Hello Followers, it’s been several months since I’ve written about my own personal MH journey. Like the each one of you, life is happening for me.
Mostly, I’m that strong woman… The one all the songs inspire others to become. I do what and in ways that I can. I try my best to be an active listener and supportive friend. I “sleep it off”, ” let it go”, and “leave it in yesterday.” I’m not bragging on myself; but, I am. It’s taken me 31 years of the most intense and confusing points in my life to get here. I have to acknowledge the victory.
It wasn’t easy!! I said years ago, ” If I can survive my childhood, I can handle anything.”
So, God forged forward… His plan for my life was packed with hills and valleys, storms and the most beautiful rainbows.
I remember being my daughter’s age and “knowing”, my siblings and I will drastically leave our childhood home in great distress. I was right. I remember being younger than 8, maybe 6-7, and my sister would talk with me. We’d be in such frustration because nothing made sense. These people who just adopted us were now having babies. Our lives of consistent inconsistency became answering every beacon call of a woman who treated us differently than “her own” kids…day in and day out!
Sure, we had what we needed in life: safety, clothes, food, baths, ex. It was the bare minimum… that’s what we 4 oldest learned to accept and expect. As we grew older, we made some real stupid choices. Did we know better? Did we do it anyway? I’d say all the above… because again, we’re kids with little to NO consistent guidance. Nothing of this world made sense. I know teens don’t really understand the world as we adults do; but, they should understand an age appropriate measure.
On a few occasions, my siblings and I would talk about our biological parents… with our adoptive mom. It felt as if someone took their favorite book… cut out two or three sentences of every couple chapters, and stuck them together on some dull coffee stained paper.
When we were old enough to comprehend it, we grieved the loss of our biological mother. How did it happen? When did it happen? Did she not want us? How did she just leave us at a neighbors? The questions were endless… for years… decades… And no matter how many times we revisited the subject, the details never make sense (go figure, right?). The storyline was choppy, and didn’t seem to fall in chronological order. None of it felt like MY story.. where I came from..
Until two nights ago….
And here we’ve arrived at Brandy’s most current mental stated… deeper in the difficult cycle of grief.. AGAIN!!!
Is this due to the pandemic? Nope! With absolute certainty and strong conviction, I can say that. Is this due to financial difficulties, nope. Not having those either (Praise Jesus🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼). Health problems going on? Nada, well, not really.
No, my worst than sucky attitude is the result of a change in “my reality”… learning one single detail within a time period that’s already so difficult. One that really has fucked up my mental health and overall wellness.
My mother chose to give up her parental rights, for a man who had no intention on staying. When he left, she hurt so much. She missed us kids so badly…
She couldn’t take it anymore…
She didn’t know how to stop the pain.
She intentionally stepped in front of the bus.
Maybe this isn’t my story… it’s hers… ;but, you’ll never understand how much I see the similarities among all our lives and moms.
The struggle with depression has been too real for me.. and for my brothers.
It’s a generation curse, an inheritance that hasn’t made us so lucky.
I’m grieving again. I’m angry again. I question so much again! My ache for my mom.. is stronger than ever. There’s not much I can do about it.
What makes this pill particularly hard to swallow, is my daughter’s dad committed suicide around 07-22- 2015. Another person, who held a huge role in our lives, is gone because they wanted the pain to stop…
Years ago, I was that blond hair little doll, in a simple sundress. I don’t remember her. I don’t remember any of it. I know I want to remember. I know I would soak up every last detail about who I am and that about my roots.
So, right now, I’m working through the stages of grief. I’m in one hella sucky mood; and, I don’t really miss my mom any less.
It’s where I am right now.
“It is not the the bruises on the body that hurt. It is the wounds of the heart and the scars on the mind.”
― Aisha Mirza