A Black Girls Mental Health Story

I still remember the first time I had a panic attack, spring semester of my sophomore year of college. I was in the cafeteria and realized my friends had already left me, I was alone and the feeling that took over me when I realized it was debilitating.  It seemed like a dramatic reaction to be having over something so simple but it didn’t just happen, it happened to me, and the worst had yet to come. That semester I would be plagued with night terrors that would force me awake in the middle of the night to my own screams. Luckily for me my roommate and best friend was a hard sleeper, we’d laugh over it on the weekends while we listened to Lil Kim, she kept me afloat. I remember one night crying on the bathroom floor and to this day I cannot remember what I was crying over, again what just seemed like a very dramatic reaction to something simple. I never seen myself as struggling, I learned to pride myself on keeping together, on being the strong friend not the emotional one, no one ever seen me slip, ever, I made sure of it. I never thought that things were harder for me or that I had gotten the shorter end of the stick, life isn’t easy for any of us and I thought I learned to manage. It also didn’t hit me that I had a harder time opening up to people than my peers, I don’t make friends as easy, my anxiety takes over me while I’m at functions. I’ve been like that since I was little but when you’re younger you’re called shy as you get older shy gets replaced with bougie and stuck up. But I had my people and I was okay with that. It wasn’t until I had graduated college, got my first big girl job, first apartment and still couldn’t find any happiness that I realized something might be wrong. I thought that something was me. 2016 I had my first brush with suicidal ideation, my friends would save me without knowing. I remember getting on the road listening to The Weeknd, another dramatic reaction to something simple I thought. But I realized then just how much I wanted to live. I did everything I could on my own to prove it to myself, I made a promise to work on myself. A year later I would meet someone who would suggest therapy to me but I wasn’t ready and when you’re not ready you take “go to therapy” very offensively, I thought I could handle it on my own. But no matter how hard I worked to shake that dark cloud off of me it would always follow me like clockwork. Managing turned into me running from myself, but I learned what my bad looked like. I learned what slipping looked like for me and how to pull myself out when sadness took over. 

In 2020 I thought it would be a good idea to start therapy to help with my anxiety. My therapist has been one of the best additions to my life, she’s made me realize things about myself that I would not have seen on my own. Like how much not trying to come off as mean or stuck up had turned me into a timid person and how much I needed to work on my confidence. With therapy in my arsenal now I began to hit my stride and 2 years in I thought I had things figured out. Please believe me when I say that I was feeling the best I have ever felt. I wasn’t sad,  I wasn’t struggling, I know what my struggling looks like, I know what my depression looks like, I had begun feeling the best I’ve had in a very long time until I wasn’t. 

Out of no where I noticed a level of irritability that I’ve never experienced before. Every single thing set me off, I was angry over nothing and I couldn’t turn it off. Everything around me that I worked on was starting to slip away from me including my confidence and I was fighting so hard to get back to myself. I had implemented everything to keep me okay candles, supplements for anxiety, light therapy before bed, bubble baths and lots of self care. But I was having very dramatic reactions to simple things again. 

I would soon have a manic episode with psychotic symptoms that would land me on the psych floor of the hospital, diagnosed with bipolar disorder, my second brush with suicidal ideation which was so surprising to me cause not only do I love my life but I want to live. I won’t go into too much detail about my manic episode, but everyone seen it, not only did it happen it happened to me. For almost 48 hours I felt so out of control in my own body, saying and doing things that would leave me the most embarrassing person ever, in front of everyone. Truly living a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. 

But now I have answers, I hate that it happened the way that it did but I’m learning so much about myself and I’m not done yet. For so long I lived with an invisible disability, I knew something was wrong for so long but I couldn’t see it myself. One thing I know for sure, I still love my life and I want to live and now, with help, I can begin to do that. once again, I prevail 👑