We all know the cliche, "Life is a rollercoaster." One minute you’re up, next minute you're down.
Bulls**t.
Sometimes it legit feels like a ride where you inch up slowly and dramatically shoot down — then boom. It’s over. This was how I felt about life a couple years back. We live in a social media heavy world where the goal is to appear happy. Whether it’s the multiple trips, the new bae or the job advancements, the goal is to show others that you’re “thriving,” just like we presume they are.
Not your story? Cool, lucky you. Sure as hell was mine. I went through significant changes a couple years ago. I was dealing with a failed relationship, financial burdens and lack of fulfillment.
On the surface, it was just growing pains. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like there was more to it than a sit down with your resident Alan Thicke (RIP). I went to the doctor for my yearly check up and explained how I was feeling. I was sleeping 14–20 hours a week, laying up crying constantly, not knowing how to articulate my emotion to someone else. Over the years, I’d been a go-to for so many of my friends, but rarely felt comfortable sharing my pain with others.
Doc hinted at depression, but sent me to get a second opinion. This is something I heard about often, but it was usually tied to seemingly privileged, white young adults. You see the commercials, where everything is gray, then they get a happy pill and the sun comes out. “But I don’t have time to have these feelings”, I thought.
I also often struggled with the idea of big Pharma trapping us in a state of dependence. But more than anything, I needed to be better. I needed to be able to move through my life and affairs with a feeling of purpose again, so I needed to be open to what may lie ahead.
Once a diagnosis was made, I had that initial feeling of relief, but it was quickly shadowed by nerves. My family and friends can’t know about this, right? Acceptance is a funny thing in today’s society, but it is even more complex within the African-American community. Want to take it a step further? Try telling your Caribbean family you’ve been diagnosed with depression. Let me know how that goes for you. My clinically trained, image-conscious mother immediately went into a panic. “What do you mean, depressed?! Oh God what’s been going on? Why haven’t you been talking to me?” I waited on the other end of the phone for her to calm down as I thanked God for the hundreds of miles that separated us. I got as transparent as could be, filling her in on every valley that I was walking through and how I felt. This was probably our most painful conversation to date, but it ended with “I’m glad you told me.” Two years later and she still hasn’t fully wrapped her head around it, but the importance of communication rang true that day.
As people of color, communication is a trait so many of us lack in relationships and within ourselves. Three years ago, my job would probably tell you I was great at it, my ex would tell you I was shit with it and my friends would probably label me somewhere in between. Communicating when something is off is equally as important as when things are good. Theraphy when something is off is also equally as important as when things are good.
A close friend of mine checked in last year and after some growth and medical balancing, I could openly say I wasn’t always OK. I let her in to my frustrations and fears. Little did I know, she was feeling similarly with nobody to talk to. You walk around with this lump in your stomach, hoping nobody can see the pain on your face, hoping that it will just disappear on its own. S**t, if we’re getting hella honest, sometimes I hoped I could just disappear. You must be real with yourself and your loved ones. The weight that lifted off both of us in that moment was strange. Here I was, the emotionally private dude letting out feelings. I hated it and loved it at the same time.
As I rode home, I thought about a song we used to sing in church (quick aside: God helps those who help themselves. But, I digress.) The song goes: If I can help somebody as I pass along, then my living will not be in my vain.
So, I began to talk about it, almost brag about it, but not about the pain of depression. I bragged about the confidence to live in it and past it.
It is said that we all have a purpose in life. I think we have multiple purposes that are untapped often times because of fear of what others would think. Opening up to others allowed people to open up to me in ways they typically can’t with others. I can’t save you, but I can listen and be patient with you. In this world we live in, we’re all in need of healing, but you have to make the choice to heal.
A few days before my birthday this year, someone incredibly special to me asked: What kind of man do you want to be this year? I thought about it for 48 hours. It was practically all I could think about. On the eve of my birthday, I delivered my answer after reflection: I want to be happy.
Basic, right?
I don’t think so.
You have to choose to be happy and it’s not easy to pull yourself into that feeling and state of mind. It is, however, worth it! Happiness helps others in ways we often don’t take the time to see. Other times, we’re simply not taking the time to communicate it.
An artist, whose name we no longer speak, referred to his “illness” as his “superpower.” It’s a choice to put on the armor and fight, but by doing so, you can be that hero someone needs to turn their life around. And that person who turned their life around by your example can then go and save someone’s life. There’s so much strength behind honesty and happiness.
So, in the grand scheme, life actually is a rollercoaster. There are definitely ups and downs — all of it happening with this lump in the pit of your stomach as you hope it will eventually be over. My key to happiness was to let folks on my ride. They help you cope and give you the strength to just lift up your hands and let go. When others see the pictures they show on the screen at the end of my ride, hopefully they’ll be convinced to get on, too.
