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About to be super transparent, so y’all fuck with me for a sec. I’m gonna talk about mental health a lil bit. To some, this maybe a bit too much information... But I’m sharing this in hopes that it’ll help someone. Specifically my brown brothers of the rainbow...
I do wanna warn you, this maybe triggering to some... It maybe a little too dark for some... I don’t care. Even if I lose followers for this, I just know it’ll help somebody. And as raunchy and potty mouthed as I can be, I believe in God. And I feel he’s leading me to share this.
I’ve lived dark ass life. I’ve always been effeminate, which lead to harassment and bullying my entire life. I was molested from 3-5 then 7-10 years old. My father passed when I was 16. My best friend passed when I was 20. I dealt with “coming out” issues from ages 20-38.
From ages 17-20, I had sex for money. Yes, I was a prostitute. I left my fiancé in 2014 because he was cheating on me. In 2015 I was date raped. Add to that the pressures of being a gay black man living in the Bible Belt. Whew... I’m really fucked up...
So with all that being said, it’s not surprising that I have some mental health issues. I’ve been very transparent about my battle with depression, anxiety, and body dysmorphia, so unsurprisingly, I’ve always lived in my head.
I know I come across as extroverted, light hearted, and jovial, but I’m actually an introvert. And being that way had me thinking there was nothing wrong with me. It wasn’t until I started seriously dating that I was told I’m not normal.
My first example is when a guy I was dating told me “You’re always at one extreme or the other.” And he was right! None of my relationships worked because I was mentally EVERYWHERE... About 4 years ago, I dated a guy that really brought everything to light.
We always argued, and a lot of our arguing was a result of me keeping things internalized and then exploding. When I would try to explain my thought process on why I didn’t communicate things, he’d look at me like I’m crazy. And he would basically explain why everything
about that time way of thinking was wrong. I’d explain that being around him at times gave me crippling anxiety, and how my feelings were valid... No matter how fucked up they were... They were valid... And he’d condescendingly explain why nothing I was saying made sense.
