What You’re Worth

I’m not good with math
Or numbers or change
but here’s an equation
I’ll try to explain
if I start with a positive
and lose any cents
My account becomes negative
make any sense?
I know you don’t get it
Just hear me out
I’ve run out of worth
causing debt and doubt
I don’t take loans
grants or gifts
in the form of cheap thrill
Or fake relationships
so try and keep quiet
don’t fuss or holler
Bc what’s your two cents
Compared to my dollar
You still don’t get it
so let me just say it
I am changing for me
And no opinion can delay it
So in Dollars, cents
pennies or quarters
know your self worth
And stop taking orders
So better yourself
and don’t be ashamed
add up your value
Bc everyone needs change

Shadow of Courage

At this time, I came with two pictures.

Firstly; I took it at my old high school which is also a primary school too. I immediately went to the courtyard where I could find the pure joy of youth. I didn’t have to take so many steps when I found this little boy, who was so excited, scared, happy and nervous. He was playing hide-and-seek. 
I captured him alone, alone with his feelings and his atmosphere. He was hidden and I didn’t want to take it from him. 
We can also see a tree shadow, an opened and a closed space. Hiding from the other playing kids and from the time (clock shadow) until he has to be a normal student again. When we were in his shoes, we always looked that clock. “How much time we have, feeling this freedom?” The magical freedom without being stressed, controlled, scared, nervous. 
But the boy felt both sides of feelings while he was playing.

And secondly; I finally was in France, Paris. The people immediately caught my attention, there were so many glad kids. I was always looking for a chance to perpetuate this kind of feeling that I want to be a child again. A better child (I’m not talking about my behavior). We didn’t use to play in a public area or went to a park. My mother was working, my brother and I played in our big garden. It was our playground, but I had a private place where can I ‘share’ my childhood. It was difficult for me to play wildly with other strange kiddywinks.
This BRAVE girl with her glasses and trendy roller shows me the opposite of me. The better me.

Failure

It pins you down

Captures you in its grasp and won’t let you go.

You can try as hard as you would like

But nothing you do will help

The voice in your head

Constantly reminding you that you failed

You did not succeed

You’re a failure and a disappointment

Don’t try again

It’s not worth it

Waste of time, space and energy

Give up.

chapter one: the broken girl in the coffee shop

chapter one: the broken girl in the coffee shop

she was not the type of girl to wait around after school just to watch you walk to your locker.

she would not wait around at the coffee shop after your practice just to watch you order your large strawberry flavoured water and yoghurt parfait cup.

she would not give you the answers to yesterday’s homework no matter how important that game or practice was, ” or was it a party this time?” she’d ask in an almost sarcastic tone.

she was a tough one, there was a certain stubbornness to her that you admired.

her light brown eyes had seen some of the darkest days you are yet to experience, but you loved it, you loved how she managed to get through it all.

she was not dying to get to know you, but god knows you would do anything to get to know her better.

the quiet girl who just transferred from california, was that her name? her name!  you don’t even know her name.

you started to stay after school to get a glance of her on her way to her car, backpack half open, hair a mess.  it was cute.  you thought it was cute.

after your practice at the coffee shop you would glance around hoping some day she would be sitting alone reading her favourite book, then you’d approach her right then and there and get her name.

weeks go by, she seems to have disappeared.  you see her occasionally when walking from class to class.

apparently, she has been seeing someone. someone who you know is not any good for her, but as long as she is happy right?

one night in the coffee shop you glance over at the brunette girl with light brown eyes sitting next to someone.

you hear the pain in her words as she opens her mouth, voice trembling, ” we were doing so well”

minutes go by and there she is alone.  wiping the tears off of her rosy cheeks.

you grew angry with yourself, why didn’t you comfort her? why didn’t you go and sit by her? ask her if she was okay?

these thoughts attacked your panicked mind until you got up and walked over.

there you were sitting next to the broken girl in the coffee shop.

no words were exchanged, as she placed her head in the warmth of your embrace.

she doesn’t have her car, so you’ll drive her home.

you won’t ever forget that rainy night or the dark pink and purple sky.

she lives close but you don’t mind taking her.  you hope she feels better, and not alone.

you got up and out of your chair, let her feel her emotions without having to hide them behind her grey tear stained sweatshirt.  drove her home so she’d be safe.  you offered to stay in case she didn’t want to be alone.

little do you know she’ll remember this night forever

mt

 

depression.

featured image via Panna Bagoly 

depression.

It’s time to talk about something very serious and something that isn’t talked about as much as it should be.
Depression.
Just that 10 letter word can scare some people and cause them anxiety. It may even instantly bring flashbacks of some dark times. If it doesn’t – I’m truly happy for you, because that means you didn’t have to go through this.
I have GAD (Generalised Anxiety Disorder) ever since I remember existing, and still suffer with it to this day. It doesn’t have a cure and I know I’m going to have to live with this for the rest of my life. One thing that has to be taken into account – and that took me years to realise- is that the fact that I’m going to live with this forever doesn’t necessarily mean that I have to let my disorder define me or my actions. It doesn’t have to take over my life.
If you suffer from anxiety just like me, let me tell you that there’s plenty of ways of getting help. You don’t have to suffer in silence, nor should you. That isn’t healthy and will only make the big monster that is anxiety grow more and more as time goes by.
When we decide to stay in silence, to keep our thoughts to ourselves, to silently cry every night under the duvet… that’s when anxiety decides to call a friend of his. Depression.
I have no doubts that to some this might come as a surprise: the fact that anxiety actually affects people that much and the fact that anxiety walks hand in hand with depression most times.
Suffering from anxiety doesn’t mean you’re always going to be depressed, but if the disorder isn’t treated as it should if the person suffering doesn’t seek for help, that black and chunky monster will most likely make its way into the body and start messing with the mind.
I’ll give my personal experience as an example.
Like I previously said, I’ve lived with my disorder ever since I remember existing, and it has been a terribly hard battle to fight.
My anxiety has made it extremely difficult for me to make new friendships, to speak in front of a crowd, to ask for a drink in a bar… but there was one year when I was 12 years of age when things were different.
I knew that what I was feeling wasn’t just anxiety.
In 2012 I started doubting myself. And when I wasn’t doubting myself, or even actually feeling good about myself one day, when night time approached, I’d always find myself crying in my bedroom and listening to sad songs.
That summer I fell out of some friendships and was struggling a lot with my self-confidence. It came to the point where I looked at myself in the mirror and wanted to cry due to how I looked, my appearance. I looked at all my friends in their swimwear, so confident and beautiful, just to look down at my tummy and wish it wasn’t that big.
The friendships I had slowly fell apart thanks to my “friends” constantly making little remarks about my tastes and sometimes even how I looked or what I wore. They made fun of me, whether I was around or not. It made me feel little in comparison to them, and many were the days and nights when I cried because their words kept playing in my mind like a broken record.
That was when the depression started. It started slowly, with my self doubt, then it escalated to seeing the ones who were once by my side walk past me and not even say a word, or laugh.
This all happened during Summer, that time of the year where you’re supposed to have no worries, to enjoy those three months to the fullest, to have fun… but I wasn’t doing that. I remember that many were the days when after lunch I’d go to my room and cry.
I was sad every single day and rare were the times I could plaster a smile across my face.
My elder sister and mom were extremely preocuppied with my condition and even told me multiple times I should try and see a therapist. But my answer was always no. At 12 years of age, I was one of those that thought “only the crazy or really sick ones need to see a therapist”. It makes me cringe that I actually thought like that. Silly me!
But I did end up going to see a therapist. I only made that decision because one of my sister’s friends had a conversation with me. He told me he knew how I was feeling, because my sister had shared her worries for me with him. That made my heart hurt and that was when I started crying. I still have this episode very present on my mind. I cried for a solid hour, listening to everything our friend had to say and tried to explain what I was feeling. If you have dealt/are dealing with depression, you know how hard it is to explain what you’re going through when sometimes not even you understand.
It was by the end of that conversation that I made up my mind. I was, indeed, going to see a therapist.
As soon as school started in September I started seeing my school’s therapist.
I was there every week for two years. It helped! It really did, and that’s no lie. If you think that talking to a stranger won’t help – you’re wrong. Sometimes talking to someone who doesn’t know a single thing about you is just what you need. You won’t feel judged.
I stopped the therapy sessions because I was better. So much better. My confidence had grown a bit and my anxiety was more controllable. And the depression? It wasn’t there anymore.
I’m trying to be as raw and truthful as I can. So I will say that maybe the decision myself and the therapist made wasn’t the best. I shouldn’t have left Therapy. I should’ve kept going every week, even if I only went to talk to her about my day!
But I didn’t and things were good for a good couple of months! Maybe a year.
But there’s something people need to understand about anxiety and depression: it comes and goes.
And that’s what happened to me. Depression eventually came back, and I was back to crying alone in my room, to doubting myself, comparing my figure to others… But I didn’t go back to Therapy. I dealt with it myself – and that made me grow into a much stronger person.
I should’ve dealt with those two monsters by myself? No, I shouldn’t and I don’t think it is recommendable. But was by my own that I learnt to deal with my anxiety in situations no one was going to be able to help me. It was like I injected some postivity into my brain.
Now, if you’re going through one of these dark phases and haven’t gone and look for help, I don’t want in any way to encourage you to stay that way. Please do seek for help. Talk to someone, whether that is one of your parents, a therapist, a friend… someone you know that’s going to listen and try to understand you. Someone that’s going to be there for you along the way.
Anxiety walks hand in hand with me everyday, and it doesn’t matter if I want it to hold my hand or not, because it’s tied and glued. It won’t leave, but I’ve learnt to deal with it. To control it.
One thing I still have to quite learn to deal with is my depression. It’s the monster that still scares me every time it appears.
If you’re dealing with depression, please don’t let it spread. I can’t stress enough the fact that you should look for a Therapist, seek for help and take care of yourself.
We are all unique in our way (no matter how cheesy that sounds) and we’re all worth it. We were all put into this planet with a purpose and if you haven’t, you’ll eventually find yours.
Depression isn’t just feeling sad. The word is actually thrown around like something with litte significance, when in reality it is something very serious and complicated.
Depression can start with people doubting themselves, to hate the way they look, the way they speak, the way they walk. People think no one cares for them, “no one would miss me if I just disappeared”. People are going through a very delicate and storng pain, and gain pleasure from causing even more hurt to themselves, because they feel like they deserve it. Depression leads to anxiety, to suicide… Depression isn’t a joke and it sure isn’t something to be used as a joke. It’s an illness that just keeps on getting more current in our society and it needs to be taken in count just as seriously as other illnesses.
We have to raise awareness for mental health. People who suffer with any sort of mental health illness have to feel comfortable talking to someone, have to understand that they’re not alone. And in our generation, I think we still have a long way to go for people to feel like that.
If you suffer with depression and have an anxiety disorder/panic attacks or any sort of mental illness I just want you to know that you’re not alone, ok? You’re not. There’s a way out of all this mess and even though it won’t disapeear and will always be a part of you it doesn’t have to define you. It doesn’t define you. Just like my therapist once told me “You are not your disorder”.
No matter how hard it might be to understand this and believe it, everything is going to be fine, eventually. You just have to treat yourself.
Us humans are like plants. We have to keep on watering ourselves in order to keep flourishing and keep on getting healthier and healthier!
I know that my words aren’t going to cure anyone, and that that are some that might feel confused or frustrated because the depression they’re going through isn’t exactly like this. But I hope most of you find some smiliarities in my story and understand that it is possible to get better and that seeking for help is crucial. It’s that click we have to take in order to start the journey that is trying to make that huge black monster get out of our body and mind. It is possible, and you can do it.
I’d love to hear some of your stories and to help in any way that I can.
Feel free to leave a comment down below telling me your story and journey living with anxiety, depression or both. Who knows maybe there’ll be people who read it and identify themselves?
If you relate to any comment, why not reply and spread a little positivity?
I’d love to read your stories and try to contribute with my words as much as I can.
And always remember: you’re not your disorder, you’re not your depression – these things don’t define you. You are a human that needs to be taken care of and that needs to be watered in order to keep on flourishing. You are unique and needed in this world. Stay strong and remember that nothing’s impossible. You’ll fight this battle and kick anxiety/depression in the ass. I believe in you!

I’m Scared

featured image via Panna Bagoly

 

I’m Scared 

 

No matter how loud I scream

No one hears me

I plead and I beg

Stop please

But the agony continues

Every move I make

Every word I say

Is wrong.

I try and hide from all of this

4 walls that when I am enclosed in I should feel safe

Not today

Today I feel far from safe

Scared and fearful

Underneath the blankets in the darkness

The tears fall and I want nothing more than for it to stop

Once again

No one can hear me.

a rose by any other name

hi my name is admonished

sorry I mean adulterated

I mean accursed

I mean Addy

wait no nevermind

that can’t be my name

that doesn’t belong to me

it doesn’t match?

it’s not

mine

I think

when I found out that there was a doll

who looked like me

who had hair like mine

who

wonder upon wonders

shared my name

                addy: the black AMERICAN girl doll

I was ecstatic

I was young and naïve and so so so stupid

when my mother found out there was a doll

who looked like

me

who had hair like

mine

who shared

my

name

she was disgusted

                that’s a slave’s name

                that girl was a slave

                you

                are not a slave

                we are not her

                we have history

                we have a country

                why would you want a doll that doesn’t come from where you come from?

but –

                    aren’t we both black, mother?

                don’t we bleed red, mother?

                don’t we get treated the same, mother?

                ain’t no white man going to care that she was born here and I was born in Nigeria,                 ma

                black is black is black is discrimination

she didn’t see it like I did

apparently

there are shades of black

hi, my name is Adachukwu

wait, I mean Ada

you’ve never said it the way it should be said, so why should I give you what belongs to me?

but if you really care

you can call me

ah – dah – choo – koo

that’s how it’s pronounced

I think

the thing is

I’ve spent so long shortening it for you

I’m not sure how it’s supposed to be said

                the name my mother gave me

there’s the way my parents say it

loud and purposeful and like THEY KNOW WHAT THEY MEAN WHEN THEY SAY THINGS

                adachukwu (igbo translation): first daughter of god

and there’s the way my friends say it

                they don’t

and the way I say it (?)

                adachukwu (rushed and mostly unsure and this? is what i mean and I’m sorry for my culture and my skin and my pronunciation and…)

but you are welcome to try

at least one of us should

hi my name is not here

it left

it couldn’t stand the ambiguity

it’s changed so many times

it has lost its shape

I could try to remake it

but I don’t know who I’d be

the issue is

juliet was wrong

about names

and the idea that life without romeo wasn’t worth living

at least in my case

under a pseudonym

                false name

                fake name

                NOT MY NAME

I am not the same person

I am sure of that

Addy was kind and sweet and always saw the best in people

Ada was apologetic

sorry I mean aborted

sorry I mean abrasive

sorry but

I am all that’s left

*dial tone*

*click*

I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about

she doesn’t live here anymore

she

left

please leave a name message

anon