For the black women, black girls… i’m grateful…
For that cold winter night, driving with my parents in my late 20’s wondering if now was the right time to tell them. As I sat in the back of the car, I calmly said, over the top 40’s radio station playing, that I needed to talk to someone.
My parents didn’t get it. I then said, “I need to talk speak to a therapist, or something.” Then, silence.
Parents – “Honey, you only need to pray about it.”
Me – “I’ve been praying and my intuition says I need to speak with someone.”
At this point I spent most time in bed, just lying there. I had multiple hankies on hand because I cried about 5 times a day, thinking about how I would do it – take my life.
The next day I called my GP who introduced me to my first psychiatrist. They were older, white & male. I trusted my GP as he knew me since birth. I’m glad i did. My psychiatrist helped me realize a few things that helped me out of a few things… well that and a Duran Duran concert (another story for another day)
My black women who are going through it, suffering, there is hope for you. Reach out to someone, it doesn’t need to be me. I would be ready to support you with resources, options and a listening ear.
Practice self-compassion, kindness and love to yourself and others.
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