Depression. It’s easier to type than to speak on. As a member of the black community, I know all too well about the stigmas of not speaking or dealing with mental illness directly. So excuse me if I’ve been M.I.A. since my last post. In case anyone cared, I just wanted to let you know that I have been drowning in my emotions, but somehow I am floating and barely managing to keep my head above water.
If someone were to ask me about my chronic depression and constant bad habit to fall off the face of the earth, I wouldn’t even know where to begin to dig. What is the origin of this sad, sick shit? Should I blame my mother for how she raised me…with little to no regard for the next person’s feelings? Or should I blame my father for inheriting destructive traits such as anger and aggression? Both of my parents were firecrackers and as if that wasn’t bad enough, neither of them were good at verbal communication.
Tears bombard me daily and I fight to keep them from falling. My employer has sent me home several times already after breaking down at work….boss-lady says she can’t have me there in tears because I deal with customers. I told her that I can push through my tears if I have to; I certainly don’t have to leave work. She just doesn’t want me crying and moping at work. Though, I’m not a robot. I can recall many times I’ve worked with my red, puffy eyes and quivering lips. In all actuality, no one really cares. People are too wrapped up in their own lives and messes to wonder why the hell the cashier is balling her eyes out in front of them.
Recently, I’ve signed up for a weekly group session for anger management. I thought I should take more proactive measures for handling my anger — weekly sessions with my personal counselor doesn’t seem to be helping much. I sat in for the first time just two days ago…. and this guy was saying some pretty crazy shit. He mentioned that the highest suicide rates tend to be in the months of May and June. I’m embarrassed and at the same time quite frightened to think of how many times in the past week that I’ve thought of taking myself out. The only reason I’m still breathing is honestly because of my wife. Because I cannot be that selfish.
“It’s been too hard livin’, but I’m afraid to die…”
Currently. I’m listening to Sam Cooke’s A Change Gon’ Come… trying to gather and muster up any form of strength I can to continue and be inspired. All I can say is that it is DAMN hard to give positive vibes off to someone you love (or anyone for that matter) when you can barely fill yourself up…