Journal Entry No. 12
By Ryan Lopes
February 18, 2019
Mental health has always been something that I have been in tune with. I grew wondering and sensitive to those around me, varying interpretations of being in tune with self. And more than often so, I find myself falling rather than picking up and continuing where I left off. I remember being introduced to this feeling when I was at a peak of a transitional endeavor. I lost much of what I physically owned and all I could call mine. I lost value and inner love for myself because of the things I thought had defined my character. I knew what a panic attack felt like, after all. I’ve risen many times, of course through every fall, but the lessons only get deeper and deeper, and these lessons are my soul searching…
A deeper connection within myself has been present for as long as I can remember. I wanted to know what made me feel the ways I have and what formulas have grown into habit of me losing ease of my sense in strength. The crave for sanity and loneliness was a longer craving desire of exploring all of the fades and blurs of my life and what the destiny may unfold as. It was and remains an overwhelm of leap in emotions. Was it because I was furious or because I continuously am seeking strength in my silence? Silence too can be a form of release for me, and when I cannot pinpoint the tension of my inner, I aim to release…
It’s the small sentiments that make me question my inner – and this inner has not been discovered amongst anyone else but myself. It’s as if I’ve discovered a new part of me that no one has ever felt, and dare I vocalize it – I’d be a damn fool. My emotions are in fact felt in various forms through practices of social interference and public representation. It’s that presence that resides within and eats me up at times, causing an overload in emotions, to become vulnerable. To speak and be felt. To cry, laugh and perceive humiliation, but in reality it’s an exchange of a reflection. It’s us all in increments of personal urgencies. It’s what comes now and finds it’s way out later. It’s the parts of me that become fatal and reborn again. Those areas are quite okay, too. Those areas define my character. They define my credentials of solely being a human being. It is in fact the most sacred part of me.
I believe my father is a victim of anxiety and depression – deeper than none other (or maybe like each other).
I’ve witnessed an entire lifestyle of his desolation from afar. The fears of not being in control of what we think we master each time we fall and find a coping mechanism to rise. He promised several times to show up and take me out to spend time with him prior to him not being around anymore, but he would not show up. He would not call or communicate his absence and still does not, after fifteen years. He identifies with not being fully compliant with himself to conclude one effort to perceive the next. He felt embarrassed of the fact that his emotions have eaten him up due to the fact that he is not stable within himself or his surroundings of his well-being. Phases of him grew on never showing up instead of coming around, as he promised at the instance of him and my mothers split. Running away led to being lost. I have become a product of what he’s projected amongst myself – uncommunicative, fearful and emotionally secluded.
The past ten years have been a journey of discovering all of the silence surrounding me. Growing and knowing that many whom I love and am influenced by battle their personal obstacles on a daily basis, silently. In fact, I do too. I continuously share the areas of me that are strong without any intent of acknowledging that I may be inadequate or a hopeless romantic. I often can’t afford nor provide the guidance of an overwhelm. It’s a constant deep fear. We grow instantly weary of those who weep and wonder when their tunnel of light awaits – promising a space in safety for vocalizing how we morally feel. It takes so much time to encounter, accept and then to communicate + process what our peers may have to say in relation or response. Guiding our peers and loved ones to seek mental help is often a larger obstacle of blurry perseverance – therefore practicing compatibility between emotions and developing comprehension creates a pedestal of trust and clarity.
I remain to live in a public where mental health must be diagnosed and treated with medication and is less about experiences and root causes from past trauma. I would never advocate to not take medication for our mental health and stability, as I do believe treatments and discussion provide solutions, though creating space where we can voice our experiences safely is crucial. Feeling misplaced by the weight of our emotions is daunting enough to be told that our experiences immediately need treatment. I need to reflect on how I got here to begin with. It would be freeing to speak on how heavy my day was, feeling nowhere close to the finish line. I need to know that I am not alone. I’ve only been open and in hope, after all…
I still don’t know how that resides within me. Though I am not alone and the aspects that form me to fall actively contribute to all the times I rise. I am reminded that I am whole and present and that is surely more than enough. I am rooted and grounded in my character and however long it may take to achieve my next step is just as important as anyone else’s. It is a part of me. It is a growing reflection inside of me.
I am a fixated effort of him, her and me too.