On Black Men, Depression and Life Pt 4: Things Fall Apart and the Rebuilding of Self

"These walls have a sobering effect" ~TLT

I knew it was going to happen. I was warned that if I continued to fight this war and push myself my engine would finally conk out. I was told to accept the changes and get over it; to accept that she wasn't coming back and to pray until I healed. I was advised to monitor my associations, not to make deals with devils and to take some time off.

I didn't listen and finally the Battle Weary Solider fell. My engine gave out. I was broken.

Almost 2 months past the time when I should have I finally took the mental health break I needed and had to and checked into a "facility", nothing high tech or overly locked down, but someplace where I could restore my mind, cry and heal...in peace.

It is now time to truly begin the long (perhaps) and much needed (indeed) process of healing. The Love Supreme Crisis and all of its contents and variations almost killed me; rather I almost allowed it to kill me.

S0 what finally pushed me to the point, that point where I was about to do something I would regret, do something that would leave a legacy I could never erase?

I simply read something and it hurt. To keep with my Star Trek motif: I took a shot to my hull that basically wrecked my ship, the thought of "him" in that place drives me crazy...rather it did. I just couldn't accept it. I couldn't believe that after all the assurances to the contrary, the ultimate mind fuck had happened, that she went back. In essence I felt devastated, I assumed the worst case scenario had happened and I just lost it. I was hurt beyond repair and I just couldn't function. You add this news to of my new "responsibility" to my life, the mounting debt and my already depressed mental state and you have a fall. But you know what: I needed that fall, I needed to finally give out and I needed to go. My emotions were rolling and I was making myself sick and tired.

So I begin to put my machinations in order, called two friends and just left. For six days I didn't have any contact with the outside world, no Blackberry, no Facebook, no blog. It was just me, Jehovah, therapy and some real good cries.

It was a well needed respite, a moment to begin to heal in earnest; to reevaluate old and develop new coping skills. The last point is important as sometimes our lives and coping skills become like our shampoo; use them long enough and they no longer get the job done like they should. I was able to re-set some buttons. While I was uh...immobilized I took a personal inventory. I was able to assets my strengths and weaknesses; to truly find out who I am and how I can to be. I learned that my emotions are one my strengths, a source of incredible power, second only to my logic. I learned that I am a natural leader. And I learned that when most people scream "to blessed to be stressed" that usually means to scared to care.

But I also learned that my greatest weakness is my arrogance, that I am too bound by rules and traditions and there are times were the needs of the many don't outweigh the needs of the one. I can and should say no; and while I have been hurt by people carrying flagging the "individualism" banner, not everybody who does so will hurt me, nor is it a reason to abandon my individuality. I have accepted that being broke sucks, yet it doesn't make me less of man, that new responsibilities aren't bad and that despite what the Black Community and Church says depression is real.

I also learned that is OK, perfectly OK to mourn (the) Queen, her loss has reverberated through my life. It is OK to take my time to heal. It is OK to cry and not go to fast. In fact I learned if I didn't do these things then my emotions probably wasn't real to begin with.

Take my time and mourn. I've never done that, hell I barely mourn. But I think I'm going to head that in earnest. I am just come out of the eye of the storm; "The Love Supreme Crisis" was the darkest time in my life to this point, worst than "The Long Night", more frustrating than the "Second Renaissance", and even sadder than "A Death in the Family". It touched my soul, broke me and redefined me all at once. As painful as it is/was, I am and will be a better man for it.

But even in those tears, there is a path to self healing. On June 20th 2009, I finally sat down...to tired to continue and today, almost 7 days later, I come out of a place of healing, my eyes returned to normal, my smile returning and for the first time in a long while consistent clarity.

Its a nice day and I've so dearly missed my children. I do think I am going to stop here prepare to visit them...in a moment.

I'll post my final thoughts on the 90 day anniversary...on July 4th

But right NOW I will have some toast and tea, sit in the Sun, talk to Jehovah, pray for my friends, pray for (the) Queen, my children..and have one last cry...before as Brian McKnight once said "I leave it all behind ".

See you in a few days blogspot...
;-)

It is good to be home.

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
06-26-2009
2:31pm

On Black Men, Depression and Life Pt.1: An Introduction

There are many factors to consider when discussing depression in the Black Community:

• First, because of the racism in psychology and non profit there is not a lot of work done on the Black mind, as it relates to mental health, society and our stations
• Second, how the concept of mental health is treated against cultural norms, IE the church and how one address problems
• Third, the stigma of admitting one has mental health issues and how it impacts the best and worst of us in the Black Community.

Before I start this discussion let me first be open and honest: I suffer from clinical depression. So not only is this an academic piece, it is a personal one, written by a man who is currently in the middle of a major depression and struggling with answers. I understand that by opening saying that to the general public in particular and the Black Community in specific I am going to be subject to extreme judgments, ridicule, fear, banishment and anything else we can think of.

So why then openly talk about it? Well I honestly have learned during the Love Supreme Crisis that the Black Community does not understand depression. This was evident how my network responded: at best I was told to pray it away, at worst clowned. It was even more evident in how (the) queen looked(s) at me; she really believes me to be some kind of monster hell bent on making her unhappy and hell bent on spreading sadness. Neither of these paradigms are true. To be concise, a majority of our people depression honestly believe that depression is caused by one of three things: A lack of FAITH, low self-esteem and/or a lack of toughness. Depression as seen in the Black community is nothing more than the blues, part of our lot in life, side effects of our racial oppression and really needs to be taken in stride and with that one "has to keep their head up."

I understand that. Again, in my own personal context, depression has been oft times dismissed as a quirk, something to set me up for jokes later, and really nothing more than "T" being weak. Even now at a time where I truly need spiritual and emotional uplifting I am surrounded, like Job, by a series of "troublesome comforters"; men and women who offer their opinion regardless of the facts laid out before them. In their eyes all of this "depression" is over a woman, I need to move on and suck it up. I'll admit this was the final straw in a series of unfortunate events, the knockout blow to a wobbly boxer. I also think it is the focus because it is the most public of my trials; matters of the heart always garners attention.

However do not be mislead; losing (the) Queen was a major painful event, but by no means it is the only event. That is one of the reasons I am undertaking this task. I want people to understand this isn't some love sick moment. This shit was coming on before April 4th. I want people to see that depression isn't something you wish away, pray away or ignore. It is serious like cancer or heart disease and must be tackled openly. It is my hope that my that talking about it from the in the moment perspective will change some ideas on depression in Black men and help you all help us and not turn away.

There is one other reason, and perhaps the most important reason I am writing this series: I want it to be my living testament, my account of the Love Supreme removed from the emotions of the earlier blogs, but no less honest and candid. I did not properly document my journey before, during and after "The Long Night". I regret that. But now, this current crisis which I am putting under the "Love Supreme" banner has surpassed that in sadness and despair. Even as I write this I feel alone, empty and very sad. There are days I want to put a gun in my mouth and do it, and there are days I want to keep fighting. There are days when I think about my life and get so sad, I weep bitterly and there are days when I try to find the good things, like my sons about my life.

My sons are the ultimate reason behind this series, because should I fall I know that I will be vilified and branded. I want something written in real time by me to show that I was neither weak nor selfish; I was just a man who lost a lot of friends, a loved one and in the process died emotionally. I want them to know that I fought until the final bell and that I would never ever have quit on them unless there was no more fight. So this is, should the worse happen, my written testament to CJ and Debo. Of course, I'm not aspiring for the worst.

Let me reiterate: I also write because I hope my words can touch someone else in need. I know about this isolation, I know about this darkness. We are apart of a rich culture, being African Americans yet in that culture is a lot of ignorance. Mental Health challenges often are scorned as I said before and even admitting to them violates two major Black Tenets: Keep praying and suffer in silence.

There isn't a lot of help for us, but yet the signs are all in our community. To the "happy" people in our community, we're just low self esteem having, non positive, evil weirdos who deserve to be locked in a corner. Depression is the antithesis of Black Manhood and Blackness, we're not supposed to be phased.

But we are phased deeply. We're not monsters or killers. We ain't gonna hurt nobody (if I had a dime for every time I've heard that in regards to my depression or any other man's depression I'd buy a sports team) in fact is scientifically proven we're more likely to harm ourselves than anybody else. We are simple men who just stay sad longer, hurt longer and work harder navigating the mine field of life.

I sound like an after school special. I just know that clinical depression is real and I think for those of you who are open minded will appreciate this journey and come away with something rich and helpful....

I am also aware that there are those who continue to see me as a villain, a crazed weak man. I cant worry about that audience.

One final thought: This blog has been in the works for some time, and each time I've tried as much as I could to remove more and more self serving emotions. This IS NOT an attempt to sway or convince anybody, it is not about her. I am not trying to cast blame or make people feel sorry for me. I am only trying to educate.

Enjoy the next few blogs. There are my stories. This is my confession, walk with me on this journey.

Straight, No Chaser

TLT

6-17-2009

11:30am

"Taking the Easy Way" or "On my terms"or "This Right HERE is Some Bullshit"

"I have dreamed a dream and now that dream is gone from me." ~Morpheus

Let me state that I'm not blaming anybody. I am not putting my emotional sadness and distress on anyone. This is not a fault finding piece.

I'm just writing and venting. My eyes are swollen from tears and lack of sleep. I don't want to call any friends because I don't want to hear any platitudes.

I'm officially in trouble. I know this and at the same time I'm uncertain of how to stop it. If you take the Battle Weary feeling I had this summer, multiply it by 35 then you have the emotional depths I have sunken too in thirty days.

I realize that when my suns cant even make me smile, when I have to pull over on the Dan Ryan for ten minutes to cry that I am in trouble.

There is a battle for my soul and I am unsure of the outcome. Part of me keeps saying that I will answer the bell every round and give it my all; but there is another part of me that wants to take the gloves off and quit.

I'm frustrated, isolated (by choice), not sleeping, barely eating, suffering from nightmares, migraines, sad and heartbroken confused. I realize tonight while crying on the expressway I am heartbroken .

Right now I feel worse than when my dad died. I am struggling.

For the first time in a looooooooooong time I honestly thought about killing myself tonight. What did Scarface once rhyme? "Bang and get it ova with. Then I'm worried free..but that's bullshit"

Fear of the unknown keeps me from walking down this dark path. What would be said the morning after? Would I be villianized further? Would it silence my shame or intensify it? And what of my suns? And its bullshit to go out that way but still......I keep thinking of them.....

My heirs, my lifeline in this sea of emotions. The only two people I can hug and not be judged and seen as weak.

or whack.

or lost.

or unhappy.

or unstable.

Because I am in serious mourning and enduring a trial.

Trials.....

I tried to read the bible tonight, but I couldn't focus. So many emotions and memories swimming in my head. So many voices.

I've lost a lot this past month. More than you or anybody will care to know or maybe understand.

I honestly can only think of one person who may understand. Irony. Its a bitch to lose a dream.

Perhaps, I just need to sleep. Then maybe my imagination will stop running wild, maybe my feelings of inadequacy will go away, maybe the memories will silence the voices and whispers.And maybe my imagnation will stop running wild.

I need to lay down. Tomorrow I have to get up and help my suns plan mothers day for their mother. I have to answer the bell.

I have to fight the darkness....but honestly, I.so.tired.

I'm going to go try to sleep now.

Goodnight my unpaid snarky mofo therapist reader(s),

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
5-9-2009
11:15pm