Growing up in the black community
Most people in the black community don't care about mental health.
The times when I was telling my mom about my depression, she asked, "Why are you depressed?" When I tell her about how her husband abuses me, she always tells me that the past is the past and not to worry about it. She needs to understand that trauma doesn't work that way. But it's futile to even think that she'll understand because she's too ignorant to make the effort.
I can't even go to my aunt because the last few times I did, she always told me stories of other black women who have been abused growing up as a way of telling me that there are other people out there who have had it worse than I had.
Then I tried to go to one of my cousins, with whom I'm moderately close, and it's all "better yourself" and all of that positive stuff that doesn't involve any reflections and help. I decided to not discuss mental health with them because it would become draining and start to infuriate me. I keep having to change therapists, and there's that.
My mom didn't do anything to dispel the abuse. She did nothing. My childhood has been filled with neglect and mommy and daddy issues. My bio dad left before I was born. My first stepdad (good man) died when I was 3. Right after that, my mom married a guy who didn't need to have any children, yet out spewed my 3 siblings.
I'm touch-starved. I feel awkward giving others physical affection to the point where I just don't do it. I don't know how to feel. It has gotten to the point where I could hug in a greeting and I would feel no emotional connection on my end. Hugs just seem like a symbol of friendship and platonic relationships.
Growing up, I've received no affection from anyone. No positive validations to make me know that it's okay and that I'm doing a good job. No praise. Now, as a 20-year-old, all I know is how to be a Hermit.
I don't really have a support system.
The times when I was telling my mom about my depression, she asked, "Why are you depressed?" When I tell her about how her husband abuses me, she always tells me that the past is the past and not to worry about it. She needs to understand that trauma doesn't work that way. But it's futile to even think that she'll understand because she's too ignorant to make the effort.
I can't even go to my aunt because the last few times I did, she always told me stories of other black women who have been abused growing up as a way of telling me that there are other people out there who have had it worse than I had.
Then I tried to go to one of my cousins, with whom I'm moderately close, and it's all "better yourself" and all of that positive stuff that doesn't involve any reflections and help. I decided to not discuss mental health with them because it would become draining and start to infuriate me. I keep having to change therapists, and there's that.
My mom didn't do anything to dispel the abuse. She did nothing. My childhood has been filled with neglect and mommy and daddy issues. My bio dad left before I was born. My first stepdad (good man) died when I was 3. Right after that, my mom married a guy who didn't need to have any children, yet out spewed my 3 siblings.
I'm touch-starved. I feel awkward giving others physical affection to the point where I just don't do it. I don't know how to feel. It has gotten to the point where I could hug in a greeting and I would feel no emotional connection on my end. Hugs just seem like a symbol of friendship and platonic relationships.
Growing up, I've received no affection from anyone. No positive validations to make me know that it's okay and that I'm doing a good job. No praise. Now, as a 20-year-old, all I know is how to be a Hermit.
I don't really have a support system.
