Check Up on Me!

Older people would tell you that a pretty brown skinned girl like me has not been through anything in life, but they have not even taken the time to check up on me. Growing up a preacher’s kid in a world full of sinners and being expected to do no wrong is hard, it hurts, but no one took the time to check up on me. Trying to be perfect, please my parents, live by the Bible when I knew I was not happy with that steady lifestyle, but I stayed in it because no one would check up on me. Having no voice in a home where my daddy was always working and my mom called all the shots so I was told to shut up and do what I was told even if I did not like it; I wish there was someone who was there to check up on me. Learning at a very young age that my sexual orientation was distasteful to my family and hearing my mom preach about how it was an abomination under the word of God broke my heart so bad, but still no one would check up on me. When I would force myself to be someone I was not so that I could feel loved and be showered with things I thought would be pleasurable to me. It made me feel empty, but no one would check up on me. After the birth of my beautiful baby girl when a dark cloud came over me and I felt like all was lost and diagnosed myself with postpartum because I was ashamed people would think I was crazy, so I did it before the doctors did. Afterwards I became different, I walked different, I talked different, I dressed different, started harming myself and I even thought, “hmm, maybe I am crazy.” My friends that I thought were my friends saw the changes and told me I needed to chill and ducked off on me, but they never came back to check up on me. One verbally, physically and sexually abusive relationship later, I lost my vision, I lost my voice, I lost my sense of intelligence, I lost my sense of love, most of all I lost me, but no one was there to check up on me. Then I began blaming myself and turning into a monster drinking until liquor tasted like water, smoking until my nights became days and I asked my sister “why am I still here?” Instead of her telling me, she told me I needed to get help and after that I gave up all hope that she would ever take time out to check up on me. A year later after destroying my GPA and becoming broker than I’ve ever been physically, mentally, emotionally and financially. I came across a man. This man would tell me I was the most beautiful thing he had seen, and he knew I was smart so he would help me get through school. He wanted me to come over and talk so we could work out something. The first few visits he would give me money to simply sit there and keep him company, the last.... Oh, how I wish I had a friend to check up on me. After that night I felt tainted, I became disgusted with myself, I was the only one to blame. I never spoke about it, I went to the hospital where I was diagnosed with depression, but I refused medication because it was my fault. It was all MY FAULT. I was too busy being wrapped up in being perfect and refraining from being a burden that I expected for someone to check up on me, before I could check up on myself. “Depression?” I say. “As in a mental illness?” These people were calling me sick and after all these years I felt it. “Not me, no way.” A preacher’s kid isn’t supposed to live this way, feel this way, hurt this way, but it’s happening, and it will not stop...

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