Why 911 Sane Jane?

2016

To my dearest,

I believe the definition of what society understands sane to be is distorted. Because I have Bipolar Disorder, I am automatically considered crazy or insane.

The stigma is so great associating the “norm” with Jane is almost an oxymoron. Jane is known to be a general name, widespread and associated with acceptance.

I always wondered why unidentified women were titled “Jane Doe”. From my understanding, “Jane Doe” is not important; ignored then forgotten with no voice of advocacy. The very same as those with mental illness. 

Although much has changed in recent years, the stigma lingers with ignorance.

As an African American, I can say we are the most to deny “Mental Health” as a real issue; let alone a disease. Of course, this is from our history, but the number of young people dying cannot be ignored.

Much fear of speaking out hinders the movement of progress in saving the lives of our people. It is bad enough we are dying by our own, but authority figures as well. I can only speak for myself and the life I fight to keep every day.

xoxo,

My Anxiety

12/2/19

To my dearest, 

My anxiety gets in the way of life, my life. Sometimes I want to talk and nothing comes out. By the time I hear it, dissect it and gather myself I am left without words. Instead I have these questions, the doubt filled questions wondering what this person really meant when they said this or said that?

My anxiety gets in the way of life, my life. It stops me dead in my footsteps when that opportunity to speak and participate arises. See it is happening right now. I am stuck between a thought doubt, and fear. One feeling after the next. It just happens like that. I try to add some reasoning in there somehow but that is a task in itself.

My hands are shaky heart beat a little fast, where is my anxiety medicine? I am instructed to take as needed and that seems to be quite often. Nothing too extreme but enough to knock the edge off, release this tightness in my chest. I use to describe it as somebody stepping on my chest but that’s not the case anymore.

It is as if somebody has taken a fistful of my lungs squeezing them tighter than tight. Twisting them and whispering shut up in between my short breaths. Maybe a little graphic but that’s that. My anxiety gets in the way of life, my life. 

XOXO,

My Depression - 12/2/19

To my dearest, 

I was told to just write,to write without thinking so that’s what I’ll do. I struggle with many things and completing big projects is one of them. My mind becomes busy chaotic, without order and most of the time I drop the ball somewhere. I haven’t really been feeling my best lately but I’m making it. I went to my psychiatrist last week, it went well. I was able to get some meds adjusted thank God because getting out of bed and showering has been horrific. I wake up and my body gets heavier and heavier with each breath. I sink into my bed and gaze out the window wondering how in the hell am I about to get up and gather myself. It’s not always about feeling sad it’s the inability to function that kills me. Life seems to fly when I am unwell yet it moves so slow through my eyes. I can sit in filth and be unbothered. Weird enough I find comfort in my depression. It’s all I have known for so long I am use to it…I don’t know it’s hard to explain. Imagine living in complete darkness 24/7 then boom somebody turns the light on. You would squint your eyes, cover your face because why? It is too bright. 

I have found comfort in my depression. It is expected and has been for some time now. It comes in waves but never seems to completely settle. There is always a lingering thought, “Do I want to live?”, “I am exhausted I can’t today.”, “Where can I hide bundle up and cry?”. This is my life this is what I live with. It is kind of odd seeing it on paper but it is true. Then let’s not forget those other thoughts, the negative self talk is what they call it. “You’re lazy.”, is one of my favs. I hear that on repeat all day everyday, it never seems to fail me. 

But hey on the bright side I am better than I use to be, way better. I can appreciate that. It is not always bad bad, I do have my days where I am up and at it. Getting stuff done and let me tell you I cherish those 24 hours! Feeling capable of getting my life together and completing my to do list is a win in my book. It may seem simple but it is far from. 

I am curious of what life is like without depression. I look at others and wonder; I wonder what it feels like to have one or two bad days. Not so good moments and justified tears. I wonder what it feels like to be free from emotional turmoil and lies. I can’t imagine, but I do wonder. Life without depression, what would that be?

XOXO,