"It"

“It” gathered around my flesh as if I submerged myself in the pool that awaits the powerful fall of the water. The “it” we spend our conscious and sub conscious mind trying to acquire. “It” is a multitude of simplicities we weave into an overwhelming tarp of complexities that constrict us.

Why? How? Human nature.

The curse of thinking that you’re the most magnificent and superior animal on the planet.

Like most people I used to take the start of the new year as my only chance to turn around all I had screwed up throughout my previous years of existence. You must arrive to the conclusion that the resolution is not to begin on January 1 and burn out by Valentine’s day. There needs to be a re-programming (better yet an untangling, to stick with the previously used metaphor) of ones’ brain. I am by no means saying that it is easy to find the origin yarn, nor am I saying that I have the instructions to do so. All I can say is how “it” happened for me, gradually, more so glacially over the years.

Since I had the skill of recollection every hour felt like a day, every day a week, and every month a decade (yes, the scale was off, but depression isn’t efficient in probability). I berated myself for failure, for even the possibility of failure, for awkwardness of actions, and for awkwardness of appearance. Then I would bloody myself for having the audacity not to acknowledge the privilege I had. The privilege of having a loving family, never battling hunger, having a home … in the metaphorical and literal sense. My colon, my head, my stomach taking the brunt of the abuse my mind felt it necessary to dish out. The damage to my well being going unchecked and unhindered. Then the debilitating loneliness sauntered in and I just tried to put my head down and shoulder through every outdoor encounter, until I could melt into the walls of my room. All along I had no name for this suffering. If it’s not explained, expressed, discussed, and dissected, how can you begin recuperation. Panic episodes began, insomnia got more comfortable with me, and the migraines settled into their multiple daily occurrences. The out of place feeling became fact and I couldn’t put my shoulder down anymore. My skin had been torn off. My bones below me like shards of glass preventing me from taking any more steps forward.

All the while life continues to dish out its most pugnacious of offerings … illnesses, and death. Guilt and sadness pushing whatever was left of my body onto the pieces of myself that had already made an escape.

I went to a psychiatrist and although I didn’t know how to start the conversation the expert had no interest in hearing me. He prescribed, I refused. Then came a couple of years of weekly sessions with a therapist and with some scabs forming I was able to muster enough courage to say, “I am depressed.”

You must find the language, just to realize you are only reaching stage one because for so long you had been in negative standing. So, you feel defeated because you have understanding now, and you know there is so much more to do. You are unsure of your capability and your sustainability.

I went to a neurologist and an internist who made me feel like someone who was taking up their time. At some point for the first time in my adult life I was referred to a general practitioner who wasn’t trying to rush me out of the office. She gave me a depression screening test, which I didn’t even know was an option. She saw me and cultivated a health plan to my needs, not attempting to find a quick fix for the other ailments.

That moment wasn’t where it all connected, and I was restored to my human form as a functioning member of society. I’m aware that this must me torturous to read, seeing that I’m really struggling to write it. We look at wellness as too isolated of a task. It’s not just taking walks, getting alone time, going to the spa, taking a vacation, it is identifying the root. The aspects of ourselves we have battered and neglected and then doing the work of healing. I started taking anti-depressants because I stopped being ashamed of being depressed. I am taking the risks that petrified me. I had to record the feelings of the some of the lowest moments of my life and look at the empty cavity I was parading around as Jada, to appreciate the woman that is here in the year 2021.

She is fucking amazing, relieved that she’s not clamoring for unattainable perfection any longer. The confidence on this woman is getting impressive. She is saying no to people to preserve her sanity and just because she wants to sometimes. This woman is exploring her body and exploring the restrictions she once put on herself. Singing out loud not caring who on the street can hear her, getting artwork on her body as massive as she desires it to be. Cooking healthier, doing split training, and enjoying puzzles. Before the world shut down, she was going to movies, exhibits, and plays all by her lonesome dismissing the ignorant perception she had that that was pathetic. That woman has the boldness to dream again and take action to make those dreams a part of her reality. She is introducing her afro to the sun and they are falling in love. She is putting real effort into expelling her nervous habits from her system. This lady is forgiving herself. She is trying to not demean her artistry. She is being honest and not self-deprecating about her relationship with alcohol. Donning the clothes that exude her personality without a second thought. She is in the world participating in the causes that have been folded into her being from birth and the causes she gravitated to on her own. She is living.

She is me.

It is impossible to permanently revert to the infantile state you were once confined to. Be warned that the struggle, depression, tragedies, failures, disappointments, heartaches, loneliness, and horrors of life don’t just combust and settle into the freshly placed malleable cement. They will swell up in you and it will be hard to bathe. You’ll find it a challenge to go outside and when you do the smiles you administer will be invalid, but you will have set a precedent of understanding yourself. Being a vessel that is always an active construction site, you will get back to work.

Life is fucking short and this is the body and mind you have. Love it, improve upon it. Be kind to it. Be patient with it. This is the only way to be well for whatever time you have been allotted on this Earth.