Three Hundred Sixty-Five Days:

Reflecting on a year of therapy.
August 2021

    Sometimes I cry randomly thinking how I find comfort in the idea of committing suicide. I rush into all kinds of emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually taxing endeavors because I want the time I have here to be filled with projecting others into a future I never felt certain exists for myself. At times, it feels like a warm blanket.

    Last year, starting from the very beginning of the year I struggled with being here. I wanted to die for a lot of reasons. I still battle with some of those issues. Many have followed me from childhood; things I could not shake and did not have the tools to ascertain what I was experiencing, or why.

    First, it was the residency, then came the coverage and the folks that sought to attach themselves to me for their own benefits. If not for COVID-19 forcing a break and separation, I would have had a nervous breakdown before the summer.

    Then the summer came and I had a nervous breakdown.

    Over the past seven years I have only reached out for help when I literally was about to go outside and kill myself. I'd call friends and tell them what I was going through, or not. Sometimes I would just cry with them on the phone. There were also times when I could not pick up the phone because I felt that it would make it real. Then there were others when no one I called answered.

    In May 2020, I finally told myself that I did not want to die. Or maybe, I didn't want to die for those reasons. It was at that time that I reached out to the professionals at Montrose Center.

    It took three months for them to meet the criteria I set for anyone who would be my therapist. They had to be BIPOC, preferably a woman. After dealing with HR at the museum, I swore I would never seek mental health advice from someone that cannot relate to my experiences. I also only have sisters and feel most comfortable speaking and sharing with women. In all my life, I have had only a handful of positive male role models.

    After twelve months with my current therapist, I can say that I am much better at understanding myself and certain actions. I am sure of who I am, what I am capable of and who I want in my life. I have found comfort in these acknowledgements.