I knew before graduating that me not leaving college with a job set in stone would raise eyebrows about what I was doing. Even if I was writing an entire book that I told everybody about a million and one times. It wouldn’t be enough because it wasn’t tied directly to immediate income. It was just enough to satisfy the moment, but I heard the quiet whisper behind everybody’s tone saying, “but what else?”

She doesn’t understand the mental turmoil that I go through. She didn’t understand the processing I had to go through to be okay with even saying that out loud. And instead of being met with empathy and understanding, my diagnosis was demonized and rebuked. Mental illness and mental health is not demonic, it is a part of humanity. Stuff like this is partially why the black church is so far behind. There is no real safe space for the human parts of us that are not pretty. We demonize what we don’t understand and our egos are too big to call things what they are. Laying at the altar, praying against the “spirit” and doing all that running, jumping and shouting is not the solution to real mental health struggles. Some things require medicine or therapy. We really need more education, tools and resources, if we want to effectively save souls. 

I didn’t really have anything to say to her when she said it, I was so shocked. But, as I looked at her I saw fear. She was scared of what being bipolar meant for me. She was scared of what it meant for her. If I confront my demons, it would force her to look at hers. I knew it was projection. I also knew she was indoctrinated, I knew that her growing up and having mental health issues reduced to “spirits’ affected how she would be able to receive what I was saying. I also knew that she had shown signs of religious psychosis. So, I did my best to not take it personally because she really wasn’t even speaking to me at all, she was speaking to her own demons.  And honestly as I look back I feel bad. For her. For the people who aren’t as strong-minded as me that went to people like her aching for a safe space to be met with a brick wall. I felt bad for all the souls she missed out not being able to see outside of herself and her own trauma. 

But, this is the reality of mental health in black families. It just isn’t talked about enough. And half of our family members aren’t even emotionally intelligent enough to have a productive conversation about it. 

Yesterday, I treated my family horribly.

The day started off great—I felt perfectly fine. As the day went on, I went down to take a nap, and when I woke up, I felt different. Very irritable. I started ignoring my family’s messages, isolating myself, and being as nasty as possible through my body language as a means to push them away—without just saying something was wrong with me. Childish, I know.

I didn’t even realize this was what I was doing at first. I just knew I felt off and didn’t want to be bothered. I went to do my sister’s hair, and instead of chatting with her like I usually do, I put in my headphones and turned on some gospel music. For the first time in my life, the music just wasn’t hitting.

 Everytime I post a new blog it feels like I am doing exactly what God wants me to do; like the space that I’m in makes complete sense and I feel like I am unlocking something deep within myself that I never knew was there. Being able to inspire and encourage others is just the icing on the cake. 

I have to be real though. Ever since I have unlocked this level of purpose in my life, it feels like everything else around me has been shaken up. I think this is a natural part of truly allowing God to lead your life and your decisions, but I would be lying if I said I was prepared for it. The things that I once felt called to, I no longer feel that same pull and as I realize that I am living in the middle of so many answered prayers, I can’t help, but wonder why I prayed for them at all.

I feel like every-time I log on nowadays I always say it’s been a lot going on lately. That’s really the nature of being a senior in college, but that’s also the nature of who I am called to be. To whom much is given, much is required and I have been having to live this out at a new level this year. To be frank, I am exhausted mentally and my physical health is beginning to be a reflection of that. I constantly wake up tired, I am not motivated to do anything, I dread every responsibility I signed up for and I can feel myself slipping back into what’s familiar, but no longer serves me. I understand God is stretching me to prepare me for my next, but man am I exhausted.

Lately, there has been a lot going on in life. Before I came to school I was dreading it because I just knew it was going to be a lot, I just didn’t anticipate what type of “a lot” it was going to be. Even when I talk to my friends and sister we all have had a lot going on, mentally. One thing I have noticed is that oftentimes I am never going through things alone, it’s always someone in my life that is near where I am at. I am grateful God always shows me I am not alone in the things I deal with and being able to converse with trusted people typically settles my spirit. I love that this life wasn’t made to be experienced alone, we need community and I am grateful to have that in the very few people that I do. It often helps me to be grateful too because once we get together and have complained until we had nothing else to say you realize that it really wasn’t that serious. People pray for the types of things I go through; it’s a privilege to struggle in student leadership, it’s a privilege to have a hard time paying for stuff in your own apartment with your own bathroom and it is a privilege to be given burdens just for you to bear because as we know there is no burden without a blessing (and vice versa).

So, I am currently sitting in this class called, “Value Creation” and we’re talking about creating value for companies. My professor mentioned something that stood out to me while he was lecturing. He made the point that for most companies when we are talking about creating value, it is monetary. My professor made the point that if the investor put $1 in and only received a return of $1, then you didn’t create value for the company. Obviously, this concept is very simple, but it made me think about my approach to marketing and my issues with it, especially as a marketing major in my final year of school. 

This Summer, after my junior year of college, with God’s counsel, I made the decision to quit my job at home and not work at my job at school.

My experience with introversion started young. Ever since I can remember I’ve been an introvert, constantly consumed with my own daydreams, inner monologue and quiet time. It occurred naturally for me, but around 5th grade, I noticed a shift. 5th grade was the year I recognized I had a voice. It was a year of awareness for me. I began to notice the life around me that I wanted to participate in; the instruments I wanted to play, the people I wanted to be friends with, the clothes I wanted to wear, the activities I wanted to participate in. For the first time, I was able to see the world in a way that felt tangible, and I was ready to put my hands in everything within my reach. 

For the past few days, I’ve been contemplating what I wanted to come back and write about, but nothing was really inspiring me to keep writing, so I waited. And then, the news broke that President Biden was dropping out of the Election. And then, the news broke that he endorsed Vice President Kamala Harris to be the Official Democratic Presidential Nominee.

Ok, so the title is a little extreme. The truth is you are whatever you believe. But on the day that is representative of our liberation from slavery, Juneteenth, I wanted to acknowledge a few of the psychological chains we have that still keep us bound.

Girlllll, I love you! But, I think somewhere in the last decade we lost the plot. Before we get into it, I want to preface this by saying that this is all meant in love. I want us to be better and make more informed decisions on the guys we date and why we date them. Most importantly, I need us to be honest with ourselves about certain expectations that we have for men, especially as teenagers and women in our early 20’s.

Once people get to know me they always say, “Tyler you’re not who I expected you to be, I thought you were —- (insert words like super holy, uppity, boujee etc). Initially it would make me smile because it made me feel as though people were beginning to understand me for who I really am. But, as I matured, I began to question what it was that gave people a perception of me that is 1) misconstrued and 2) not how I intended to present myself.