The Day after a Life of Depression

I was on twitter this morning and it brought to my attention that today is #WorldMentalHealthDay. I read this tweet from Hadi Kondabolu and it resonated with me.

It felt like this past Sunday, I exited a months-long (lowkey lifelong) relentless depression. Yes I had good days in between and moments of achievement in my career and my physical appearance is improving, but in general I’ve been fighting for my life for months.

They say happiness is a choice and as a person who battles with depression that saying cme off to me as shallow. Like okay Susan good job, you just ended this public health crises with that congratulations. Why didn’t I think of that 🙄

It’s only shallow if you lead with that, but in all honesty I came to the realization of how true that just might be. I had to decide that I deserved to actually experience happiness in my lifetime. In my bones, from within. I’m not talking external gratification. I mean, being the source of my own happiness and love.

I remember I came to this decision in August when my personal life began to fall in shambles. I could either self-destruct and throw in the towel, blame the world for betraying me, and allow my misery to turn me hollow. The suicidal thoughts returned in full force because I truly felt hopeless.

In that moment, I couldn’t see my future or what I was even achieving in my present as I was producing a major show. My brain had convinced me that I was a fraud and that my opportunities would soon run out.

Now I’m no holy-roller, but a girl had to go to church. I needed to hear somebody’s praying grandmomma wailing gospel. After a lifelong battle with this shit, my soul was finally weary. I was tired of being so hard on myself, weary of internally being so vicious to myself.

Miraculously, my friend reached out me because she had a feeling that something was wrong – and I have to say that checking up on your friends is the key to saving a life. I had isolated myself again and it just felt like God had sent me a resource. I was in a puddle on my floor when she called.

I guess I come off as this strong, quirky, funny girl. I don’t like to disarm myself around people, even my closest friends, and realized that too was one of my causes of depression. I rarely let my guard down. As much I create a persona that makes it seem as if I’m an open book, in truth I’m guarded.

I feel like if people knew the real me and the intensity that comes with that, then I’d be unlovable and rejected. It’s better to isolate myself by choice to avoid that altogether. It was a defense mechanism I’ve utilized since adolescence. The more I grew, the more I stayed the same. My spirit had had enough.

My friend introduced me to her friend that told me about free yoga in the park in my neighborhood and that same weekend I attended my first class. It felt like weights were being lifted from my joints to my soul. I didn’t realize how much I don’t BREATHE. I didn’t realize how much I don’t turn off my brain and live in the moment.

I remember that first class looking up into the sky feeling the sun on my face, seeing the clouds and palm trees, hearing the ducks and cranes squak in the distance and realizing “I really moved to California, I live here. I’m living my dream.” Despite going flat broke, despite losing weight, despite being disappointed by heroes, I was living my dream. I’ve been waiting to face these obstacles all of my life because it comes with the territory.

And even upon realizing this – which gave me good days – I still fell back into bouts of sadness because at the end of the day I’m not satisfied until I get what I want. But what is that? I recently had to ask myself.

Because a year ago I wanted this. To live in Los Angeles and establish myself as a producer. Hell a year ago, my dream was to have my own bed. Living in my mother’s home for two years in New York, it was my dream to have my own space. Now I have my own studio, but I forgot how much I wanted this!

My goal now, is to just live for every day. My confidence is only growing because I acknowledge now that I have to choose happiness. I deserve it, I’ve worked pretty hard towards my career and self- development. But it’s about being present. I have to be self-aware of my actions and environment. I’ve had a series of epiphanies that have taught me different things I need to learn about my ways.

I’ve come to terms that I might have this for the rest of my life, but this past Sunday as I looked out my window and played Michael Jackson’s Forever Michael album that saved my adolescent life time and time again, I realized I had come so far from the hot-tempered, angsty, uncertain girl, teen, and young adult that I was.

I feel myself growing more comfortably into my skin, learning patience, staying in touch with friends, and accepting that writing is what will save my life. Acknowledging all of my good, bad, and ugly will save my life.

I told God, the universe, whoever was listening in August that I just want to be free. I just want to create art that will make me feel better. I just want to be surrounded by love and be a source of that. And since that declaration, I’ve paid attention to the new opportunities and people that have appeared in my life.

The source of my depression was that I put too much pressure on myself. If ever I was in a personal crisis, I’d disappear only wanting people to witness me when I’m poppin. It fostered inconsistency and procrastination and that snowballed into a whole nother realm of guilt and the cycle continued.

There’s no cure to this. But at the end of the day, it’s a good life and I’m keeping it. Stay in touch with your people, know when they’re bullshitting. Acknowledge your pain. For me, my pain has been a transition into becoming my best self.

I am truly happy to be me, and for as long as I’ve been sad I can finally appreciate this new era of bad bitchery I’m entering. There may be bad days, but that’s how I know the good ones will be especially lit. On this Mental Health Day, I’m just glad I didn’t give up.

– Carefree Maroon

The Aftermath of Kavanaugh

I, and so many, are currently walking with so much internalized rage due to the direction this country has taken because of the fact that we had a progressive black president. We live and function with so much rage.

I was borne into a world that told me we were Martin Luther King’s dream come true. That finally, after centuries of systemic torture, we lived in a post racial society. I was raised to believe that if you dream you can achieve. I believed in conviction. But this world today mocks my naïveté.

It’s hard living in a world that goes out of its way to negate my existence. It’s a silly world focused on trivial manners. It was all so simple once. Our ancestors were carefree. We don’t know what freedom is.

I have my own goals and dreams that’s hard enough to pull of in a stable society. I want to achieve my purpose and stay focused. But I wonder about the rebels of revolutions past…

They didn’t enter this world with overturning ruling classes as their goal. Their dream lives too were derailed due to conflicts out of their control. Eventually, they were forced to take action in the face of impossible odds.

People don’t fold to oppression, it’s against human nature. The moment comes when tides turn and empires are challenged. Tea ends up in harbors. Slave ships get taken over by its captives. Medieval fortresses get ran up on.

I do believe we are descending upon the horizon of a historic revolution. You can’t double down on centuries of injustice, greed, and unbridled hatred and think things will keep carrying on as is. I look forward to our grandchildren however, because it won’t be us.

We internalized the propaganda that this place is the greatest country on earth and can’t undo it. We think this system is efficient although historically it’s neglected and taken advantage of millions of lives and we don’t want to come to grips with that. We want our dreams and can’t unsee it or abandon it.

I’m no revolutionary. But I can’t deny that it’s coming because hope never folds. Not under any circumstances.

“When dictatorship is a fact, revolution becomes a right.” – Victor Hugo

(Still vote though!)

– Carefree Maroon

Have You Ever Got Thru A Storm & Went APESHIT?

I’m not even gunna bullshit y’all. I’ve been dealing with depression for the past two months and I’ve recently been coming out of it. 

I had an epiphany this past week during my visit back home to New York.  I always knew that although I’m eloquent and can hold interesting conversations, I can’t seem to express my emotions. Especially not in my time of need or darkest hour. Instead I just disappear. I put on a face, I post funny shit online and that’s that. Everything is fine.

But I’ve had to face a series of uncomfortable truths about myself in these past weeks. I had to battle the pressure of my need to be perfect. Like it’s literally the definition of my name. Natsai means “towards perfection” I shit you not.

Continue reading “Have You Ever Got Thru A Storm & Went APESHIT?”

I’m Surrounded By Hoes

I just want a man who knows his worth. There’s so many hoes out here.  I don’t want men who are just freely give their dick away while demanding the benefits of a husband. I don’t respect them and in no way do I wish to burden my life with them.

When it comes to my last situation I admit that I made a fool out of myself. To my disbelief, I fell in love with a hoe. I don’t think men have any idea what they want anymore. They want to be fucked and adored. They want to be taken care of. They want to be treated kindly.

Continue reading “I’m Surrounded By Hoes”

Who Needs Kanye West When We Have Donald Glover?

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Let me just set the tone of this piece with a smooth Kanye can go fuck himself. We have a real genius in the building, totes forgot what that even looked like. Thanks for the refresher Donald! Confidence is being comfortable in your skin and speaking truth to power not just being an arrogant asshole oh yeeeeah…

So this past week I’ve witnessed the final descent of an artist who once inspired me to tell stories. There I was, thirteen years old sitting in the back of my brother’s car minding my business when I heard beats. My neck reacted with that bop & swerve combo blackfolk do when the beat is too clean. I was like, “who is thisssss?” as I swallowed my annoyance at my brother because he kept switching through tracks.

But what sold me were the skits. I went from hearing amazing songs with funny lyrics to a hilarious skit of “Broke Phi Broke” frat brothers stepping in pride. And the cycle just continued. A bop, a laugh – repeat. I couldn’t wait for my brother to pick me up again, so I went out and bought my first album: The College Dropout.

Continue reading “Who Needs Kanye West When We Have Donald Glover?”