G’morning Chums. Welcome to my first self-care post for the month of July. I had intended to get back on track with this segment when July started, but recently I chatted about all of the things that have been affecting my mental health, to the point where finding the inspiration to do them has been non-existent. Anyone who has been following me for a while will know that I don’t like to bullshite here on BiblioNyan, especially when it comes to mental health and self-care. While I had outlined many subjects to discuss for my favourite Sunday routine, without the proper motivation or mind-set, it felt too inauthentic to pen them down. So, when I finally discovered something to talk about that had a deeply emotional connection to my present psychological state-of-mind, I wanted to break my self-care silence and have a chat.
As I mentioned earlier, a few days ago I came forward and spoke about the disaster that has been my depression due to the treatment of POC in the United States today. It was not an easy thing to talk about and I know that it probably was not an easy thing to read either. But that is the current reality in this part of the world. When something like this happens, something that is fucking ingrained into every breath one takes, it can be excruciating to get out of bed let alone to find the willpower to continue with one’s habitual way of life. This is basically what happened to me.
I felt so beaten. No, I feel so fucking beaten down right now. My stress levels, anxiety, and paranoia had become so horrendous that I spent most of the past few weeks in and out of bed. The fear to leave my house still exists. But here’s the thing. No matter how scared I am, or how much I try to protect myself from the atrocities of the world, I can’t, at least not alone, and life sure as hell isn’t going to stop and wait for me to come around. Life isn’t convenient like that. They are a bastard who shall wield a sword of unpredictability and outrageous obstacles time and time again to ensure that you feel the resilience of Time deep, down to the marrows. After this specific train of thought hit my mind, something inside of me unlocked, kind of like in a video game.
Sometimes a person can have all the moral support in the world. Friends, family, colleagues, social communities, and more to lend them a shoulder and to tell them they’re not alone. That this misery or agonising event in their lives won’t last forever. That even though they are face-down in the black tar pits of Rock Bottom, life will get better and they shall find their sense of self and the joy that comes with contentment one day. Yet, the harsh reality is that no amount of moral support and compassionate words from loved ones shall help that person if they aren’t willing to give themselves that same speech. Fortitude comes from within. Willpower is quite literally the control that a person has over themselves to do something or fight impulses that may not be wise for them. It comes from the darkest depths a person has. Their heart, spirit, and soul. No one can help someone if they don’t—on some tiny, molecular level—want to be helped. It may sound cliché, but it’s the Boss Man’s honest truth.
For me personally, this moment punched me in the gut about a day or so ago; very shortly after I shared my current condition actually. By getting it all out, it brought everything I never wanted to admit to the surface. I couldn’t deny what I had been surrounded by any longer. My impulses were to shut-down entirely. Fuck the world, fuck the people, fuck this lame arse fucking existence. I’m done. Words my brain yelled into my consciousness over and over again. Then I got punched. It hit me so hard: I don’t want to give up. I’m not ready to say, “Fuck you, fuck this, fuck life.” Hell, I’ve barely had enough life to live. I began to ponder all the things I had yet to accomplish, everything I’ve worked my brown-skinned, Queer arse off for the past five years.
👊🏾 Obtain my Bachelor’s degree(s) in whatever the hell I’m passionate about.
👊🏾 Become a painter.
👊🏾 Become a published author.
👊🏾 Move to a different place where I can start fresh and gain new experiences.
👊🏾 Travel the world, especially Japan and Scotland.
👊🏾 Fall in love with an extraordinary woman that consumes my soul.
👊🏾 Help Kheb and Azizi navigate mature kitty lives.
👊🏾 Start a cat sanctuary.
👊🏾 Live the best bloody life I can because I fucking earned that shite.
With so many things that have yet to be done, how can I sit here on my arse and feel sorry for myself? Especially when there are other people who may have it worse off than I do? Granted pain is different for anyone and no pain is superior or inferior to others, but I knew that I had privileges many others didn’t. Privileges that I was taking for granted, ignoring, or even not realising I had. Something needed to change. I couldn’t go on sitting in my old and fairly uncomfortable computer chair feeling like this anymore. Pity and self-deprecation were not an option for me any longer. It was time for a serious fucking pep-talk.
Pep-talks are easy to do when it’s directed at people that we care about who aren’t us. My friends are my family, so buckling down and giving them a harsh dose of reality, or just a cheery enthusiastic shove in the arse, have never been hard for me to do. However, when it comes to giving one to myself, it’s a whole different sport altogether. From Formula 1 to put-putting into a brick wall. But I did it, nonetheless.
While sitting in this chair, I intertwined my fidgety phalanges and said this:
Look, you need to fucking stop. Yes, life is goddamned terrifying right now and who knows how long things like shall go on. Hell, shite will get worse before it gets better. History has shown us that time and time again. But by you sitting here and worrying about it to the point where you become an invalid is not going to help the world. The world will keep on fucking itself while you’re wasting away. STOP, right now. You are a strong person. You have been through so much and now look at you. You have a successful blog. You’re writing a book. A fricking book! You’re going back to school and one day you’ll end up in distant places. Hell, you may even get to marry Lilly Singh one day! But none of that is going to happen if you sit here, stewing in your own inadequacies and fears. It’s time you picked yourself up and began fighting for your existence to mean something to you.”
I went on a bit, making an attempt at inspiring myself to focus on getting healthy again (a feat I had completely abandoned in January and something that contributed heavily to my current mental conditions); to work and hustle even harder than I have been for my dreams to come true; to trust in my intelligence and know that I am a smart person, a capable person who can make every dream of theirs a reality as long as I didn’t give up. By the end of this slightly awkward self-pep-speech, I felt so much better.
The most surprising parts of conquering obstacles in our path is when action comes from us for us. Honestly, I didn’t think that little chat would work, but it did. Vocalising these things out loud made me understand that I the capacity within me to feel positive and that efforts made toward it wouldn’t be in vain. For the first time in months I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Being steeped so heavily in negativity and fear had completely clouded my ability to perceive the light that surrounded it. It made me lose my sense of self and my direction in life, something I had painstakingly spent five years working on. To have these disrupted pieces fall back into place—granted those pieces are a bit murky and unstable because it’ll be a work in progress until I’m one-hundred-percent again—was the most inspiring feeling in the world. It was also stupendously comforting and empowering.
The take-away from this is that pep-talks do work. They are the extremely onerous when they are from you for you, however they are supremely worth all that effort and energy. Giving yourself a pep-talk may also come off as being ridiculously cheesy, sort of like a 90s family sitcom (looking at you Boy Meets World), but honestly those are the best kinds of chats to have. Ones that make us uncomfortable in the moment and maybe even feel a little goofy. Taking that step outside of what’s safe and “normal” helps us perceive a world outside of our own. That small taste of the outside, specifically the possibilities and the potential of it, can help us see that our loved ones were right all along. It doesn’t last forever, even if it may seem like it right now. You just have to have the willpower to say “NO” to those negative and toxic impulses, the ones threatening to strap you into the tar pit of Rock Bottom forever. Instead of, “Fuck life,” try “Fuck you Rock Bottom. You will never defeat me.” Or in my case, “Fuck you, Nyan, for being so miserable. Fuck your pain and fuck your pity party. You don’t need this. Start clawing your way out. You can do it.” Believe me, chums, when I say that I wholeheartedly believe that you can do it too.
Thank you so much for visiting me today! I appreciate your support. I wish you a lovely day ahead.
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