fighting the voices yell. I can’t. I’m too tired. I can’t keep fighting. Am I having a mental breakdown?

I need to get a grip. So, I place my weary body in bed and reach for my Ipad. I need to read. To lose my mind in the pages of someone else’s fiction. To stop trying to fix my life when I can’t stop crying. I click on the Kindle app and read and soon I feel my pain ease.

My mind subsides. The voices become a whisper and I find solace in the pages of an author’s pain. The characters become kindred spirits and I see color. Color is calming. It claims my spirit and tells me that this too shall pass.

I like color. I like reading. I like being. Right here. With you. In this fantasy.

Imani Cezanne “Flowers”

Wow is all I can say!

I am so moved by this poet’s words that I had to share this. It touched my soul. As someone who is plus sized, grew up without her father, dealt with sexual abuse and all the manifestations of that trauma and life…food became my solace. It comforted me. It didn’t hurt me.

Some people may never understand the true pain of an emotional eater. We judge. We laugh. We act like they don’t exist. We was me when I used to hide behind big clothes to not be noticed. I tried to stop eating. To do fad diets. No results. I had to change me. I had to get to the root of the problem.

I did. I was camouflaging the pain. It is only then that I was able to understand what I was running from and how I could change. I have lost weight (45 pounds to be exact). It is a journey. It is something that I will never stop living. Each day is a gift and I understand it. I don’t use food as a crutch anymore. But, I will never forget.