I always knew I was a little off in the rocker growing up, but I thought that was normal. Navigating my way through middle and high school was hard enough to deal with but adding to that struggle top of my family problems was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I always brought my mental health concerns to my mother or guardian at the time and the response I always got (except for my mom #superwoman) was “you’re going through puberty, this is normal to feel like this” or, my all-time favorite, “you have a roof over your head and clothes on your back, what is there to be sad about?”. Don’t get me wrong, those statements were/are true. But, after puberty, I asked myself “was my normal actually normal?”.
I knew I had anxiety but there was more to it, I felt emotionally drained, exhausted, and so damn irritable. But like I said before, when I brought this to a family member, or an authority figure it was always “roll with the punches”. Yes, punches as in dealing with a flat tire on exam day, losing your phone at a concert, or financial stress. Rolling with the punches is not wishing I was part of the population that Thanos snapped off. I had moments where I would catch myself being impulsive. Growing up I always had my hair done to look picture perfect. But I realized something wasn’t adding up when I chopped my hair off in my bathroom with kitchen scissors, a complete 180 of my normal. I would spend money I did not have, leading to a quirky little (it was not little in fact) debt. Thankfully, that has now been paid off. I would also help people out financially even if they didn’t need the money. I know the Lord said love your neighbor, but I don’t think he meant like that… After the impulsive urge went away, I noticed that I had bursts of energy. I’d clean in the middle of the night, go jogging at O dark thirty, and do other out of pocket things I usually wouldn’t do. I would feel so good about myself and have the biggest complex, I’m talking Andrew Tate complex. But when my lows would happen, they hit below rock bottom. I was so scared of my own mind; it was like being a passenger in my body with absolutely no control. How am I supposed to deal with that? It wasn’t until two semesters ago that I faced devastation which led me to get the help I needed. Then there I was in a therapist’s office, bouncing my leg, twiddling my thumbs, hearing my therapist’s fingers hit the keyboard at a dashing pace. It may not seem like it at the time, but I was so excited to finally receive the help that I needed, I felt like I had to mask who I was and my feelings, so people didn’t have to ask about my well-being. Being raised in a minority household they don’t believe in living; they believe in surviving which is fair because that’s all our parents were taught from our grandparents. Sometimes life is like playing survivor and trying to find professional help is like trying to find the hidden immunity idol. Plot twist, I found it. Once the nerves subsided, I took a scan around the room, and I realized it was kinda bright in from the sunlight. The off white walls were decorated with degrees and shelves filled with self-help books, but one book that particularly caught my eye was the DSM book. Now, for those of you who don’t know that is it’s the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which is the bible of mental disorders. That moment was when I realized that I wasn’t in the therapist’s office, I was in a psychiatric office. My initial reaction was an earth-shattering cackle and that’s when my psychiatrist hit me with my diagnoses, y’all ready? Bipolar disorder, severe anxiety, mild depression, and mild PTSD. Talk about alphabet soup. After years of feeling alone, depressed, and suicidal I finally had received the help that I needed and not to mention the validation as well, being told that how I was feeling was normal was far from the truth.
My takeaways?
- Be comfortable with the uncomfortable; the stigma around mental health needs to be talked about more and raise more awareness.
- If you’re a POC and you think pushing through is going to help you I need you to think again. While there is nothing particularly wrong with that, its not the full truth. I come from a line of woman who are so independent and awesome, and yeah sometimes the only way out is through, but who says you have to go through that journey alone. Even Batman has a sidekick!
- When you cross that finish line during a hard time not only will you thank those around you, but you’re going to see that you are a BADASS who isn’t afraid to be vulnerable or ask for help. This sounds cliché but sharing your life story can help someone save their own life.
- You are amazing.
- You are worthy.
- I am so happy you are here.
- You are not alone.
- You haven’t met all the people who are going to love you.
- If coping with humor helps you, I’ll make sure to cackle with you.
- I love you.
ShoutOut! James Madison University 