My Uncle Died by Suicide and I Don’t Want You To
A few years ago, my uncle took his own life.
A few years ago, my uncle took his own life.
I shrunk to be digestible, but I’m not meant to be consumed.
When I was growing up, there was no word for what I was experiencing.
"I have to admit what I never wanted to admit. I am addicted."
I probably won’t say, “I’m in a mental health crisis right now” with some laid-out spreadsheet of exactly what I need.
Today, as a Black immigrant in the United States, these words hold an even deeper meaning.
What about one of the most important relationships we’ll ever engage in? Our relationship with ourselves.
If I let it, anxiety will leech all of the color out of me one lie at a time until I can barely stand to be in my own mind.
Sometimes, your presence and willingness to listen are the most comforting things you can offer.
I was desperate, rightfully so, to save my own life.
Depression whispers like the all-knowing authority, especially when I'm tired, when I feel like giving up, or when I've made a mistake.
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