mental health

We Go Jim

For the entirety of my life up until college I was living with the view that how society saw me didn’t matter, that I could reach my goals by acting and looking however I wanted. I was naturally skinny and with my tall build I looked like a noodle. My social skills were severely underdeveloped, I wore clothes that didn’t help my appearance, I only showered when I felt like it; for a time my hair looked like I went to the barber and asked for the lamest looking cut they could think of. My first semester living on campus I decided to change that. I started going to the gym. I made a friend there, and we started going to the RAC everyday at 7:00 in the morning. I liked the progress that I saw from working out, and my newfound confidence helped me make friends in my dorm. We went shopping together to buy clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs and three sizes too big on me, and eventually I found that my lame old self that I pitied was gone.

This drastic change in my life has altered the way I view society. Society today has taught us that we don’t need to change ourselves because we are perfect the way we are, but that is simply untrue. Unless you are your best self you should always be changing and bettering yourself in everyway possible; that is evolution. Now whenever I see someone defend their lazy actions it irritates me that they believe that they think the choices they are making are correct. “Oh, I have a fast metabolism, I can’t gain weight!” – eat more, “I don’t have enough time to workout.” – cut out the time wasters from your day; these are statements from people that I regularly see do the absolute minimum to take care of themselves, and prioritize indulging in media instead of being productive. They’re unenergized, they’re not social, and they wonder why they are depressed. They remind me of who I used to be before I started working out, and I truly believe that everyone would be an infinitely better version of themselves if they started to “Go Jim”.

“I’m Not Racist, I Have a Black Friend”
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“I’m Not Racist, I Have a Black Friend”

For years, I have heard everything under the sun when it comes to being one of the “only’s” in my group. As an adopted and mixed biracial child (27-year-old kid at heart currently), who lived in the mountains of Maryland as a teenager, coming to grips with how the world might view me and my curly-headed naivety was rather unnerving. I came to understand the reference of being the token black friend that allowed for the N-word pass or in other cases, being the only black friend in the class, group, seminar, etc. These experiences heavily shaped my perception of what it means to deal with race.

Personally, I am under the belief that Racism and Phenomenology go together and proclaiming to not see racism or ignoring the effects of racism on our current/past generation(s) is just downright sad. Phenomenology, or in my opinion, the study of the first-person point of view, can contextually be used to define how one person may “feel” in multiple facets of life. Regarding racism, are we to ignore any subject or mention of race, because it did not directly relate to our own lives? Or is race completely made up, and another reason for people to divide themselves from another individual or group?

The biggest change in my feelings of being different, and knowing that I was one of the only’s, came to me when I first heard the N-word, with a harsh r, referenced by a classmate in 9th grade. While it wasn’t said to me directly, it made me immediately focus on the issues behind the people who cannot or will not, for the lack of a better term, filter between what is racist and what may just be an awkward-ass conversation. Being raised within a school that was predominately 95% white was different, but fitting in and being myself was never an issue for me. Hearing the term, “I’m not racist, I have a black friend!” or “you’re not a black person, you’re white” was all predicated-on ignorance and a lack of socialization. I didn’t understand at the time, the importance that we placed on color, but I know what I experienced can be directly linked to misguided views and the sum of young adulthood. Looking back, it’s comedy. Which leads to my understanding of what phenomenology is. Color me shocked after spending at least – 30 minutes thinking deeply about what this long word could be condensed into, but I think the first-person point of view is a great example of what this study means.

When it comes to my personal experiences with racism and bigotry, I feel as if the instances I experienced as a child paled in comparison to others. While extreme to some, I would classify these lessons as just that – lessons. I fall somewhere beneath the idea of creating your own destiny and acknowledging the effects that racism may have had on our entire society. Personally, these instances did not break me and made me even stronger. Hell, now that I am slightly older and have experienced a gumbo-sized stew of diversity in Texas, race means nothing to me. We’re all different and accepting people as different is the key.

As a child, I “felt” as if what I experienced was profoundly true. Even if I was the black friend, call it racist or not, what did that other person feel when they muttered the N-word? If it was of no malice, it’s hard for me to take that comment personally. If I meet someone from a completely different location, that had a different lifestyle than I do, how can I not look at them and wonder where their family tree stems from and how that influenced them today? Asking these questions and looking deeper could 1000 percent be me overthinking, but I think that’s exactly what the study of the phenomena is; putting yourself in another person’s perspective and “feeling” (or at least attempting to understand) why they feel the way they do. Hoping for awareness, I have faith that talking and sharing our experiences as a society can aid in the attempt to ensure blatant racism does not continue to effect generations to come.

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Existential Ballet

Black and White Stock Photo of busy pedestrians in an urban city.

Bent, Bashed, Broken… I am nursing my own wounds.

I am stretched out wide but still I am shrunken & overlooked.

Sitting on a throne above the heads of many yet I look each of them in the eye.

I wipe their tears & I hear their cries.

They all want to know the secret of my dances.

Why choose to survive when oppression’s vice grip breaks my bones?

Why does my heart continue its dances?

How do I keep up when the earth never stops spinning while dancing rewinds the clock on my face?

The dances that define my divinity burn within a soul that sings the songs & rule the time.

In that time, wherever I stand that space is mine.

It’s there where the dances are done, & in that space my soul’s songs are sung.

Spinning and Swirling I reach high with hopes of experiencing a new feel & don’t worry, I will.

A remarkable existence if I must say.

An adaptive sway for the intimate encounters that pass by my way.

These are the same dances done by the fire’s flames.

I waltz the same waltz that puddles waltz when it rains.

My tears are called resilience & my beads of sweat are named endurance.

You can master the secret of my dances. Watch me give you reassurance.

The messages might escape you but it’s not of your choosing.

The secret to my dance, is to just keep moving.

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Acting like a female

https://seedandspark-static.s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/images/ProjectImage/000/034/263/large/ALW%20thumbnail%20FINAL%202.jpg?cb=34263

For as long as I can remember, men are not encouraged to be emotional simply because “you don’t want to be a bitch.” It is like an unspoken rule everywhere because it was the case in East Africa, Congo, Jamaica, and now in the United States. I remember back in my early childhood, whenever I fell and hurt myself playing outside, the people around would just whisper “shhh shh stop whining, be a MAN!” It was so engraved in me that every time I saw a boy crying, I would view him as weak, and incompetent; real men don’t cry. However, whenever I saw a girl crying, the first thing I would think of is “I wonder what is wrong with her? Does she need someone to talk to?” As I grew up and started experiencing more of life, I got that revealing moment like “Ok, I see why people cry now.” It’s not a secret that life gets hard. It will get hard for everyone no matter their background, and every once in a while, you will reach a point where you just have to let it all out. 

In my case, I found it difficult to cry, for instance, l will get really emotional but nothing will come out; no tears. So, I will end up forcing it out but to no avail. Next thing you know I’m on YouTube watching sad videos hoping they will pull a tear out of me like my situation isn’t terrible enough. An hour in after doing everything in my power, guess where I end up? On google just like every sensible person. There I typed, “why won’t tears come out when I cry.” The results were varying but I found it funny how one of the results was “you live in a dry climate; therefore, you don’t have a lot of water in the body.” I knew right away that this didn’t apply to me because it was a humid summer evening in Maryland and I sweat all the time. After a considerable amount of reflection and reading sources from mindbodygreen.com, I realized that the reason I won’t fully cry is that I won’t let myself get there, and that is because of all the cultural stigma that has been ingrained in me for years on end. Crying puts you in a vulnerable position and that can be hostile because we grew up seeing people get shamed and called names for simply expressing their emotions. It is very unfortunate that some people end up taking their own lives because they don’t feel comfortable or scared to express their emotions, so they end up burying them deep inside them until they can’t anymore. According to ourworldindata.org, men are twice more likely to commit suicide compared to women and the main reason is that most men would rather take their own lives than put themselves in a vulnerable position like sharing their deep feelings with the people around them. With proper education and awareness, we can eradicate stigmas like this and make it a safe place for everyone to share their feelings and have them be heard by someone. Just like the article by Iris Young Throwing like a girl, some actions and ideas just should have a gender attached to them because not only are they offensive, they can be hostile and take from one’s wellbeing.

on reclaiming your own agency
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on reclaiming your own agency

“Being perfect is boring, failing is fun.”  I’ve been reflecting on that phrase my roommate shared with me a few nights ago.  I had opened up quite a bit about my struggles with managing academic responsibilities with the expectations of my parents, in addition to whatever standards I have set for myself.  Unfortunately, “perfection,” or something close to it, is the end goal I’ve been conditioned to pursue throughout my academic career.  This has been farther compounded by the fact that I earned the title of the smart kid out of my four siblings (I even got the nickname “professor” for at least a year and a half).  Pair this with constantly having others comment on the excellence of your family and siblings, and now I’m not just chasing after perfection for my own sake, but to uphold my family name.   

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A monstrous matryoshka

As I had read Susan Stryker’s article on trans rage and the comparison of Victor Frankenstein’s unfortunate monster, I found myself following each word closely. I had so rarely seen anyone talk so openly about the pains and sorrows that are hidden about transgender identity. The discussion in class presented an extremely important point on who is allowed to show and vocalize strong negative emotions like rage and pain. As a person of color, as a queer and transgender individual, my permission of showing these emotions has been quite small, but looking further inward I know that there are other reasons I am not one to show these emotions. For my last post I call upon Stryker’s voice of these negative emotions and a monstrous identity, but not for my transgender identity, but one I am coming to terms with existing within me. I open up the physical patchwork body of mine to see inwards, within the darkness I see a cage chained to the ground. Moving closer I can hear the rattling of anger, I peer inside the cage to see a gnarled and patched up figure, teeth unnaturally pointed and sharp objects partially embedded in its body. I instinctively know these objects were brandished weapons with the purpose of subduing and killing this figure, but they have failed. This figure was human once and I can’t help the sadness I feel seeing what has become of them.

“What happened to you?” I ask cautiously.

The pause feels deafening.

“I’d think you’d recognize us, not many come back from the war of trauma unscathed.”

It’s said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but no one should be forced to be this strong to the point of being caged in fear.

As an echo to the original article, my comparison of monstrous identity in regards to trauma is not one to be used against all who have trauma. This is my sole reclamation of my past and should never be used against individuals who do not wish to do the same. This post will include raw calls to mental health happenings in response to traumatic experiences. Though there will be no details of happenings, there are insinuations of abuse on varying levels.

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Wrote this when I was sad

I just want to start by saying we don’t know what we are doing , falling into and out of vibes and unparalleled energies. As we try to balance our everyday struggles, constantly distracting ourselves from the stressors of reality and responsibilities. We often find ourselves feeling ways we can’t explain or understand , turning to music that capture every aspect of your situation freakily. You think you’re feeling better yet you’re just being thrown into an endless spiral of constantly being reminded , reminiscent , saddened. As you realize that that flame , that energy , that connection is coming to an end. Your body repulses the idea , your mind questions and berates the idea , you begin to feel in ways you probably never felt before. Then life catches up to you , while the world you created is shattering crashing before your eyes , you forgot about the world where you were created. Schoolwork , work , bills , your everyday commitments now all stalk you waiting to throw the next punch. What do you do?

Find another distraction!?? No. Build another world!?? No. Get up and get out there!? Noo. Sit and take it and try to understand why you feel this way. Unlock your emotions , become in tune with your body. Ground yourself , re-center, and realign yourself.

Realizing your worth , realizing that you have your own path in life, realizing that everyone in this world has their own life , and realizing that you have to focus on yourself. Will be the best thing for you , don’t force anything with time if . Put your focus and energy back into your life , recall all your energy that people have taken from you. Get back on your shit, excuse my French. Tu parle francais ? No , well maybe , but it’s just a saying. Healing your mental body , developing your physical body , nurturing your astral body.

If you’re reading this I just want to say , What are you waiting for?
“Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.” – Dr Seuss

SAY THIS WITH ME

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“You give really good, solid relationship advice.” “Thanks! It’s cause I’ve ruined all my relationships.”: Perhaps better off alone

A photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. A black background with many little, white dots of stars. The center is a large, oval warped into somewhat of a spiral of gray with a large glowing center.

Most people see being told they give good relationship advice and are very considerate to the other people in the relationship as a good thing, but I can’t help that it feels like the bane of my existence currently. It’s like I’m helping people study for relationships and communication 101 and they proudly show me their A with the attached “thanks to your help!” while I shuffle on with my F and backlog of assignments.

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