When old wounds become FRESH

They say home is where the heart is, but I used to often feel like pieces of my heart somehow had gotten chipped away. I didn't even realize until last year, that I hadn't fully grieved the death of my mother. As I mentioned in a previous post , I don't believe that grief ever truly goes away and this revelation became clear to me this past year. "I'm okay" was just a way of life for me. My false sense of accomplishments was what constantly shielded me from acknowledging my pain. If I kept busy and at least got to grasp an ounce of what I deemed as success then I was okay or at least that was what I told myself. Before I knew it, the volcano of my emotions that I kept tucked away finally exploded. As much as I thought I'd healed, I began to realize I was more broken than I thought.

It quite common to overlook the pain that you've conditioned yourself to tolerate. I began looking deeper within myself I noticed a pattern. I had gotten so used to people close to me dismissing my feelings to the point where I stopped even  acknowledging my feelings at all. It was as if I had four different distorted mirrors facing me and I'd learn to hide my hurt within each disfigured angle. I had gotten so good at building my walls up that I became someone I didn't even recognize.

Once I began to acknowledge the way in which I was shape shifting in plain sight, I began a quest for my true identity. My surroundings were contaminating me so I decided to search for the place where it all began. Who was I at my core? How did the way I acknowledge hurt play a role in the types of relationships I attracted to myself? I never realized how much pent up pain I carried that was deeper than the wounds that merely grazed the surface. I feel like there are so many different levels to the journey of wholeness. As I chipped away at the pride that became my armour over the years, the more I began to uncover how deep my scars were.

The week before I was told of my cousin's death last year, I had a hard time sleeping. I didn't know what it was, but my heart felt heavy for some reason. The day I got the news of her passing was the morning after the night that I didn't sleep at all. The moment I finally got a chance to fall asleep around 6 in the morning, I received a call from a relative from out of town. As I tried to ignore the call till I woke up later, something in me couldn't shake the unneasiness I felt. After tossing and turning for about 5 to 10 minutes, I decided to return my relative's phone call.

It was a week before my mother's birthday when I found out my mother's baby sister's daughter had passed away. It had been awhile since I'd experienced the death of someone so familiar.  After experiencing so much loss at a young age, it was as if I had conditioned myself to be immune to the feeling of loss. What I now realize is that you never truly get used to losing people, but the way you process eventually evolves overtime.

Death has an interesting way of putting into prospective how quick life can be taken. The same person who just liked your facebook or instagram post could be gone the very next day. Just the previous summer, I had ran into my cousin who past away while she was pregnant when I was taking my friend's daughter to get her ears pierced.

Me and my cousin hadn't been the closest over the years, but at one point she lived with me and my mom after the passing of her mom.  It seemed like even later in life, I always managed to run into her at the most random times. Some of the trauma I encountered as a child stemmed from living in a home with her. As I got older, I released the feelings of resentment towards the way she treated me after her mom died. Losing my mother years later, gave me compassion for the way in which she coped.

After my cousin's death, so many began looking to me for support and decisions as if I had somehow assumed the role of our mother in my family without my permission. Before I knew it, I felt like same 15 year old girl that had to plan her mother's funeral and handle the same responsibilities forced on me. All the wounds I tried so hard to cover became fresh again.

I found myself constantly battling between sacrificing my feelings for the well being of others. Ultimately, I had to finally choose myself for once. I made sure I signed the necessary paperwork so that the insurance could cover the funeral cost. Aside from that, I had to take a step away because spreading myself so thin was beginning to take a toll on my mental well being. It was like the weight of the world was on my shoulders and this was finally the straw that broke the camels work. In less than a week my life was turned upside down. I resigned from my job and eventually change my number because it was too much.

Mental illness is not a big enough conversation in the minority community. We've been conditioned to hold so much and disregard our emotions as if everything is okay when it's not. There's a thin line between sanity and insanity. The more that pain and trauma build up, we risk the fate of our mental well being.

I had to lose myself all over again in order to find the best version of myself. Last year, was a season in which I had to learn to set boundaries and unapologetically gaurd my sanity because I nearly lost it all. Never apologize for doing what is best for you. I literally gave all my things away, cut off contact with majority of my friends/family, and left with the clothes on my back. I packed a bag of some of my childhood vhs tapes and photo albums, while leaving the rest in my apartment to be trashed. I took the most important things and turned my back on the rest. My peace was more important than even old memories that my mom worked so hard to keep for me. I had allowed others to nearly rob me of my sanity so for the first time in my life I chose me first.

I could no longer be consumed by what others thought of my choices. I wasn't okay and I ended up naked outside of the Las Vegas airport, I realized just how much I lost my way. In the midst of being out of state and nearly out of my mind, God met me in my wilderness. I no longer had to carry the weight of the world of my crucifix. During the three days that I was hospitalized, I realized who was really in my corner and cared for me.

Don't be afraid to take inventory over your thoughts. No matter how taboo it may seem, you have to make sure that you keep your mental wellness in check. Pride often makes us afraid of being labeled as crazy. Hell, maybe we're all crazy, but so what. Don't let negative stereotypes surrounding mental health keep you from being the best you that you deserve. You do a disservice to others continuing to pour from an empty cup when you're running on empty. It's okay not to be okay or even have it all together, but above anything else make sure you maintain your peace and happiness. The next time you're chatting with a friend, do an energy check and ask how they're really doing. You'd be surprised at how many people you know are fighting the toughest fight against their mental/emotional well being. Let's try to be more present and create more conversations on how we deal with pain so we can create safer spaces to get the proper healing we need.