Free The Hood

Mental Health Update: I feel like I'm through the worst. I understand now why I fell apart in the first place. And I'm thankful I was literally home in bed when my mind came unraveled. It's been weeks of downloads from The Universe, memories surfacing from twenty years ago, unfolding methodically over the last month and a half. I feel relief, because I understand so much of that which I wasn't able to before now. 

I'm keeping myself busy with many things in life, but a lot of that is resting. When I try to figure out why The Universe hasn't supplied me with new employment yet, my guides tell me that they are more concerned with me getting a grasp on my mental health first. I have chosen to put my full trust into God, and not fight what comes into my life, or what doesn't. The answer is the right one, I suppose. At least, I want to feel that way. But with my ex constantly on my ass, I fear my mental health may take a drastic and sudden turn once more. He's very impatient, and in his Narcissism, shows no compassion for me in general, under any circumstances. The situation has become so tense, he's been staying elsewhere, which makes this journey back into good mental health, a little easier.

As the world rallies around a certain pop star, screaming for her freedom, and acknowledges her mental health issues with compassion, I feel more frustrated now than ever. It's not that I too don't support a grown woman having her freedom, but from my perspective, being able to jet off to Hawaii when you're struggling with mental health is the epitome of privilege. Some of us are left to ask those around us to help feed us while we find time to mend our minds. And we're forced to return to the workplace before we're truly healed, potentially causing a further decline in our already fragile mental state. Where is the compassion and outrage for those without any of the privilege of the rich and famous?

The situation with my ex is partially what pushed me into the mild breakdown that overtook my life this summer. There were a few contributing factors, I admit, but his abusive behaviors toward me sexually, and my being unable to escape, was a major factor in the decline of my mental health. It's hard to understand why someone doesn't just tell someone, but I tried. I will file a complaint with the police department if he ever tries this behavior again, but you have to be willing to see how lost in abuse a woman is when her survival has depended on a (controlling) man for decades of her life. It's not an easy pattern to break. I'm doing it a little at a time. Even not responding to a text meant to keep tabs on me, is me fighting back, breaking the chains, realizing my power.

I wish when someone tried to talk to a friend or family member honestly, they would listen. I had the opposite response from a man I had grown to consider a friend. I tried to pave my way to telling him my truth, but the minute it seemed like I "didn't have it all under together", this friend literally stopped talking to me. Dead ass. Nobody wants to be associated with someone who lets the mask slide. It's social suicide. And yet that's all I seem to be able to commit to lately, social suicide. At times I resent being told to start this journey at all, but I know that I would never stay somewhere the only acceptable version of me was the one that served everyone but me. I deserve better.

I've been mulling over a controversial thought process, but I've been hesitant to share that newfound belief. Then I remember, girl, you've already committed social suicide, go for it! What if we made suicide a medical option? We have given the okay to Cancer patients who know they are going to die, in certain states, why not those who are done living? It's not I support suicide as the best option, far from it. It's just that if we acknowledge that mental illness is as real as Cancer, we might have a fighting chance of curing it. 

The suicide victims as of now, tend to take their lives in private. They suffer silently, alone, in the shadows of those who somehow deserve our compassion more. They hide their symptoms until it's too late. Nobody deserves to die alone. It seems completely to hide something that takes so many lives every year. Why do we do that? Why do we push those who feel alone, further away, until darkness overtakes them?

If we made suicide by choice legal, there would be counseling, and drug plans, and support where there was nothing before. You might even be able to join a suicidal ideation group on facebook, someday. Where instead of hiding in the gloom, you can help banish it by sharing with others who face the same pain day in and day out. The stigma's would disappear, and connection would be born. We would see how united we are despite our differences. I think we might even be astounded by how many of us feel like suicide is the only way out. The #metoo movement shocked us, because before that we may have actually been able to buy into the belief that being raped was actually kind of rare. In the aftermath, it's almost more rare to find a single woman without a story of sexual abuse.

And if you still decided that after decades of suffering the symptoms of an emotional cancer, that death was still the answer for you, at least your whole family could be by your bedside as you took your last breath. You wouldn't die alone, in a garage, fueled with alcohol and rage, by a gunshot that nobody heard, not even you. A loved one wouldn't have to find your body weeks, months, years later, and forever be haunted by how alone you were in your final moments. I don't know, it's an option to consider, I suppose. The benefits might not outweigh the cons in the end, but we sure as Hell haven't figured it out yet, so there's room to start a conversation.

I have faith that with a little more time, and rest, and clarity, my mind will be fully ready to embrace a new chapter. I will keep taking one more step a day at a time. I get stronger all the time, running one more lap around my lake, starting yoga again, inviting a friend I had pushed away back into my life, going out in public for longer stretches of time, feeling a little less lost, and seeing how loved I am a little clearer.

I am proud of myself, even if the people around me see a weak, lazy, unsuccessful person. I am finally taking care of my mental health. I am finally beginning to see my worth, and that it isn't wrapped up in showing the world how independent I can be. I think it's humbling to have to accept charity in order to survive, when you were always taught to minimize your needs, to take as little as possible, to suffer your pain in silence. To be the strongest survivor of them all.

I will be the one who breaks that chain. I will be the leader. I will be the catalyst for change in places nobody else is fighting for it to be. You scream "free Britney!" I'll scream, "free the hood!" We are not the same. Thank God.