This is something hard for me to admit so to the ones who still read this, thanks.
I had a breakdown two weeks straight. I hadn't had one in almost four years since my father passed. As I'm writing this, I'm in bed. The sun is shining and people are moving. I really don't want to see people. The first episode started last week. There are things happening in my life I won't mention here but, it all culmulated Thursday night. I'm putting myself out here, literally, so.. *sighs*I hadn't been back to the gym since returning from Texas earlier in the week. Clothes went and are still unpacked from what someone described as my 'gay army' luggage (it is camoflage with pink, green, black and white). Laundry needing to be done and unfortunately a broken washing machine was taking up space in my basement. These are tasks needed to be done and I didn't want to complete them.
The persona I give off to people is the opposite of what is the internal persona. This is for good reason. I was raised that we never talk about or mention what goes on in our private lives to those outside our door. If there are issues, fix them internally and go about your day. I do that. I do it everyday. I hide behind bubbly masses of smiles and friendliness when in actuality, id rather get out of there. Id rather not talk to you. But on some level, I am a 'people person' and I utilize that get by in life. I force myself to be outgoing because who would really believe a woman like me to suffer from depression?
I uttered it.. Depression. In the African-American community, there is no such word. You can argue me down and give me clinical & professional mumbo jumbo but, its true. They do not acknowledge it. My mom was like, "Oh, you're sad. Get over it!" When I had my last breakdown, I stayed in solitude for a week following my return from Tulsa. The next Thanksgiving, same thing. My door has a hole in it from when my 'loving' mother tried to force herself into the room.
Thanks! Covering up that hole was not an easy task...
I knew something was wrong with me at an early age. My mother was told to 'get me some psychological help' when I was in the 2nd grade. "My daughter doesn't need any shrink! She has me." Eh.. not much help you were lady. Your husband of four years just left you with two kids and a father recovering from Colon Cancer. So, that's when my morbid facinations began. 99% of the music I listened to were by deceased artist. I had no real friends. Heck, sometimes my cousins my age didn't like me. The funny thing was even with the rejection of my peers, I wanted to 'fit-in'. Gaining weight in the 5th grade didn't help much. Kids can be crule. So, I did thinks to keep people away, since they didn't want to voluntarily. I brought my diary to school and 'carelessly' left it on my desk. I started fights(sometimes I didn't) and developed a really snarky & nasty attitude (which, if you piss me off, I still have). Once I left that hell hole & moved to San Diego, I thought things would get better. I excelled even further in my studies(living in books does work) and made new friends.. until I was being bullied by a local gang girl. Then, my grandfather passed and I moved home.
High school, eh. I had just decided to be me. Goth girl, reject, semi-jock, floater, student council rep, singer, etc. I just did what made me happy. Lost 80lbs and then the rumours started. I was on crack, I was doing this & that and whatever nonsense they came up with. The fact was I got a job and the physicality of it made me drop weight. I had my crushes then too. The football players, baseball guys.. But, I was never asked out. Not the typical Black mutt beauty. I had mild breaks in school too. But, I just worked my way through them as I usually do. After high school, I tried pursuing the things I did as a kid(pre-weight gain). And kept my self away from getting into relationships because they had a tendency to go bad. It seemed like from 10 and up, everything went bad. Those things I won't discuss here and only a few, and I do mean a few, know of these things.
In my twenties, I 'blossomed' so to speak. Keeping my weight down and trying to have a life... till I got pregnant. I was sad the entire time. I had a friendship that ended badly, hit so hard I flew across a table because I didn't want to 'socialize' with drunk dope heads, having my roommate's bf hit on me because he liked cream and brown sugar...Being told certain things made me not want to carry him to full term. He wasn't born from mutual love.. More like one-sided and I found it out the hard way. After he was born, I picked myself up and began the process of trying to rebuild myself. With love, I fall hard. So, I made sure I didn't.. until someone popped in and then another break. The rejection was like a razor, slicing its way through my skin. I don't do rejection well. And truthfully, contrary to what people say, it is about you. After that, I didn't want to hear any utterance of love, couples, etc. I shut down. I shut down completely and went into automatic mode.
I still shut down but I switch focus. I live, breathe and walk with blinders on. Welcome to my world. Have a cuppa tea..