May is Mental Health Month

I still have nightmares. Frightening, scary, anxiety provoking nightmares. At one point in life,  they were regular occurrences. After going long periods without any,  I thought I was "healed". But then I read a fabulous article for those who suffer from PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). I read that this journey is a lifelong one. Thankfully,  I have a boyfriend who is the greatest in the world. Literally. While some have teased me for having nightmares as an adult--not knowing anything apart from me having nightmares and not the WHY behind it,  my boyfriend walks through them with me. Like, literally. Whenever I have a nightmare I can call him any time of day and he will walk through it with me,  emotions and all. I am thankful for a man of his character. A man so loving and patient. It takes a great person to walk though life with someone who has some trauma that has completely changed life for them. He is among the great ones. 

I am a silent sufferer. I suffer in silence with PTSD.  Along with PTSD there are some other issues that I have as a result of trauma. Trauma is such an interesting thing. You really never know what an experience in life will do to you. Something I considered very little or insignificant can be that same thing that causes trauma for someone. You never know. You really just never know. For some years, I have been in denial that what I experience is PTSD. I have been in denial because the incident to me just wasn't' "bad" enough. Also because PTSD is usually something that happens to certain people--and I didn't fit that.  I have these ideas in my head of things that are "bad", and my life experience didn't fit the bill. But the thing about labels is, you don't need to label something for that something to be exactly what it is. So even in my denial--that didn't stop the anxiety attacks, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the panic attacks, or the fear--that accompanies me daily in life. Because of this major thing in life, and some other things--I am a GIGANTIC advocate of mental health. It's a passion of mine. I live with it daily. Daily. I know what it feels like to think you're losing your mind. I understand what it means to have to take a daily medication to feel "normal".  I admit I understand it on a very small level compared to some. It is not a joke. As much as I am passionate about mental health, I am 100 times more passionate about Jesus. So for me, you can't separate the two. We were made as a triune person. We have a mind, body and soul. I truly believe the Lord wants us healthy in all areas. Therefore, I can say Jesus is my all while taking my anxiety medication. The Lord has made it all. I can guarantee that if the Lord didn't provide doctors and therapists, I would likely have ended my life. Yeah me. The one who has a smile plastered on her face most the time. The one who giggles like no other. The one who others look at as outwardly attractive.  I am who I am, and can smile like I do because Jesus was good enough to humble me into accepting medication is okay as a Christian. 

So while I continue on with my nightmares and mental disorders--please know  I have a partner for life who is beyond all I could desire. While I have never spoken of my disorders and have suffered in silence, I guess the silence ends today.  But not everyone is so lucky. Keep this in mind as April ends and May begins. May is Mental Health month. Get Mental Healthy!!

Build-a-BEAR

I want you.... and You. I want your touch. I want your conversation. I want your sweetness . I want your safety. I want your stability. I want... you and You. I want your passion. I want your stamina. I want your intelligence. I want your street knowledge. I want all of YOU.

But how. How can I take a perfectly Perfect Bear and tear it apart to suit me. How? How can something be so beautiful, but yet so separate. I want two to be one. How can something so separate be so beautiful. Ignorance? Blindness?

YOU. I can only see YOU. Building a bear has never appealed to me... until now. Can contentment come when I’m wanting the build-a-bear? Building a bear isn’t possible. So begs the question, is contentment.... 

Control

Relinquish control. It's okay, It's safe. It won't hurt you. You don't have to count, calculate, recall, and remember it all. It's time to let go. This is all you've ever wanted. But now you're ready to sabotage it over something that can be easily resolved. Non-negotiable's are things you are certain you can’t live with. But today, you're asking yourself perhaps you can. What has changed. Simply it's the unknown. It's about making a choice and living with it. But it's not that simple after all. Choosing between two good things makes it even more difficult. However, when did that which you didn't want, become now what you do want... once you’ve gotten all you've ever wanted!? The irony.

One in A Million

Today is 10/14/2019. This date is important because less than two weeks ago a white female officer walked into a black man's apartment mistaking it for her own. And killed him. She walked into someone else's home and killed him. She was charged with murder, but only received 10 years in prison. I say "only" because this was my trigger. From what I gather (media only shows us what they want) I felt sorry for the officer. I honestly believed she fucked up and made the mistake of her life. Oh, wait, I forgot to introduce myself. I am a black woman in Texas. Not only a black woman, but the hue of black you would see when you look into a delicious snickers bar. So yeah, there is absolutely no mistaking me for anything other than black (unless you consider my wavy natural hair- *whateves*). Real story, for another post. I digress.

 I set that stage because imagine me, a dark chocolate, fully black woman having sympathy for this white police officer. The backlash I received from my own was.... gag worthy. But as I once stated, I see through an entirely different lens than other black folks. Yes, the system is broken. Yes, I do believe there is racism. But in some instances the black vs white the media likes to play, just doesn't fit. I hate to be the one to say this, but Amber Guyger would have gotten a "pass" if she had killed a black man while on duty. *shrugs* Had she honestly wanted to kill a black man--shit, 10 black men, she could have done it with her "get outta jail free card" police officer-white -woman badge. Why the fuck would she go to her place of residence and do it?! In my brain??? Because it was a horrible accident! But black people can never, and will never see it that way. And honestly, that's okay. But what is not okay, is when they crucify someone like me. Someone who is black who doesn't agree with their narrative. I see what you see. However, I don't believe what you believe. Why is that not okay?!

Fast forward less than two weeks after the aforementioned fiasco, and yet we are faced with another white officer that kills an unarmed black woman. The entirely of this story saddens me to my core. Yet, I am saddened not only for the victim, but for the officer as well. Does this make me a bad black person? I can't help that these situations evoke sadness instead of anger. I am sad for all involved.

But please don't get it twisted. I understand when black people say "if you are concerned about me, don't call the police". I get it. I feel it. I AM black. But I also am very analytical. Some things make sense to *me* and others things don't. I believe police are trained to kill and ask later. Black, white, or brown. That is how they are trained. Is there a problem in America? Sure. Does it solely rest with the police? No. I don't have the answer. But I have my answer. 

I am going to be me. Like it or not. It is who I am. I am black by ethnicity. Chocolate as candy. Experience has allowed me to spend 15 years around white people. The people whom blacks would consider their enemy, Yet, these same people accept me better than my own. Some might say I am brain washed or "whitewashed", however, I would say I have been exposed. Exposed to those who are thought to be the enemy.

To me....you both are the enemy, it just depends on the day. 

Broken records

This broken record continues to play. I don't know how it plays, but it does. Nothing broken should sound so lovely. The softness of the music continues to arouse me. The words. The rhythm. The beat. It is all so lovely. Yet it's broken. How could something broken play such a lovely sound. The sound that calls for me. I can't help but to be enticed by the sound. All the while being perplexed at how a record could play when it is broken. Its not that I don't know the record is broken, yet I continue to listen. I expect the brokenness to do that which defies the odds and play music. And for some time it does. The music plays with no skips. And then just as the depth of the music begins to reveal itself, the record stalls. The same word. Over and over again. Instead of stopping the record, I let it continue. I listen as if the sound that continues to ring in my ear, will be different. As if no action at all is somehow going to produce something different. It can't, the record is broken. As I wait and hope that this broken record will produce that which it is not capable of producing, I must convince myself that the record has reached its end. As lovely as this record has been. As many memories that the words of this record brings up, the time has come. Not just to put away the record until a better time. But it is time to say goodbye. Say goodbye to the brokenness. Time to say goodbye to the hopes and desires I had for this record. It is no longer good enough to just pack it away until a better time.This time it must be discarded. It is time for a new record. A new song. New memories. New dances to a brand new record. The rhythm will be different. I may not know the beat. The words will take some time to memorize, but it's time. It's time to be out with the old, and find the new. No more broken records. It's time for newness.

Dear Me

Dear Me,

Continue to be you. Be sensitive.  Cry.  Ask questions. Giggle loudly. There are days you tell yourself you must change. That you need to be different.  But as hard as you try,  you can't. You can't change your infectious laugh that causes people to say something. You can't change that you "talk white". This advise is being given on a day where you are questioning yourself. Why and what.  It's always why and what. But this time the why and what is different because it's made you cry. And you thought you were strong enough not to cry. That's really the problem,  you always think you're strong enough. You keep asking yourself what you did and why this keeps happening. As if somehow if you were different,  prettier, lighter, or more black the results would be different. But sadly,  they never are.  There are just a few things in life my heart desires. Not too much,  just a few.

Disillusioned

The happily ever after,  the butterflies in the stomach,  I love you letters. All an illusion. Respect,  love,  trust.  All illusion. Two imperfect people making a choice to choose one another.  That's it.  No sparks. No fairytale ending. Cinderella lied. Sleeping beauty was wrong,  and Snow white...also misinformed. It's all just a story we're told. Books we are read.  But life and fairytale don't marry well. Or at all. From the outside looking in,  fairytales are believable. The smiles, the photos, the beautiful and splendid weddings. But after the curtain is pulled and the pretty dress is taken off. After the cameras stop flashing and life resumes. The illusion no longer remains to exist. You're still left with two imperfect people, who've made a choice. Choosing one another. It's all just a choice, wrapped up in exquisitely breath-taking decorated paper. The outside appears beautiful, while the inside, the inside is just a simple choice.