Black mental health, black mental health matters, Discover, mental health, mental health stigma, Self Discovery, short stories

Waiting to Exhale

*inhales

It’s been a little less than a month since I turned thirty-two. It came with a new set of creaks and cracks in my joints that I’ll be needing to smooth over with five deep breaths in my favorite yoga poses. In the midst of celebrating yet another revolution around the sun, I also confronted something that I’d been silently (and sometimes not so silently) battling for years. 

At the request of my therapist, I saw my psychiatrist for a second opinion on my mental health diagnosis. 

Turns out…….I’m schizophrenic. I’m certain that this may (or not) come as a shock to many of my readers, family and friends alike. 

But it’s my truth.

It’s a truth that I’m not ashamed of. It’s a truth that I embraced with peace and acceptance. As my psychiatrist and I were in my session, I immediately felt a sense of relief because I could finally put a name to the chaos that filled my head. A chaos that I had misunderstood as depression and anxiety. A chaos that I had chalked up to my upbringing. To religion. To my “free spirited and wild hearted” personality. But a majority of who I am has been riddled with mania, psychosis, paranoia, delusions and hallucinations. Like, a lot of it.

My psychiatrist reassured me that not everyone suffering from schizophrenia fits the classic textbook symptoms or “acts out” like the people we see in the media. She even said that she was proud at how much I’d been able to accomplish and was curious as to how I’d been able to mask most of my symptoms, to which my response was “I had no choice.” It was also during this session that I learned that people can suffer from high functioning schizophrenia just as commonly as people suffer from high functioning depression. 

We discussed options for treatment and I was open to starting a low-dosage antipsychotic in combination with weekly therapy visits and bi-weekly psychiatry visits.

I’ve always been my own biggest advocate and this by far has been the best decision I’ve made for myself. It’s been a month since I started my medication and I can genuinely feel the difference…..which was the goal. My therapist is proud. My support system has been supportive. And most importantly, I’m proud. 

If you’ve been supporting this blog for a while, you know I’ve always been pretty transparent about my mental health journey. I’ll be honest. This took me a moment to process in terms of how I was going to share. Mental health is soooooo stigmatized as it is especially within the black community. Then you combine that with the negative media portrayals of those suffering from schizophrenia. It’s clear to see why I chose to be careful. 

I’m not gonna give you the statistics, but just know that there are a lot more people suffering in silence. I simply choose not to be one of those people. Nor am I choosing to allow my diagnosis to restrict me from the life that I choose to live. 

I hope that this blog in particular helps someone feel less alone about it. And I also hope that it inspires someone to seek the mental health help that they need.

*exhales

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mental health, Self Discovery

Removing the Cape

So I was typing up the discussion for Black Girls Must Die Exhausted. 

Bumping Maxwell’s MTV Unplugged album- track 4. This Woman’s Work. Despite being tragically placed in the sex scene in Love and Basketball and many a first dance wedding song, the song is actually about death. 

In case you didn’t know. Go back and listen to the lyrics. And watch the video. 

So yeah.

Between the book, the music and the incense I was burning (which happened to be called “Black Woman”), I got in my feelings.

I got to thinking.

Finally, I have a job I don’t hate. An amazing apartment. Clear skin. Edges……..and in therapy. 

The insurance that I have through my job allows me to access for as little as $35 a session. I’ve been going weekly since December 5th. I went to my first session fully equipped with a plan. I wanted to commit myself to weekly sessions for at least one year. I even started a “therapy journal” last year to write down specific things I’d wanted to tackle when I finally found a therapist. 

We’re quite a few sessions in and I’m making a ton of progress. I’m telling y’all I came prepared to do “the work.” And I make sure to review all of my therapist’s notes after each session. 

The first culprit we’ve identified is PTSD (post- traumatic stress disorder). Primarily from childhood trauma. Now if you know me personally, this comes as no surprise. I’ve been pretty transparent about my upbringing. But I genuinely didn’t understand the extent to which it’d negatively impact every facet of my adult life and all of the relationships I’ve built within it. From family, to friends and lovers alike. 

The truth is. I’ve been tired for a very long time and now I’m fully coming to grips with why it’s understandable. Growing up being applauded for ensuring the wellbeing of others was not a badge of honor that I should have earned. Strength should never be rooted in anyone’s ability to put up with bullshit.

Frankly…….

I’m tired of being the strong daughter

I’m tired of being the strong sibling

I’m tired of being the strong niece

I’m tired of being the strong friend

I’m tired of being the strong colleague

The strong everything for everyone else.

And thanks to therapy, I realize that it’s okay for me to feel that way. I had to be responsible for so much at quite a young age. Just juggling everyone else’s SHIT in addition to my own. Almost to the point where I don’t even really know where anybody else’s shit ends and mine begins. Lately I’ve been working on distinguishing between the two and creating more boundaries to protect myself….FIRST.

So moving forward, I won’t be available in the same capacities that I used to be. 

I’ve taken the “strong” cape off.

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birthday, Discover, Inspiration, mental health, mindfulness, Self Discovery, short stories, Uncategorized

It’s My Party……

And I cried because I NEEDED to,

You would cry too if you walked in my shoes.

Yesterday was my 31st birthday.

It was yet another year of celebrating life in the middle of this pandemic. Unlike most birthdays before last year, I wasn’t genuinely excited.

I knew that this year would be somewhat different since I now live in Texas and most of my family and friends live in North Carolina. 

It began as one of the most “un-birthday-est” birthdays ever. 

I’m used to celebrating throughout the week amongst friends, family and strangers alike. 

Karaoke.

Dinners.

Bar hops.

Vineyards.

Smoking cigars.

Kayaking.

Connecting with nature, 

Hood rat shit with my friends.

This pandemic forced me to do some serious shadow working.

I have had breakdowns galore. 

I have had some rough wild nights.

My support system is A1. 

This revolution around the sun is propelling me forward. I feel it. 

Leering go of the things that torement me. The things that kept me bound. The things that lived rent free in my head for far too long.

It was hindering all that I was trying to manifest.

And on my birthday things changed. 

There was shift. The good finally about to outweigh the bad. 

I got that message very loud and clear. 

Yesterday was an entire party just for me.

And dammit I cried!

Thank you all for allowing me to share this space with you in this lifetime. 

Time to rebrand.

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Discover, Inspiration, Motivation, Self Discovery

And the award goes to…..

In spirit of one of the podcasts that’s kept me afloat this year, The Brilliant Idiots, I think that this quote is reasonable.

If you think 2020 was your best year ever, you’re absolutely right. If you think 2020 was your worst year ever, you’re right too.

Many of us don’t even have the words for what 2020 was. 

Nothing I did was on my vision board. 

My planner looked like a kindergartener had scribbled through it.

I started a new job as a middle school teacher. 

I quit that new job and moved to Texas. 

We got hit with the pandemic quarantine. 

I made $1000 Instacarting one week. 

I got fired from Instacart. 

I had to ask my friends to help me pay my bills.

I finally have a bed after sleeping on a blowup mattress for months. 

I worked at the IRS for 2 days and quit. 

I worked at a hospital for a month. 

I fell in love again. 

If that isn’t Oscar worthy, I don’t know what is. 

2020 showed its ass. 

I’m actually eager to see what 2021 has in store. I’m rather used to this Jordan Peele production we’ve been in for 90% of 2020. 

I’m looking forward to all of the creative ideas being birthed from this pandemic. All of the healthy conversations that are taking place. People are reading again. People are writing again. Strangers are networking. Folks are finally pursuing their passions. 

I love to see it. 

Please do set intentions. 

Please do the shadow work. 

Manifest that shit!

2020. Deuces!

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Discover, Inspiration, mental health, Motivation, random thoughts, Self Discovery, Uncategorized

Escaping Survival Mode

According to Psychology Today, “survival mode” is an adaptive response of the human body to help us survive danger and stress. 

From the outside looking in, many people would assume that I had an overall healthy childhood and adolescence. I was raised by my grandparents in the country. I got good grades. I never came off as disobedient. My yes mams and no sirs were always polished. Despite being a “good kid” raised in a super religious household, my life has never been exempt from trauma and dysfunction. I am almost certain that I’ve suffered from depression for years undiagnosed. 

I recently read and shared an article that discussed the immobilizing effects of depression. I recognized myself immediately. I wasn’t in a position to get out of the environment that I was in so I mentally became immobile. I don’t remember how I learned to control my rage. How to play along. How to seemingly “fit” into that world until I could get out of it.

Fast forward to now.

At 30. Far removed from the people, places and things that brought the trauma and dysfunction into my life, I still catch myself functioning in survival mode.

It is very difficult to escape this mindset.

I’m constantly reminding myself. I question my decisions alot. Why am I doing this? When it’s time for me to make important decisions I ask myself if I’m doing what I want to do or what needs to be done? Anything involving money and I’m asking if I’m buying an item from a headspace of lack.

Whatever helps right?

To the person that resonates with this blog:

  1. How are you or have you been working on escaping a mindself of survival mode?
  2. What has been your biggest challenge?
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Inspiration, Motivation, random thoughts, Self Discovery, short stories, Uncategorized

Untitled 4/27/20

What if I told you that today, I spent the bulk of the afternoon crying in my car in a park? Like boo hoo. Snot running. Struggling to breathe bawling. A lot of folks I know probably wouldn’t believe it and even more would likely be upset that didn’t reach out to talk to them. The thing is…..I needed to cry today. I needed to fall apart. I needed to RELEASE.

Everything kinda hit at once (with the assistance of my period of course) and I lost my shit.

I started my day off like normal. Instacarting. Batches were trickling in but few and far between. For lunch I had street tacos from a food truck and I sat in the parking lot eating and people watching. A norm for me.

Then I started getting into my own head again. I started thinking about being 30. Living with my sister and brother in law. Not having yet gotten my own apartment since being in Texas. Not getting the full time job that I was really gunning for. Not being able to get Milo from NC right now. COVID19 fucking up all of my plans. The list continues.

Just all of the things that I’m not able to do. I started feeling helpless. The sure fire sign that I am on the brink of going into a state of depression.

I had a complete meltdown.

I let all of my frustrations and fears fall from my eyes. I screamed. I cursed. I prayed. I begged.

And you know what I noticed after I did all of that?

Nothing in the park stopped because I had a meltdown.

Folks were still getting their miles in. Smiling. Laughing. Kids still played on the playground (a separate COVID convo to be had).

NOBODY NOTICED. There was no one to ask what was wrong. NOBODY GAVE A DAMN.

So I started laughing.

Here I am. Having an entire pity party.

Alone.

Expecting the world to stop.

The world won’t stop because I’m sad. Because things aren’t going according to plan. Hell, it still hasn’t stopped for COVID.

I had a day. A moment. Cool. But how many more days can I afford to fall apart like this? None.

I got out the car. Went to a table and started reading.

If you look hard enough, you’ll find clues on what to do next.

Two clues came to me today.

The first was a quote from the book I’m reading Think Unbroken by Michael Anthony.

If you win the day, then you win the week.

If you win the week, then you win the month.

If you win the month, then you win the year.

Think Unbroken, Michael Anthony

I decided to change the working to be more proactive for me. I jotted it down on a sticky note to put over my bed.

The second thing that came was a shift in my mindset from a very interesting place.

I saw a man at the park. He was flying a kite. From a fishing rod.

It was actually flying and he looked like the happiest man in the world.

Who said he had to ONLY fly a kite from the string it came with?

Who said that you had to ONLY fish with a fishing rod?

NO DAMN BODY.

I was reminded to think outside the box. I can make up my own rules if the “rules” that I’m attempting to follow aren’t working for me.

I was reminded to think bigger. Perhaps what I need right now isn’t coming to me because what I think I need is too small.

I quickly pulled my shit together and left the park.

Empowered.

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Education, Inspiration, Motivation, Self Discovery

Education Has Fallen- 1 Year Later

One year ago I entered the doors of education as a bright teacher with high hopes of being able to reach and teach every student that entered my classroom. Some days I’m still that educator. Other days I question whether or not I’m actually making a difference. On those days I go home, crack open of Aldi’s wine and read reflection assignments that I had my kids write about my class. I binge watch 13 Reasons Why. Lean on Me. Dangerous Minds. There are also times that I vent to my non-teacher friends and reserve the hard hitter items for my notebooks. For the first time in my life, I feel that I’m working in my purpose. I have the job that creates all the other jobs. Nurturing the future. Planting seeds of wisdom. All the cliche catch phrases associated with being a teacher. But regardless of how critical my role is, how much I pour into my kids, the moral of the story is that the education system itself is failing our kids. 

 

But you already knew that. 

 

So I’m not sure if I told you. I currently teach Principles of Business and Finance and Entrepreneurship I at the high school level. Last year I taught Essentials of College Math, Math 2 and Advanced Functions and Modeling. Do I have a degree in math? Nope. Am I good at it? Yep. They needed a teacher. I needed a job. 

 

My first semester was spent learning the ropes. High school has changed so much since 2004 when I was a freshman. It didn’t take me long to learn about the various bell schedules, faculty meetings and fire and tornado drill protocols. What I wasn’t prepared for were weekly professional learning team meetings, twenty five minute lunches (or skipped lunches) and not actually having planning periods some days. There was and still is so much more to learn and I’m finding out new information everyday.

 

Teaching math was difficult. Not because the concepts were difficult (as they are the same as when I was in high school). It wasn’t because I didn’t have the resources or support to teach it. It was because many of my kids didn’t understand basic math. It didn’t take me long to realize this and the moment that I did, I decided to have an open conversation with them. I learned that many of my kids sat in classrooms with long term subs instead of teachers during their freshman and sophomore years. My school has an extremely high turnover rate in the math department. EXTREMELY HIGH. Blame has shifted equally between student behavior, ridiculous testing expectations and poor leadership in administration. Teachers enter the classroom prepared but aren’t always supported. Students enter the classroom unfocused and undisciplined. Administration sweeps it all under the rug in desperate attempts to keep an ideal image. It’s a clusterfuck. Nevertheless, those of us that desire to still make a difference, stay. And we teach. And we cry on planning periods. And we request Total Wine gift cards for Christmas.

 

Many of my students have told me that my class has been the ONLY math class that has had a teacher for the entire semester and the only one that they have learned anything in. This was the first time that a teacher didn’t make them feel bad for not knowing certain concepts. The first math teacher that treated them like they were capable of learning. The first math teacher that cared. The first math teacher that pushed them. 

 

My methods of teaching allowed students to not only learn but allowed them to fill i the gaps. If they needed help with addition (when I asked them to attempt to not use calculators), I helped them. To my knowledge, no one felt embarrassed. They all understood that somewhere along the way, education had failed them. 

 

Many of my students also admitted that they experienced severe testing anxiety. I mean, they only have finals for almost every class. On top of the PreACT. On top of the ACT. On top of the PSAT. On top of the SAT. On top of the ASVAB. In addition to the curriculum, I found myself researching and suggesting strategies for testing anxiety. There’s so much pressure to perform high without suggesting strategies outside of “get a full night’s rest and eat a good breakfast” before these standardized tests. 

 

Speaking of standardized testing, I failed the high school math Praxis. Gladly. In all of my years, I’ve never solved math without a formula sheet. Whether it was one developed myself, or one provided by a teacher. Guess who was expected to already know/remember EVERY formula for every level of math at the high school level? I knew as soon as I hit the submit button that I had failed. I wasn’t able to recognize anything I had studied until question 26. There was nothing more that I could have done to prepare me for it. NOT A DAMN THING. And that is how I ended up teaching business classes this year. 

 

Again I’ll remind you that I don’t have a background in education. My bachelors degree is in psychology. My masters is in business administration with a concentration in project management. NOT education. 

 

The problem that I began recognizing is that many of my colleagues received degrees in education. They received the foundational blocks. The classroom strategies. The degree assured them that they would make quality teacher. The students prove them otherwise. All of that shit went out the window the first time a student challenged a strategy that they were taught. 

 

In my .5 seconds of being an educator, I can tell you that there are plenty of people leading schools (administration) and classrooms (teachers) that have NO BUSINESS BEING IN ANYBODY’S CLASSROOM. They are full of biases. Stereotypes. Racism. It’s real in the field. 

 

I have and will continue to teach my kids that when people (more specifically their seemingly adult teachers) don’t have power in their personal lives, they’ll seek to gain it outside of their home (the classroom). They take my wisdom at face value. They observe. Then we talk about it. These are such healthy and teachable moments. 

 

But.

These aren’t the conversations that fall in line with the state provided curriculum. They aren’t listed in my lesson plans (when I remember to do them). These moments are organic. Oftentimes we go from discussing technological factors that affect a business to an ethics cases in which an employee is discriminated against for wearing their natural hair. I’ve got stories for days. Everytime I share a story about my “corporate days”, they often comment “ain’t no fuckin way.” And they’re right. Those were my exact thoughts while I was in the moment. Why didn’t I speak up? My kids teach me so much about freedom and freely expressing myself everyday. I have a few students that are interested in working in corporate America. And they don’t plan on taking any bullshit from anyone. Their motivation is the dream of the six figure salary. I never tell them that it isn’t possible because it is I do ask them to consider work/life balance and their physical and mental health needs. For those interested in pursuing entrepreneurship, I kindly remind them that it’s NOT about bragging rights and just making money. It requires a ton of sacrifice.

 

Ms. Royster’s classes are lit. On god. No cap. Per my students. 

 

What they don’t see. 

 

Teaching has spiraled my anxiety and depression in and out of control. It’s forced me to confront past trauma not only for myself but to help me better assist my students. I often tell me students to take note of the advice that I give them. That way, they won’t have as much to unpack in their late twenties. 

 

The stories that my students have shared have been incredible. They have been inspirational. They’ve been terrifying. They’ve been depressing.

 

The skin I’ve had to develop is thicker than leather. It’s a necessary evil to be a teacher. 

 

I’m always encouraged NOT to take work home. But I do. I worry about my kids the moment that I see their bookbags leave my classroom door. I worry about their interactions with other teachers. With their parents and especially the police. I find myself sharing many of the funny stories about my kids. Confusing folks when I say “my kids” instead of “my students.” And always receiving “thank you for what you do, I couldn’t do it” praises from strangers. 

 

I do it because I want to. The money damn sure isn’t there. And honestly I’d take the joy of my job over the 65k I was making in corporate anyday. The joy. But the 65k would be nice as well. Teaching allows me to work in my purpose. All day. Everyday. I’ll be in education for a while. Advocating for your kids (my kids). Their kids. My future kids and their future kids. I look forward to encouraging them. Pushing them to continue to keep their heads and hearts high. Reminding them that their minds are not only a terrible thing to waste but a true ticket that can take them anywhere they want to go. 

 

But again, the education system as a whole is failing. Because kids aren’t allowed to fail. This is why they take it so personally when they fail at anything outside of the classroom. Everyone, even those undeserving receive participation points and trophies. The kids are beyond entitled. The expectations are lower than the sidewalk on the street so that everyone can reach them. It’s saddening. I can’t give a student less than a 50 in my class whether they deserve it or not. I can write a kid up and it’ll take a month before they receive consequences for their actions. 

 

Many teachers aren’t supported. Not only are we fighting and fighting for our kids, we are fighting and fighting for parents, we are also fighting our very own administrations. I think that Joe Clark set the bar too high. I thought I’d be able to vent my frustrations about things that bother me and how I’m eager to serve my students in a bigger capacity. This wasn’t the school for that. The sympathy is non-existent. The lack of support began reminding me of the shitty management that I had in corporate America. The classic passive aggressiveness. And so, as with all things in my life now, the universe decided that it was time to spread my wings elsewhere. I wasn’t looking for a new position. At the time, I was fighting for a reimbursement for a broken car window (which is another story for another day at the bar), I still went to work for my kids. An opportunity came my way and I gladly accepted. Per the journey of my life, the assignment at my current school has come to an end. My new position as a Business Information Technology teacher at the middle school level will begin after Thanksgiving break. 

 

I have mixed emotions. My experience has been bittersweet. I’ve had a mixed bunch. More good apples than bad. I had one fight in my classroom. One of the fighters cleaned up my room after the fight. Both boys apologized for disturbing the peace in my classroom! THE PEACE YALL!!! During the first semester and a half, I only wrote one kid up. He said that he walked out of the class just to see if I would because I was so nice. After I wrote him up once, I never had another issue out of him again. 

 

I’ve got more street cred than I’ve got street sense. 

 

This chapter of my life/career has been the most challenging yet rewarding but I wouldn’t change it for a thing I’m excited for what year 2 brings. Stay tuned. 

 

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Discover, Inspiration, Motivation, random thoughts, Self Discovery

In Case You Were Wondering

As many of you may know (or don’t know), I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety and depression in November 2015. Since then it’s been a colorful rollercoaster to reduce the number of panic attacks, suicide attempts/thoughts and breakdowns. I’m grateful to everyone who’s tagged along, supported me or literally saved my life.

Moving forward Pretty Dope Right?®️ will be a blog dedicated to sharing my journey according to my anxiety and depression. How it’s defined me, allowed me to define myself and forced me to find a functioning medium.

Thank you for reading

-Racquell

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Discover, Inspiration, Motivation, Self Discovery

Write the blog sis!

I’ve been slacking. I’ve been challenged. Most importantly I’m making changes for the better.

Slowly but surely I’ve gotten away from myself and more specifically, my writing. It bothers me more than I care to admit. Not only am I letting myself down, but I also feel like I’m letting down my fellow writers and those that depend on me to keep them motivated.

So just in case you needed a mid-week or mid-life friendly reminder…….

WRITE THE BLOG SIS!!!!!!!

WRITE THE BOOK!!!!!!!

START THE BUSINESS!!!!!!!

The world is waiting

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Inspiration, Motivation, random thoughts, Self Discovery

An Open Letter to Assata Shakur

Dear Assata,

I hope that this letter finds you in the comforts of your freedom. I won’t take too much of your time.

One day (about a month or so ago), I visited my favorite herbal apothecary. I picked up a 21 day guided journal and I as gifted a bracelet with “Exist Like Assata” etched into it. I am a firm believer in the intentions of the universe. I took it as a sign that during this current time and space in my life, I was supposed to be learning something from you. Prior to receiving this bracelet, I had no idea who you were, what your impact was or how much you’d change my life. All I knew was that I was being encouraged to “exist” like you….whatever that meant.

Being the bookworm that I am, I decided to begin with your literature. I’ll be honest, I typically finish reading books in about three days. Your autobiography took me over a month to finish.

As I read, I researched. I researched words. I researched locations you mentioned. I researched the Black Liberation Army. Your autobiography was my first introduction to it. In the history of my education, it has NEVER been mentioned and after reading, I fully understand why.

As I read, my blood boiled. I became frustrated. The frustration led to anger. The anger led to feelings of such helplessness that I cried and had to continuously put the book down until I pulled myself together.

Assata, I am in awe of your spirit, strength and the courage that carried you. Thank you for inspiring me to make greater efforts to be an advocate for our people. Most importantly, I thank you for sharing your truth. I wish you continued freedom, light and love.

-Racquell

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