I realize that depression never made me feel shame or guilt. Depression makes me introverted and I never apologize for that. I am the baby of the family. My brother is 13 years older than me. He was so amazing that he graduated high school at 16, went on to make adult decisions and moved out by 17. I was then an only child. My dad moved out when I was 3 and I became a young black girl with a single mom. No sweat, life was good. There were blasts of poverty and usually that poverty was tied to some mental health stuff.
My mother is a fucking fairy and she’s bi-polar and I adore her.
She says I’ve tried too hard to not be mad at her, but she doesn’t understand that I understand every nuance and there is nothing to be angry at her about, she’s awesome. I’m sad for the world. I understand the intersections we fell into, that’s all that matters. I'm sad for the world. Click To Tweet
That said, me having to always reconcile has meant that my brain is constantly fixated on every facet of a moment and the future. That is exhausting and sometimes I malfunction. I then feel imprisoned. My greatness reduced to a terrified child, with no cell phone to call my mom if she was gone too long. The embarrassment comes from feeling like I now can’t fulfill something I need to do because anxiety attacks are physical. The shame comes in only recently understanding anxiety in my own brain and realizing ALL the reactions I’ve had towards myself and others that were driven by anxiety. I hope I can let go of my fear of anxiety and find a new way to let it drive when it takes the wheel. I’ve learned how to transmute depression and can manifest anything through a good depression “spell”. Anxiety though, as long as it’s still propelling the great beast of fear, leaves me paralyzed momentarily.
This post was originally on Chezzaon’s IG. You can follow her visual diary by clicking here.