The question that I always ask myself is why I am afraid to say, “I am struggling, mentally I am struggling.” I am vulnerable. I am a danger to myself and everything around me. Why is it difficult to say that? Why is it difficult to break into happy, joyous, dreamy conversations or perhaps grief, economical, inflation conversations we have with, “I am breaking down.” Leaving it as a haunting, demonic thought and feeling. While on the outside, I am a façade waiting to explode. Are you really asking your people how they are doing? What do you cry about? What makes you sad? Heck, I know I am everyone is dealing with a lot, but if you think God has accidentally put us together to coexist, to build meaningful relations, think again. What is it that is meaningful? Is it chasing money, wanting to have this, that, that can never, never be enough. See, I love my God, I love Jesus. He took me out of the gutter, literally. If you see Jesus’s life on earth, what was meaningful to him was us. US ONLY. Now if my community is my treasure, anchored love. Am I there for them? It’s in any relation. At work, am I supportive or just willing to pull a person who is also trying to pay their bills for a close to nothing paycheck? At home, young Black folks, are we creating a peaceful environment, or are we now thinking we are old and being mean to your mother because wena (you) think you can be the only one depressed. No one understands you blah blah blah. Constant hostile situations I make perpetuate my depression. Seek help peacefully. And be the person who constantly asks, “are you really, okay? (Presently).” Then we can have open, peaceful mental health conversations. Nothing that I am going through is new to this world. Let’s talk. Something is wrong with me. I am not crazy and so are you. BE LOVE, RECEIVE LOVE. #Jesusislove #mentalhealthtalksislove
- Lesedi G. Keitsile