The tears rolled down my cheeks and on to my lip; just enough that I could taste the combination of eyeliner and salt. The calming vocals of neo-soul singer Musiq Soulchild played in the background on full blast. I sometimes use the music to drown my thoughts of suicide; but this morning it did not work. I gripped the steering wheel and my mocha knuckles turned shades lighter. “I should just drive this car right off a bridge and be done with life,” I thought.
Here I am a 26 year old mother of two, married for almost three years. To my friends I had it all; the house, the job, the husband, the kids, and even the adorable pet. However, inside I was crying, screaming, and begging for help or a change. There were days when my thoughts consumed me and all I could do was cry on my way to work. I would cry so much that my shirt was soaked. I would then fix my face, adjust my weave, and start my day with a plastic smile. “Good Morning this is Jessica!” “You want to return that part, sure I can help you!”
For some reason it just was not enough this day. I thought about calling in sick and just going home. However, that would not help tomorrow. The same feelings would come up, plus I need the money and I have a home and a family to support. I made it to work, muttered my good mornings, sat at my desk and started to work. The phones rang and the emails flowed, but for some reason, I just wasn’t there. Within minutes I felt like I was hit with a heavy object in my chest. I could not breathe and I panicked. I ran outside hoping no one would see me crying or follow me. I could not stand it anymore, I had to leave for the day. I went to the emergency room only to learn that I was experiencing a panic attack. I was going through a silenced level of depression for at least a year and I told no one. It was obvious that I needed help and I needed it right away.
I went home and searched the internet for hours. I searched for mental health counselors, marriage counselors, and a counselor that I could talk to that would not judge me. I eventually found a local counselor that practiced hypnotherapy. I laughed at first thinking it was a joke, but then realized I was out of options. Once on the phone with this counselor, I explained my thoughts and feelings. I scheduled a session the next day and instantly got to work.
During my session I learned that my depression was more than a birth or two, it was the lack of self-worth and self-love. How could I have been dating and married all this time and not know how to love? I love my children, I love my husband, but I did not love myself. It was evident with my feelings of suicide and all of my fly-by-night efforts to have a body like Beyoncé Knowles. During my sessions I was able to learn about myself and my spiritual view of life. I learned that love is not a blanket term that you throw on everything and everyone. I learned how to use the term and how to show my love the proper way.
The first step was appreciating what I have. Maybe my friends were right. I am lucky that I have a home. I am lucky that I have a source of income, and I am lucky to have a beautiful family. I was so focused on what I did not have that it was plaguing me. It was a problem to me that I was not making the $65,000 that I thought I would make with my master’s degree. I had a problem with the fact that I lived in a small town and every position that I applied for was overlooked because no one knew my last name or my family line.
The next step for me was realizing that asking for help was not a sign a weakness, but a moment of clarity and intelligence. Any fool can suffer and keep their mouth shut. It takes a person who sees no other option and wants a change to request the help that is available. I realized that I was not alone. Maybe I could not express myself to my peers or my family but there is a spiritual deity that is open to listen to my issues and comfort me when I feel alone.
Now, I have experienced a three tier level of love. Love that, even now as I write, causes my eyes to tear. These aren’t the tears that I experienced earlier, but tears of joy. These tears show me that I have been through it and now I am glistening and shining like a diamond. The first level of love was acknowledging and understanding that I have a spiritual father that loves me no matter what. He loves me for who I am and wants to see me do the best. The second level of love is reminding me that I need to love myself. Yes, I have a few extra pounds, and at times I do need to hold my breath and lay completely still to get my jeans buttoned, but when they are on, I look great. This love allows me to accept all 200 pounds of myself; stretch marks and all.
Lastly, the next and final testament of my love is the understanding that I have the most compassionate husband a woman could ever ask for. He dried my tears and held me on the nights when I cried for no reason. During the months and days when all I could see was the end of my life, he loved me and encouraged me to do better. Most women who have not experienced this believe that a love like this only exists in fairy tales. It’s not true ladies, unless I am Cinderella and my husband is prince charming. I would never dream that I could experience such a level of self-love, intimate love, and spiritual love on the level that I have. So, for the woman out there who are reading this and saying “Oh my gosh, that is me!” There is hope and you can and will get over your hurdle.
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