As a little girl I struggled with building strong sustainable relationships with women. 

If you knew my mom, this may actually come as a surprise. My mother has always been the most present and active person in my life. My mom could also shift the energy in the room, whether she filled it with the holy spirit or filled it with pure wrath. Because I was exposed to her wrath compared to others, I carried a sense of insecurity and distrust for her. As a child I noticed things I enjoyed, she despised. Whenever I committed to emulating her she was loving and inviting but if not, I became invisible and undeserving of her presence. My mother, like many parents, struggled to manage her emotions and despite our turbulent relationship I naturally wanted to be close with her. Similarly, my mother faced a lot of stress in my childhood. She worked in male correctional facility while we slept for 8-16 hours at a time. Between sleep deprivation and parental stressors of being a mom she was often aggressive and dismissive to emotions. 

Since I wasn’t close to my mother I clung to my father. My father understood my mother and would act as a diffuser after intense interactions between us. As a child it only bred resentment towards my father because it felt as though he allowed her to mistreat me and then offered me comfort without holding her accountable. I felt as though he taught me how to walk on eggshells instead of trusting my intuition. As a child I began performing in order to receive the love and validation from my mom. As a child, I was also about a foot taller than everyone in my grade, very extroverted, and one, if not the only Black girl in my private school. Although these qualities were a blessing, it was hard to navigate the attention and social expectations. I began suffering from overwhelming anxiety and at the time didn’t understand where it came from or how to cope. I would excel in school and then come home and break down in my closet. Typically afterwards, I would wipe my face and join my family as if everything was okay. For years I thought it was my super power. I would silently praise myself for being able to go through hell by myself and then undetected by people who considered themselves close to me.

As an adult, I’ve grown to understand my mother’s actions while also acknowledging how they crippled me as a child and adolescent. It wasn't until my adult years when I noticed how lost I was maintaining a double life that I can’t remember committing to. This spilled over into every relationship I had and I found myself drawn to the darkest pieces of my childhood in people I chose to surround myself with. Similarly, I found myself looking for characters like my father who would be able to justify the treatment and make it more palatable to endure. 

Unconsciously, I’ve always been in touch with the concept of mental health and the act of empathy was second nature. As a child, I was often praised for my ability to comfort and lead my classmates through hard times. The frequent panic attacks helped me realize I am responsible for doing the work to address them. Although for a long time I knew I needed to handle it in a positive way, I instead embraced alcohol and weed. After having a few suicidal episodes and a routine amount of death in my family, I realized I couldn’t keep handling my mental health the way I had been. After my sophomore year of college I had reached a new level of identity death due the realization that I no longer had to maintain the image I created for my family. This urged me to take advantage of the on campus therapy. Although it was comforting, my therapy days were short lived and I went back to self healing. If I’m being honest I hit rock bottom three more times before I realized my unhappiness came from continuously abandoning myself.

Today, I am learning how to tend to my mental health everyday. Some foundations I've learned are to take frequent breaks, allow emotions to come and go, and most of all giving myself compassion as I show up authentically regardless of others expectations. It became very apparent where my lack of safety stemmed from and how it served as a barrier to be vulnerable— even with myself. Healing is important because I refuse to remain the same. In order to grow and reach the full range of my potential, I have to cut my own dead leaves and release anything draining me of my ability to serve myself. I want to honor my needs and do things I'm passionate about. I know in order to give that to myself, I must practice healthy boundaries. I spent most of my life making sure I took care of everyone else that I stopped taking care of myself. I'm learning to be unapologetic and accepting that I can disappoint people. The more I embrace and operate in grace for myself will ensure I can give and maintain grace for my loved ones.