There are moments when I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror. It’s not a vanity thing, but you know randomly after a shower or as I’m getting ready for work in the morning, and I see these various spots and scars all over my torso and arms. When I was younger I was fascinated with process of scabbing. My parents always told me to stop picking at sores, or they’d leave permanent marks. “The more you pick at it, the longer it takes to heal.” I never listen. I’d injure myself playing baseball, or just doing random kid things because I’m super clumsy, and I’d be so excited to see the scab come so I could pick it off, and watch the whole process again of the blood clotting and new skin forming. I’d continue to pick at them, starting the process over and over and over again. Turns out, my parents were right. It was just amazing to see how to body took care of itself even when I purposely did things to damage it, and here some 30 years later, I’ve got the scars to prove it. Here I am; a grown ass man, still picking scabs in more ways than I knew imaginable. I’m constantly reopening old wounds and not allowing myself to heal. I’ve also taught my body that this is normal, so I’ve got some things to unlearn.

Adulting can hit you hard. You get to an age where suddenly, you’re responsible for your own doctor’s appointments, bills, choosing insurance, and so many other adult decisions that your parents have always done, but didn’t really teach you about. With that comes the stress of making sure you make the right decisions and that you actually take care of yourself. For those you read the last post, I kept my therapy appointment, so I don’t owe you any money. I owe myself an apology for all the lies I’ve been perpetuating, but that’s a horse of a different color.

Therapy was super heavy. I knew it would be and I expected it, but my therapist is a really good listener. She asked very pensive questions, which makes it really hard to lie about things. I found myself being completely honest about my feelings for the first time. I talked about my last breakup and my future plans, my childhood and all kinds of trauma that I honestly had pushed so far in the back of mind, and I really had to go a find it. One question she asked me really stuck with me in a way that I’m still deliberating whether or not I answered it correctly. I’ve been on meds before for bipolar disorder II, seasonal depressive disorder, and anxiety. She posed the question of how I was doing so well without any of those meds in place right now. I told her I was self-medicating through weed, alcohol, and vitamin supplements. (She also giggled when I said I had a vitamin D deficiency so I knew she was the one. I really do take vitamin supplements for Vitamin D tho, so keep your minds out of the gutter.)

Being this honest with a stranger who is absolutely listening to everything I say made me a bit uneasy, but she wants to take baby steps and see how I respond to the sessions first, which I can appreciate. I can see why, especially in the black community, there is such a negative stigma against mental health services. We traditionally don’t enjoy being vulnerable and black men are taught that having any type of emotion is anti-masculine. I’m not here for stigmas. Fuck your thoughts. This level of transparency led me to be extremely introspective and I’m discovering a lot of shit about Marcus.

Honestly, the last few years took a toll on me emotionally and just like any other Aerian, I just kept on ticking through like shit was normal. I’ve been faced with my own mortality a few times, relived a few childhood traumas through other family members, confessed some things to myself and others, and watched loved ones become sick and pass away, starting with the death of my first boyfriend. After his passing, I wrote a piece called “Grieving in Silence,” where I explored the woes of dating a DL man and the emptiness it leaves you with to know that you’re the only person who gets to hold those memories. Since his death, every relationship that ends feels very similar. It likened to a death and I’m literally eliminating existences of whole human beings from my psyche. My therapist forced me to explore these feelings and bring them back to the forefront of my mind because I’ll never be a whole person if I continue to ignore the roots of so many of my mental struggles. Funneling feelings is what got me to depression and suicidal thoughts. Covering these scars won’t make them go away either. When I moved into my apartment in October, I cleansed my home of the existence of previous memories, so those physical mementoes don’t exist. It’s like Summer Walker alluded to in “Session 32” when she said, “Threw away your love letters; Thought it’d make me feel better.” We release ourselves of the physical attachment and hope that it cleanses our mind, but this session made me realize that it absolutely does not. That work begins where it started; in the heart and in the mind.

Now, I have regularly scheduled sessions every two weeks. I’m a planner so I’m making an agenda of topics for our sessions (fight me, bitch). Pretty sure I’m wasting my time with that, but I’m not going in unprepared for any of it. I’m trying to see this growth, bih. It’s a journey. These scars are apart of who I am, and they remind me of how far I’ve come. I’m going back Friday, so we can continue our conversation, but I’m going with a different lens. I want her to help me heal some of these scabs by not picking at them. It relieves temporary itch, but causes so much long-term damage. I’m breaking cycles this year and allowing myself to feel my feelings, but having an honest soliloquy every now and then about what I want and need to be successful. I can do it. I believe we all owe it to ourselves to be free of everything that binds us and keeps us in spaces that are unhealthy for us. I won’t be a prisoner to my emotions. I’m confronting every feeling and not giving negative things the space they need to exist in my life. I feel like this is gonna be super scary, but the results are gonna be sooooo dope. So here we go, bitches. Buckle the fuck up.

Plug: If you have any of the feelings I’ve mentioned in previous posts, contact your employer/insurance to see what behavioral health benefits exist for you. Seek help. People are going to talk about you REGARDLESS. Let them talk about how healthy you are mentally and physically. Maybe, you’ll inspire someone to do the same.