Cognitive Disfunction
Been depressed to varying degrees since adolescence. At 31 I’m terrified of dying of it. It’s a constant struggle, my chances of living to 80 are low If I continue this way. It stems from stress that I went through as an adolescent. Moving to Hampshire was an unmitigated disaster for me. I coped. I did not thrive. It causes headaches daily and it’s these headaches that remind me daily I am not well. I’m not healthy. I may look it. I may act it. But I’m not.
There is something that is killing me. That is a statement of fact. The truth is my body is a marvel. If I had taken better care of it in adolescence, less sugar, less stress, I would be a force of nature that would be unstoppable. My greatest fear is my children burying me early. As someone who buried their father too soon, I know what that can do to someone. There are things I can do. Less phone. More reading, learn languages, healthy eating and exercise. If I dedicate the next 10 years to my health, I may actually live to 80. Because the truth is it won’t even be me that kills myself, that’s what I thought would kill me until 30. Now it will be me wanting to live, live for my children, my husband, but it will be too late. My body will say no more to the abuse. I’m so scared. Because it requires a complete change to everything I do, I love sweet things. But I’m scared of dying, truly my mental health is a matter of life and death. I pray if someone is reading this, that they spend the rest of their lives being kind to their fellow man, more considerate. I am living proof that it can be the difference between life and death. I can feel my brain struggling. My parents didn’t think it a problem to take me from a place where I was allowed to be a child to being an asset that they whipped out as and when they screwed up. And they screwed up often. I’m the sacrificial lamb. My ex was just simply weak and callous, I don’t think he meant to kill me, he thought I would recover. No one ever thinks, “what happens if someone doesn’t recover from me being selfish/weak?” Because that would mean we don’t do what we want, and we all want to do what we want.
So for love of God, whatever dickhead plans are in your head right now. Stop. Don’t lash out. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Don’t steal your child/spouses future. It could mean you have their blood on your hands. To those who have given me stress… don’t come to my funeral. I could be cruel and vengeful and send you a pint of my blood when I die, so you can wash your hands in it. But that is morbid. But I am now old enough to recognise that being born a black woman should be on my birth certificate as well as my death certificate. From a young age I made it my mission to marry outside my community, why? I can’t bear the idea of my children, especially daughters going through what I have. I’m not better than my parents. The only way I will make different decisions is if I make different choices. Give them a different life. Different isn’t a promise of better, but at least it will not be repeating my parents mistakes. I won’t make the same mistakes as my mother. Or my father, if I remove the temptation to screw up. Access to the “black community” will be in small doses and with a focus on the positive elements of being black. Black history, their grandfather. I’m not giving them the full experience. I’m giving them the good so they can make a decision about their history and identity for themselves.
I can and will also do things to extend my life and pray to the almighty that it’s enough to keep me on this earth for long enough that my children won’t suffer the way I have…
God help me
Grace and Courage
Annetta Mother Smith.