Anyway so for the past year I worked at a call center in order to pay for the bills and try to enjoy life. Now this job was at first a blessing and helped pay for a lot of things, but then slowly sucked me dry. Have you ever worked at a call center? No, well it's basically doing crisis management all day and being the customers therapist, while still being call and happy and making sure you crushing every part of your stats. It's like you are a beginner clown trying to juggle like 10 balls and you only know how to juggle 5. A Shit Show.
So I have been working there and trying to maintain healthy relationships and focus on myself. Well as time went on, I realized (Thanks to my therapist) that I have a nasty habit of putting my mental health dead fucking last. Like I will try to give my all for work and my friends and potential relationships, and then totally forget that I need to give to myself too. And when you work at a call center like I do, your mental health gets drained on the daily. Imagine a cup filled with water that's all yours, and then someone grabs and drinks it before you can get a taste. Then when your cup is empty they ask you to give more. You can't pour from an empty cup. So I decided to make a little change.
I started to find time for myself every day where I put myself first. In the words of Auntie Maxine, I "Reclaimed My Time." and for the relationships and friendships in my life, it was working really well. I felt heard and relaxed and free. My cup was being replenished But when I was at work, I can't simply tell the customer to back the fuck off because I high key need my job. But the more I worked, the more I realized that my cup was being emptied and dried out. I felt like my cup was being left out in the desert. The more drained I felt, the more my depression and anxiety heightened and going crazy. That's when the panic attacks started.
My panic attacks are in the form of nausea, vomiting, freezing, shaking, over-analyzing, and generally just a grand fucked up time. So when they started happening, I knew that it was time for a big change.
Which brings us here. I am writing to you while drinking my tea and on Medical Leave.
Being on Medical Leave is probably one of the best decisions that I could have made in 2018 yet. I was worried at first because I know that mental health isn't viewed seriously and when you tell someone that you are having panic attacks and that you also have PTSD, depression, and anxiety, they usually give you this look of perplexity and dash of compassion (you know the look). Then you have the inner critic as well telling you that you ain't shit and that you are failure. And then you have that one person (for me it was my therapist) who tells you and reminds you that your feelings are valid and that you need to replenish yourself. And for me, that's all I needed to stop the critics and avoid the stairs and actually Reclaim My Time.
Being a Black woman living in America comes with a lot. We are expected to provide for everyone and be everyone's shoulder to cry on. We are expected to be strong and bear the burden. We are expected to push our feelings and emotions to side in order to fight the man, be there for the family, and stay strong against all odds. Well, that bullshit stops today. I can still be the strong independent Black woman who cares for everyone else, but still puts herself first. I have mentors from college and Black political figures to show me that. We can do it all but we can't do it all if we don't put your mental health first.
So what's the next step? I don't know. I'm literally taking everything one day if not hour at a time. And that's okay.
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