As I sat on the balcony, wrestling with two very dull knives. My wrists still managed to spew out the cherry wine red trapped in my veins, my face as puffy as a blowfish. Perhaps my yelps were alarming because my partner ran out grabbing the knife, covering his own holy temple in the waves of my blood. I couldn't look at him, I couldn't apologize. I couldn't do anything but wonder why I was still alive. wondering why did someone care enough to stop me. wondering why I was worth it. hours later my mom, stepdad & brother show up for a mental health intervention. I wanted to avoid it all, pretend like it was all a joke and maybe everyone would laugh and go back to their day. I even attempted to go to work that evening. My keys were rightfully taken away. The pain I felt inside isn't very unique at all. Depression can show up to anyone’s party, often in phases.
I wasn’t depressed- or I didn't think I was. I could wake up in the morning, brush my teeth, eat a healthy breakfast, be a social butterfly, be a good listener to those around me. So surely I was far from depressed right? Wrong. The forms of self-care I was performing were mostly just coping methods that mask internal conflict rather than revealing and working them. For weeks I was feeling like “nothing” thinking I’m having a spiritual enlightenment. I was trapped between the ideas of Ego death, making me think of physical death My inner voices were telling me to disappear, to cut off the ones that love me, and to physically cut the pain that my emotional traumas have caused. I talked to nobody about these feelings, I let them build-up to the point of not knowing what was my true inner voice and which voices were my emotional demons.
Hearing things like ‘You’re a strong black woman. Why would you want to do this to yourself?’ “Think of how selfish you are being’ literally can make me want to pull my hair out because I’m left to wonder about the narrative of being a strong black woman and having a mental illness. What does one have to do with the other? Am I not allowed to feel depression, because I have so much to prove to society as it is?
In the aftermath of things, I don't suddenly feel better, It is indeed a journey to changing the way my brain has fell victim to a lower vibrational thought-form. My mental state had become so defeated that it led my body to crumble. The actual functioning of the brain changes in this acute suicidal moment. Studies show that men are more likely to die by suicide than women, but more women than men attempt suicide. While the majority of suicide attempt survivors being women. Introducing practices that can combat anxiety and stress are imperative for all of us.
I have started to keep an orange in the freezer and smell it when I need to feel a sense of grounding. I have been running. Expressing things to my partner helps me to vent out confusing thoughts. I say focus on positive affirmations. I meditate & breathing exercises multiple times a day and when I am feeling the pressures of being a high demand person, I step back and realize the things that I am grateful for and that choices are mine to make. I don't have to align with societal expectations, there is something relieving in that.
