For about a week or two, I’ve been struggling with my mental health. In all, it has nothing to do with a disability but more so on a war between my thoughts. After a year of dealing with a man who abruptly ended everything without even a goodbye, I began to question my being.
Was I not good enough?
Was it my physical?
Should I have acted a different way?
And the questions continued in that nature.
Perhaps, that indeed does make me a weak woman to question myself; yet, I have always been deemed as a “strong” individual.
The word strong is defined as, able to withstand great force or pressure.
& that sounded like me.
I had in fact believed that I had become a strong woman. Hence, as a child – I had only known my father for the first 13 years of my life as a drug addict, I lost everything I owned twice, watched my mother have a mental breakdown, suffered my own addiction and I too endured a breakdown as well. I survived all of those things and managed to keep fighting in life and felt as though I was indeed a strong woman.
Yet, if I was a strong woman like I believed I was then why on Earth did I question and still do question my own being.
I could imply that these behaviors and thoughts are brought forth by a hidden emotion such as pain, hurt; but, in reality it’s because of this persona I had put on. As women, who are already viewed as highly emotional, unstable creatures, –a rip in one’s emotional fabric is viewed as a flaw. Therefore, I somehow managed to sew all my burdens into a neat outfit. In order for others to view me as a strong woman, I wore this outfit over and over again. Wearing this outfit so much actually covered my inner appearance. I welcomed all the pain because I was so used to it and I welcomed the pattern.
However, I found myself after so many years of wearing the outfit of a strong woman began to look at this appearance as a burden.
And so I got naked.
I sat this last week or so, nude. I viewed every inch of me and I began to notice something. I am a woman. I am a woman whose foundation is not only strong but flawed. I prayed to God as a child to make me better, to make all the pain go away and to change me. Up until two weeks ago, I believed he never answered my prayers. Yet, he did.
He made me – me. I can question who I am all I want. So I knocked down my foundation. I knocked down every inch of me and cried until my head ached. After the tears had dried, I began to dress myself in a different outfit. An outfit with rips, tears, and stains. This outfit truly defined me. And as long as I was comfortable in this then others views of me did not matter. I have accepted me and I don’t need to be a strong woman or even looked at as one, my view on me matters. I view myself as Keiseena, a being who has so much to grow on and regardless of labels such as strong, weak, beautiful, pure, etc. If I don’t view myself as a great individual that I am then true love will never be found.
True love begins with me.