What You Won't Do

Okay, so this post is more-so about what I won't do. I am so private. Even to the point of being kind of disconnected, slightly robotic. I don't like to feel because feeling lacks control. I like to be in control of my faculties and actions at all times. But that is a different story for a different day. This is about the stuff that I won't say/post/share/like on social media. I know why young people have abandoned Facebook, because everyone is on there. Your momma, supervisor, boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, HR, the mayor, bff, bff that you aren't currently speaking to but still hit like on their posts, first lady and pastor, everybody and I mean everybody but your kids. So us guarded folk leisurely browse, gawk until we see something high minded, Godly, pro-Democratic, about children (Trick luh da kids) or a post that plays on our passion strings so stirringly that before we can hit the backspace button it's doing the electric slide down Mother Jones' timeline.

That's what happened to me yesterday. People, people, people even if we cannot be open books ourselves can we please just celebrate the people who are, especially if they are reaching out for help? Every time someone requests prayer online, a slight green streak of envy (haterization) penetrates my being. Wow, I wish I could do that. And then before I pray for the person, I tell God - The All Knowing, All Seeing, All Powerful Creator, now you know Lord, your child reached out on Facebook requesting prayer, so You kinda gotta hafta Bless 'em, ijs. When people reach out in this manner usually the response is all good, collective sigh of relief. But check out this post from a man that was proceeded by other posts expressing hurt and pain:

Man #1: I HAVE NOTHING TO BE THANKFUL FOR

Woman #1: Your Alive, that's more than Enough

Woman #2: Your breathing right? You can walk, talk, your not in jail or a hospital..your
even able to post that on fb....your not thankful for what?? A bad day? It cld be worse boo, ijs

Woman #5 (I skipped some, believe me it was redundant): Just to know that you
are here on earth another day baby is enough!


Man #1 tries again:  its not enough for me i need more then just living 

Woman #2 goes back in: Your living and able! More than enough to be thankful for....all 
you gotta do is get motivated, your not down and out you just need a jumpstart

Okay so I read his post and have my normal response Green Lightinin' Strike because Wow, I
wish I could do that when I'm feeling low. And I am expecting to read the basics - praying for
you, Bro; bout to call you; I love you; you know I already know what it is, hit me; But instead I get
people telling him to count his toes and his ability to whistle. WTF (Fuchsia) I feel like
hittin' keys, but I don't really know dude and I am thinking they must...Then comes:


Woman #9: If it's not enough.....then YOU make it enough!! Nothing stopping you from
living, but you!!! Keep your head up and push. Find yourself....know what YOU want, need,
desire.....and have fun pursing them:) Did she just yell at him and then smile at the end?

Then I read verbatim, word for word, including punctuation-

Woman #11: U still living unlike My 23 years old Son!!! Was that a rebuke, an accusation,
a cry from her for HELP??? Please pray her.

Dude #1 (He's dude now cause I'm goin in for my peeps) raises the white flag: u right

Woman #ME, okay first a disclaimer, it is bland cause even though I'm down for dude, he don't know me like that (at all) and I am inserting myself all in his mixology, so I said more then I back spaced, didn't I tell yall I'm a lil' stiff: A lot of people have felt they have nothing to be thankful for and a lot of people are feeling that way right now. I am so glad that you were strong enough to express what is on your mind and in your heart. There is everything right with that. Never feel ashamed or afraid to express yourself. I guarantee you have helped someone else feeling the same way. Talk to someone objective, a professional and pray. God Bless.

People people people, I know we don't always have the words but someone in that discourse has had a lil' talk with Jesus. Praying, praying for you, please pray about it - can never go wrong. And I know at least half of those ladies are on a first name basis with a mental health expert, and have the neighborhood psyche ward on speed dial. I gotta number you can call, I see somebody good, I take the purple ones, talk to someone besides us because clearly we do not realize that telling a person they have four limbs does not an epiphany make. 

Most of us (that's just a nicer way to say, you and I) have said what these well-meaning women were telling this man, basically, to man up, but when we know better we can do better. Can we please stop being robots, steel on the outside and afraid to feel on the inside. People we are supposed to cry, hurt, feel and if it gets to be overwhelming and you have the courage to post DO IT! You will be helping someone else afraid to reach out and me or Mother Jones will be pointing out to God, now you know Lord, your child reached out on Facebook requesting prayer, so You kinda gotta hafta Bless 'em, ijs.Yes, even if you are an African American male whose knees bend, survived their 20's, and has WiFi, you have a right to not be alright.  Pray, persist, and talk to a professional.

See, The Way My Brain Works...

Okay, I have this thing where I don't have any good memories. I've done awesome things and been awesome places with awesome people. But my brain does this thing where it only recalls the negative. About six years ago, I went to a psychologist and he gave my brain thing a label and told me to go out and make good memories. And so I did. Okay, it wasn't that simple. But you would be surprised  how much acknowledgement of your "crazy" helps. It's like going from the generic depression to the expensive designer brand that most people cannot afford. Yaaassss, I have Psychopsychosis Onomatopoeia Anamatarosis, and you said you were feeling sad? (knockoff). Now you are wanting details, real names, descriptions, the title of the book that the counselor gave me that changed my life. But my brain does this thing where it doesn't retain data. Soooooo, go get you some! Start with Medicaid, Medicare, Obamacare, a job with Healthcare and see somebody bout that thing your brain is doing. If you live in a state where the Governor refuses to care, damn damn damn damn damn! For some of us, Good Times, is not just a t.v. show. I'll try to find the name of that book.

My mental health is questionable, suspect, shadifull to say the least. But mental health issues carry so many stereotypes and stigmas that even professionals that are supposed to be there to help can sometimes be dismissive. You look "normal", and you haven't donned a superhero suit and done cartwheels down I-90, and you only tried to commit suicide once? when you were a teen? how long ago was that? Ohhhhh, okay. Well, I think this will be our last visit, especially since your short term disability is short term and no, I cannot recommend more time away from the Cray Farm where you work. But I do have a script! Proceeds, to open coat lined with multicolored tablets, capsules, and lozenges. Now, before you get upset with me for disparaging medication, my brain does this thing where it makes everything a co-conspiratorial plot. Doctors are pushers, my noggin warns! Please see first sentence of second paragraph. Everyone is different - I have close friends and family that swear by their anti-depression and behavior modification meds and my dad who is more like me had to take meds when his weeble didn't just wobble but actually fell down. I'm still weeblin' and wobblin'; thanks for asking.

                                                Me singing sanity song - "Jesus Peace"

My point is that Mental Health help is like buying a house, just because your Realtor says the cracks in the walls have nothing to do with foundation issues, doesn't make it true. Get a second opinion. The fissures are real; do not wait until the attic and the cellar unite; all the kings horses and all the kings men... I am Christian, I am African American, and I even wrote a song about Jesus being the source of my sanity. So sing, sing a song, pray and be strong, while you make sure the Psychologist or Psychiatrist that the prayer warriors at your church referred you to is in network. Here's to the Happy Memories! Just don't ask me to recall the particulars. It's a book not a magic wand.

The Infamous Book