She Held Me

This evening I felt the weight of the world crash me, my knees buckled as my body turned into a slushy mess, my guardian angel held me as we broke all social distancing protocol. She held me as I sobbed uncontrollably, she held me as my tears sullied her coat, she held me as if her life depended on it.

The pain I felt like a dagger piercing through my back into my heart, little pieces falling into the abyss. She held me tight as I picked each piece, bit by bit.

For some unusual reason this morning I had decided to carry my rose quartz crystal a heart chakra stone, a crystal of unconditional love, forgiveness, compassion and happiness. This was peculiar because I was filming and didn’t really need to be faffing with anything, I put it in my pocket and went about my day forgetting it almost entirely apart from the odd time I went into in my pocket. 

I was looking forward to a games night tonight with my cousin and a few friends, I watched as it grew bigger but thought nothing of it. I joined the meeting late after losing track of time, already feeling on high alert I turned off the camera and mic that way I was there at least as a spectator chiming in on my turn. After a round of  ‘Who wants to be a Millionaire’ and a moment of  ‘deeping it’ I noticed my laboured breathing as I struggled to breathe, I felt a wave wash over me, luckily I was in the chair or I would have collapsed. 

Noises came out of me and she turned to look at me while putting on her jacket, as I desperately tried to remember how to get air into me. She lifted me and held me, I gasped as the air began to fill my lungs. In that moment I was grateful, I had made it out before and could make it out again, I didn’t do it alone and I don’t have to now. 

I cried for what felt like hours, the stagnant energy truly flashed out. Eventually, I stopped sobbing and my body took this as an opportunity to shake violently, she held me still, as it slowed to a shivering shake akin to going out in autumn without a jacket. I gained back control and was able to hear her repetitive affirmations, and they felt like the finishing touch to the internal rebuilding that was occurring internally.  

She held me when I tried to wiggle out of her embrace until I used some force to free myself, she backed off and immediately cracked a joke, this made me cry a little, she gets it. I quickly stopped crying as I joined in the giggles, my attempts at escaping her embrace failing. 

This afternoon before she left for work she couldn’t find her usual energising stone she carries to work, instead picking the tourmaline crystal, a grounding and security stone. She popped it in her bra and went about her day. 

Coincidence? I think not, God, the universe, Allah - however you choose to refer- puts the right people, with the right skills at the right time in our lives. Seeing her today felt urgent it was something I had to make sure I did if nothing else, I didn’t understand why because nothing new had happened since I spoke to her last. 

She came, we spoke, we laughed, it happened. None of us was ready for what happened. When she described it back to me the image of a controlled demolition came to mind. 

I needed her, she was strong enough to hold me and was the pillar I needed to lean on as I gathered my strength to stand tall. Without her, I would have fallen into the abyss.

The burden of mental health is a heavy one, each day fighting to remind yourself you are bigger than what you are facing. 

I spend more time inward as I nurture my love of plants, creativity, movement and learning. I am learning what being a spiritual being having a physical experience means to me. I am learning I must let the wave pass and not be attached to it, I must mourn what was and what could have been and let it go. I must remember to be grateful for I am in the here and now, where I have the power. I am safe, this is momentary, even if the moment seems long,  it too shall pass, it always passes. 

We can’t stop and risk being consumed, we have to do what we have to do, but must remember most importantly that we have to keep going, by any means necessary. Tell your friend, tell your family, tell somebody you must. 

You have this.

I am relieved every time someone doesn’t ‘get' mental health, that lost eye and confused tone brings me relief because I couldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.  I am also learning that you have to make it make sense to you, only you will know what works for you. Whatever that looks like has to make sense only to you only applies if it isn’t harming you or anyone else in the long run. 

I feel good.  Stronger, taking it day by day moment by moment. 

I can only do what I can do with the skills and tools I have. 

A year 7 student can not be expected to complete correctly the work of a 2nd year uni student. 

This too is growth.

American Sitcom

'What is Sister, Sister.' 

As I put on my Vaseline while looking out the window - to my surprise and frustration I thought - imagine if the roof just caved in, on you. Right now, this moment. Finished.   

My sisters are the most precious things to me in this world, the greatest team I have belonged to. I would move mountains and kill beasts with my bare hands to honour them.  

Since all this has been going down the one person I feel I am constantly letting down is my sister, she is the most wonderful person to grace this world and I am not saying this because she is my sister.  

I have spent numerous nights hoping and wishing my illness does not have an impact on her. I have spent many hours praying she never understands what I am going through.  

On my darkest bleakest days she is the silver lining. I don't think she will ever understand what she gave me when I had nothing to give to myself.

The gist of it all.

In front of me a new employee is trained by a manager, next to them a colleague has searched 'cancer' into his email. Opposite the manager is a young man staring at his computer, most likely not looking at a work related screen. Next to him is a man whose head I can only see the top of and behind him two, one on his phone one in his emails. In front of me there's 12 or so rows where this or scenes like this play out.  And behind me a mere 4 rows.  

If it hasn’t dawned on you yet, I am in an open plan office. Where the day starts with murmured greetings, tapping keyboards, polyphonic ringtones, numerous phone calls occurring simultaneously, sneezing - Jesus so much sneezing-, whispering, tapping, knocking, chewing, every type of noise imaginable, at every level of irritation.  

You wouldn’t be mistaken if you walked in and immediately visualized a greenhouse, with the large double glazed windows, the orange toned lighting. The only thing that grows in this greenhouse is the toxicity that is fertilized from the higher echelons of management and allowed to sip its way through to very depot, department and team.  

The swirling chairs and the cleared throats that make way for whispering are one of the most sinister aspects of working in an open office environment, at my particular office some of the whispers include, judging colleagues' ability to provide for their children – nothing prompted this, no unusual bruising on a child's shin, not a wayward comment about a child, nothing-, how black guys are thieves – the man applied for a job-, giggles were shared when they suspected a slimmer framed workmate had an eating disorder-  this prompted interrogation every time food was mentioned or seen, and my personal favourite – two black colleagues cannot be friends, unless they fuck. Obviously this is simply scratching the surface of the whispering.  

Spending 12 month where I am, I am convinced that there is some kind of mass hysteria. 

Initially all the cold sweats, the pains, the dizziness, tight chest, the faintness, was explained by something, maybe my sugar levels too low, the broken sleep got a lot of the slack, I would catch colds and flus like it was nothing. Always tired and frustrated I started to take vitamins in hopes once my vitamins are at least levelled I would be energetic at least. Or so I thought.  

One morning while laid in bed, my alarm went off. Unbeknownst to me this was the start of an ugly ugly wake up style.  

With my heavy heart weighing heavy on my chest, like sleep paralysis, but all I could see was the carpark at work, and the large purple logo engulfing me and my car. I giggle now but believe me it's scary as fuck.  

It was then it dawned on me I was anxiously depressed from Monday to Friday from 6-6 and free on the weekends and days off. My mental health was affected in shifts I thought it was great and would make it manageable. My triggers were clearly work.  

While I was trying to get my head around this new epiphany,  the whispers intensified and because I was tired, tirreeeeeeed. I got HR and my line manager involved I couldn’t be coming for work always feeling like one more polyphonic ringtone would make me jab a homemade pen worked into a prison style shank to the neck of the nearest fucker.  

Then they told me all my feelings were just opinion and I shouldn’t care what others think of me. I sat in that room fighting back tears. So I did what I had to do and kept coming to cesspool of toxicity.  

Months passed and I was barely coping at work, but who would listen if I spoke up again, I just had to make sure my life outside work was full of life and joy. Only that there is no such thing as work life and life, FAM its all just life.  

Essentially this is about how my 'work life' and life started to merge in violence - metaphorically- and my brain became a cocoon of misery. Side note - cocoon is a weird word coz sounds more like ca-coon, anyway English is not my mother tongue languages.

The depression and anxiety I was feeling at work started to linger, it wouldn’t leave at 6pm and would already be there before 6am, everything I was doing outside work to try and fulfil my life started to feel emotionally taxing and physically no amount of 'doing nothing' weekends energised me. My appetite had practically disappeared and I was essentially force feeding myself, my gynaecologist told me my job will kill me if I wasn't careful, I joked and asked if he would pay my bills, then promptly directed his attention to my spread legs, thats what he was to exam not my work situation. The weight melted off me and people congratulated me on my weight loss, a change in weight I didn't really care for as it was a result of my failing mental health rather than disciplined training and eating. But I would smile and say 'oh thanks', and strike one fierce pose, laughing internally at the ridiculousness of the situation. My mind couldn't think past the next sentence, I was unable to think or even compile coherent sentences,just dropping adlibs, like I was a lil Jon tribute act. 

I still couldn’t say more at work, so they can tell me again that it is in my head? Nuh mate, not gonna waste my time.  

 Instead I kept applying for the few jobs that were around, but not one of them resulted in an interview in anything, now my depression and anxiety cannot and does not take rejection well. I was rejected left right and centre. I couldn’t do it anymore.  

Then the survey came.   

I was perplexed when the managers expressed the disappointment in the results. Turns out I am not the only person who was unhappy in the department. Was anyone going to apologies or at least acknowledge that they swept my concerns under the rug? Was anyone now going to try to get to the bottom of this? Was there anything to change these conditions? If the people who soured the place in the first place are now saying they don’t like it where do you go? Will the western world acknowledge the human rights violations they oversee to protect their worldview? Will the Zambian president put his people's needs above his own? Okay I got carried away. Lets pretend I was hopeful.  

Instead a group meeting where the anonymous survey was questioned for authenticity, where instead of actively trying to look at ways of improving the conditions, people where aggressively questioned about their presence at work if they don’t like it that much. As if anyone's bills will say "forget about me, I am going to take some time  while you work out your work situation".  

My job was killing me, I still need to find a new job.

My job was emotionally ruining me, I would roll my eyes when watching sad stuff. 

I had a breakdown.  

I actively remind myself to eat.  

I occasionally have paralysing anxiety at the thought of being at work.

I was stuck at work with no feasible way out. 

Then my doctor signed me off.

I spent the time reminding myself I am the baddest EVER, with the help of my loved ones obviously big up yourselves. Not to brag but I am pretty cool, ask my harem.

While my experience is not unique but is valid.  

P.s - dude do not let these 'systems' kill you sha, go get that time to rediscover yourself coz the butterfly that flies out that CACOON is worth protecting, celebrating, loving and thriving. It's no longer enough to just live sis, lets motherucking THRIVE.

Keep the people who be blowing your horn when you don't have the strength to do it yourself, they celebrate the hardest when you back to blowing your own.

Peace Out.

p.p.s I postponed my masturbation to rewrite this and I must say time well spent. 

Isms, Phobias and Us

'Well to be honest I voted Brexit because I have had enough of the immigrants, she says this nonchalantly as she sips her tea. Milky, one sugar, as the rest of the group grunts in agreement, the conversation moves to detailed talk of immigrants coming for their jobs, schools and what have you. It's at this point I can't help but roll my eyes in frustration.  

This essentially is a safe space, a place where trans, and questioning people can come for support, and to socialise. Imagine a young black second generation person desperately looking for a safe space walking into that. 

Its undeniable that racism is as British as beans on toast, Islamophobia, homophobia and sexism as British as chicken tikka masala.  

Why we act shocked, flabbergasted bamboozled, when we find out that trans women of colour are at the worse end of anti trans violent sentiment is beyond me.

The lack of UK statistics and studies concerning trans people and particularly trans people of colour, means we relay extensively on figures produced in the USA as a starting point, both countries are built on structural and systematic racism, its safe to assume the findings will not differ drastically. 

While the details of individual cases aren't always readily available, the intersections of race, gender, sexual identity and transphobia conspire to deprive trans people access to employment, housing, healthcare and other necessities, this coupled with reports of islamaphobia and racism in trans spaces, people of colour will join groups and not last long within them, isolating them further.

My friends of colour can go into detailed analysis of the systematic racism and my queer identifying friends can speak candidly of the homophobia in straight places and how they feel this limits them. However whenever we speak of the injustices faced by trans women and especially black trans women all the aforementioned groups act as though their homophobia, racism and bigotry do not push these women to the barren outlands of society.  

When 49% of a population group reports having contemplated suicide and 41% of the same group reporting homelessness at what point does the urgency for action come into play. According to a 2018 USA study in conjunction with National LGBTQ Taskforce the National centre for Transgender Equality.

Open Office Fishbowl

The day usually starts with a loud blaring alarm.  

Then my heart drops in a drop akin to how your heart feels just before the first drop on the big rollercoasters. Only that this time there is no jovial under or over layer, a large dark void fills the space that excitement once filled.

I reluctantly get up and out of bed, hoping some debilitating illness befalls me before I reach the bathroom. I giggle at the ridiculousness of praying that a stray shower spray goes up my nose and drowns me. I mean we all know a drop of water can kill you.  

This is suicide ideation I will not deny it, nor downplay it. But these feelings hit me at very specific times. Every morning before work. Showers wash this away and give way to nothingness.

The drive to work usually soundtracked by loud blaring music.  

It doesn’t matter what I listen to, it replaces any thoughts or feelings that might have instead occupied my mind.  

I get to work.  

I sit in the car park to the very last minute. I gasp as I leave my car, it feels like I have entered a fishbowl, its filled just below the point of where I can breath freely, when the fishbowl tips in a particular manner I can breathe. But for the most part I am constantly trying not to drown, my nose filled with the stench of humid dank chemical water. 

15:59.

Relief and a little disappointment that I have to do this again tomorrow.

insomnia

The quiet of night is when they rear their ugly heads,
Their whispers seem to be louder more boisterous,

Their eyes burn into me,

They become actors and re-enact all my nightmares, vivid HD 

I am glued to the front roll, I can't stop watching

They won't let me stop watching

I wake up 

Look around still in my room, still in my bed, 

Like a concerned parent they stay up with me comfort me 

Get me comfortable again,

Then the movie starts up again this time they make it darker,

more sinister, 

This time I say a prayer, the only difference is I don't remember the dream 

I simply remember the emotion, left on me like the stench of an old lover,

Clinging onto me.

Once confined to nightmares,

Then night time

Then they could no longer be confined.

-Mal
'5k to Couch'