I’m Still Here, Somehow… 

Sometimes I wake up and wonder why I’m even still here.

The problem with depression and dealing with anxiety is that I don’t have any other black people, aka black men, that I can talk about my issues with. Black people in general don’t talk about their feelings and emotions let alone most black men. Therapy is not a thing in the black community. It’s a shame because I’ve been in therapy for years and it has worked for me. I dont understand why you wouldn’t want to seek help from someone when you need it. They don’t have to be a therapist. It could be a friend that is or has gone through a similar situation. There is strength in numbers. 

What works for me may not work for others. I get that. Really,  I do. I’m not even here to push therapy on anyone. I mean as an introvert it’s not always easy to talk to someone about how we feel, especially a stranger. It can feel judgmental. That’s how it felt at first. As time went on I became more comfortable with the process. Gotta trust the process. Baby steps, my G. Baby steps. 

So I woke up the other morning actually feeling better than I usual do in the mornings. Of course, this didn’t last long. As soon as I walked in my office I wanted to turn back around and go anywhere. the parking lot, the bathroom, hell anywhere… It didn’t matter as long as I wasn’t there. I didn’t want to be there because they made me the center of attention.  I hate surprises. I like to plan for any and every situation. So the reason for making me the center of attention was because I was sort of promoted to a new position and they were happy for me. So as soon as I walked in they were all already in my office staring at me with balloons and flowers and a cake. Did I tell y’all I hate surprises? I did? Okay, just making sure you know that I HATE SURPRISES! 

I don’t think people truly understand me and how I feel about things. I have a different view on life but I also have a hard time expressing this to people. Especially verbally. I just get flustered and the words I want to say get replaced with words that have nothing to do with how I really feel. Shit’s frustrating, B. I’m working on it but damn. I just want to run away and be alone. Seeing as I’m the only one that knows what I really want to say. Ya know? Uggh, even while I’m trying to write this I can’t explain how I truly feel. So that’s it for now. I’ll be back. 

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