Posted By Afro-Awesome Guest contributor
On Dec 27, 2018
By Bongi Sibanda
I am turning 24 last year and I was more than excited. 2017 was an unpleasant year for me. It was a year of despair and hopelessness. I just gave up. I had no hope, it just seemed like there was no reason for me to fight.
Last year when depression knocked on my door, like it always does, I let it in and we had tea together. We stayed indoors and after the tea we got into bed and snuggled with each other. I fell in love with depression.
I let it take me as its own. I let it learn the curves of my body, and I did not fight.
For days, I would lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling and not eat, nor shower, nor go outside to see friends. I was just tired and I did not see any reason why I should fight to live. It was just hard, and I was having a difficult time seeing past the cloud of despair that seemed to be walking around everywhere with me.
When 2018 came, and a few months after my medication started working, I decided that I didn’t want to despair like I did the previous year. Depression has snatched several years from my life, and I would not want it to happen again this year. This year, I want to try and love myself and be there for myself or else I will die.
We are now three weeks into 2018, and I have done very little towards this goal of self-love. Instead I am finding myself having an intense longing to be in a romantic relationship. I long for someone else to do the loving, someone who would love me and affirm these feelings that I have for women, someone who will make it a little easier for me to wake up every day and do the work of being alive. I want someone else to do the work which I should be doing for myself.
Today, I came across an Instagram post which said, “No one will come to your rescue.” No one will rescue me from my negative thoughts, from my constant self-doubt, self-denial, and self-hate.
Ugh ugh ugh!
It would be so much easier if that were true, right? Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that I must show up in my own life, and work hard to keep depression out the door. This year depression will not be my lover. There must be much more exciting lovers out there, like MYSELF.
For more on mental health check out this series by Nomaliqhwa which tackles all sorts of relationships in her life and also this piece on the ABCs of handling mental health. There is also a post about therapists of colour. There is also a piece about Africans and mental health.
You can read more of Bongi’s writing on her blog I Write Most When I Am Sad and reach out to her via email at confusedandlovingit@gmail.com
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