GLOBAL HEALTH AGING

August 2018 was the worst month of my life. Because what happened seemed to erase all my dreams in one moment, all my mother’s dreams and hard work, all my family’s dreams. One minute, I’m starting to live out my dream of personal and professional growth, the next minute I’m losing it all and spiraling into the depths of despair, fear, and eventually thoughts of deaths.

You see, I’ve always been an optimist with life. Despite my complaints or grumblings about many events, I’ve always had the overall mentality of “I’ll get through it, this is only temporary.” And for some reason, God has also been like that in my life. He’d solve it… always in the nick of time or He’d open a different door later down the road. I just had hope. But what happened on August 2018 and after that, challenged, changed, and destroyed almost all of that. Or maybe I’m reading it wrong. But this isn’t a post about faith, this is a post about wanting to die and finally realizing what has been saving me.

I still want to die. I say it so casually that it doesn’t scare me anymore. Thoughts about illness, dying and death, suffering, etc. consume my mind. Even my proposed PhD study revolves around end-of-life. When I’m at my lowest, and I don’t just mean depressed, I’m talking about dark thoughts and wishing I could harm myself, what sometimes helps me is watching documentaries about gruesome real-life events. We live in a sick world, from fathers throwing their young daughters off a bridge in Australia to men raping and killing two teenagers in the USA. 

When I learn about these events or the sorrows their loved ones still grapple to this day, my heart breaks and I tell myself “It could be worse.” I often say that I was a different person before August 2018 and while that’s true, some of what I do now resembles the old me. I’ve always felt deeply for others going through atrocities, so I tried to learn what I could, and more importantly, help those around me who were suffering. But I never saw myself in that position and especially long-term. It’s a scary and vulnerable place to be. Okay I’m getting off topic.

Apart from crying out to God (it works sometimes, although I wish it was most times) and reading Lamentations (the saddest book in Bible, but I prefer it to the Psalms), here’s what’s been saving me so far. I only realized this yesterday, that I’ve been involved in several things that are or have played a part in still living life. More importantly I thank God (I know this is an irony, but life and faith are complicated) for bringing me these resources at various stages since that fateful day in 2018. 

1. African Communities Together: From their phone calls to providing a lawyer pro-bono, ACT was one of the first organizations that treated me like a human being.

2. Loveland Foundation: I was part of the first pilot cohort of Loveland’s therapy fund, which helped me pay for therapy during the Covid-19 pandemic. Through Loveland, I am now starting free group therapy with Pathlight Mood and Anxiety Center.

3. The Women’s Center: My first therapist was with The Women’s Center and while it didn’t work out, it led me to a different organization that provided therapists that fit well with me. Still, The Women’s Center has tons of other cool resources that I’ve looked through.

4. Therapy for Black Girls: I use this site mainly for its many resources, from videos and podcasts to blogs and social support. They have it all.

5. Twitter and Instagram: I’ve found some kind and resourceful folks on these platforms. I even call some friends even though we’ve never met. They’ve lent a listening ear, provided resources, or reached out when I post crazy stuff. In fact, it was through Twitter that I found out about Loveland and Therapy for Black Girls… and that’s just a tip of the iceberg.

6. Community of Hope: Another organization that treated me like a human being, Through COH, I got new health insurance that has been a life saver. I’ll explain in a different post.

7. Until recently, I used to pen a blog called When Hope Fades about living through trauma, being kind to those suffering silently and loudly, and sharing progress on a memoir. Yes, I’m writing a memoir about my experience, particularly the last few years, but it’s a long, ongoing process, and I take long breaks, so it will be a while before I finish writing it.

But there also are other people that have been there. Some are no longer, others are still here, and I’m not sure why because I don’t deserve them. These people have their lives, but they are still here. For privacy reasons, I won’t mention their names, but you know who you are. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

I still wonder if all of this is futile, if one day I’ll succumb to my thoughts. But when I ask myself, do I really want to die? The answer is yes, no, it’s complicated. Maybe this is where my faith comes in, my vanishing faith, but perhaps just enough to hold on for one more day.

Bo (not her real name) loves baking, decorating, and finds ways to live a slow and gentle life.