Openly Broken- "An Exert" Poem

Let Me Be Clear...Why not include all races!!!!

Let me make this absolutely clear! The purpose for this blog is not to exclude other races that deal with depression.  That is NOT my intent.  I specifically dedicate this blog to African American women dealing with depression simply because there is not enough time and energy put towards this issue on any level.

For the most part, I've grown up not really hearing the word depression unless it was on T.V or spoken about in some abstract way.  For me, depression meant sad.  My interpretation of Depression was "having a bad day."  When someone told me they were depressed I expected them to be able to tell me why.  And the "why" was usually, a loved one died, a bad break-up, or something unexpected happened in their life which caused them to be sad for a period of time.

These types of depression that I understood usually lasted up to six months.  I don't think I ever encountered anyone that verbally expressed to me feeling of depression without a reason, and the feeling never lasted greater than six months.

In different scenarios in my life where I've expressed feelings of sadness I was met with a look of suprise.  If there was any concern it was a curious concern.  They needed to know the cause of the feeling so they can offer words or services that would make my feelings change.  Whenever I couldn't express why I woke up sad for no reason I was met with a little confusion.

There always had to be a reason.  It was always fixable.  And when the person saw that there was no easy or simple solution, I was told to pray.  "Rebuke that feeling and send it back to the pit of hell from whence it come."  Honestly, I still very much believe in this power to cast down negative feelings and emotions, but there must be an action performed.  Depression will never just go away on its own.

My relationship with God is without a doubt one of my strongest methods of dealing with depression. But what He has revealed to me is that simply praying for the bad feeling to go away "at that particular moment" is not enough.  I had to dig a little deeper.  I'm still digging.

Even now as I address this need, (because it is a need for African American women to recognize certain things going on in their minds, bodies and spirit) I feel like new ground is breaking.

TURN THE PAGE...

"TURN THE PAGE"

A MESSAGE OF HOPE FROM AUTHOR PHILLIP BERRIAN

“…Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

John 14:27

The other day I had the pleasure of having a conversation with a fellow Facebook friend.  His name is Phillip Berrian and he’s an author.  His message is simple: hope.  When we talked he said, “People are so angry and depressed.  They’ve gone through so many things.”  Phillip uses his writings to help people overcome their worst moments.

When I asked him how he proposes they do this, he said, “Turn the page from negative to positive.”  He said that his late grandmother Rosie Ballard Coward always told him that, “if you stay negative mentally you will not get anywhere, but you have to let go of things that have happened to you and try to focus on positive things.”

These words are so true.  So many times we often replay the worst moments of our lives over and over in our heads.  Replaying these moments only reinforces the negativity and the negative feelings and emotions that come with it.  But if you turn the page from negative to positive you can begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

We are all writing our own book.  Page 1 may have had the bitter but if you could just keep moving and turn the page to page 2 then and only then can you experience the sweet.

Phillip Berrian is the author of “The Testimonial of One’s True Greatness” and in it he shares uplifting messages about how he overcame many obstacles in his life.  Berrian believes that your “test will always become your testimony.”


To purchase Phillip Berrian' "The Testimonial of One's True Greatness" please click here!

The Strong Black Woman

I used to love Alicia Keys' song, "Superwoman".  There was a part of that song that goes like this:

"...even when I'm a mess

 I still put on a vest

 With an S on my chest

 Oh yes

 I'm a superwoman"

Hearing those words sung in Alicia's down to earth sultry voice made my chest swell and my head rise a little higher.  I agreed with Alicia that even when I'm a mess, I still manage to pull it together smile and make a way.

The problem was, things always seemed to be a mess and I was finding myself being Superwoman more than I got the chance to just be Candace.

Even Superman got the opportunity to just be Clark Kent every once in awhile.  The problem with being a super hero is the lack of appreciation of the great lengths you go to, to make sure that everything and everyone is okay.

The fact is Superman and Superwoman are ficticious characters.  They're not real and they don't exist.  We may feel like superwomen but we are not.

So what is being a Superwoman in the context that Alicia Keys sings about?  What are the qualifications?  The song seems to suggest that even though situations are not so great I can still pull it together some how and be great within myself.  That sounds so good.

But what happens when this becomes expected of you.  African American women have always been identified as strong and we've relished in that fact.  But somewhere along the line this strength became a requirement and expected of us.

I was watching a very popular show the other day called "Empire" the other night and I felt so bad for one of the main characters "Cookie".  Her character is played by Taraji P. Henson, a very good African American actress who is the mother of a few of the main characters on the show.  But one thing I realized about Cookie's character is that she continues to go through so much.  She is often complimented by her sons and sons father about being "strong".

I watched last nights episode and I felt so sorry for her.  Needless to say she had to endure a situation that shouldn't be asked of anyone for the sake of anything.  But of course she was expected to just "grin and bare it" to keep the family together.

I'm hoping to use this blog as a platform to express the serious needs for changes in the way we--African American woman look at ourselves and what we expect from ourselves.  If we don't change the way we treat ourselves and stand up for ourselves and say "this is too much" or "I don't want to put up with this" then we can never expect for our image to change.

It sounds good to hear someone say how strong you are and how great it is that you've persevered through so many challenges in your life, but it just isn't realistic that we can go on carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders.  Nor should we expect our daughters to grow up feeling like they have to bear the past in these present circumstances.

Candace

Be anxious for nothing!

HONEST MOMENT!

I was having a very serious conversation with a lady that has become a very important person in my life.  She's my spiritual counselor.  When I first learned that I was dealing with depression it was a little hard to accept.  Being an African American woman there wasn't much talk on the subject.  I'm actually trying to think about it now when had I ever had a legitimate conversation with another Black woman about Depression.  It seemed like something "other" people dealt with.  Not the women in my circle and definitely not me.

When I decided to move from my home town and get a fresh start I moved in with this lady who I never met.  We'd actually only talked over the phone a few times but I desperately needed help.  She took me and my boys in and counseled me almost daily for the few months that I lived with her.

Well even though I'm much better now occasionally we talk.  Our talks are usually right before I feel like I'm about to have a mini breakdown.  One of our last talks she said something to me that I haven't been able to let go of.

I was telling her how I knew I needed to have a conversation with someone but I'd been putting it off. She immediately stopped me and said that I needed to handle that situation as soon as possible because knowing this was created anxiety within me and giving me feelings of depression.

I honestly couldn't argue with anything she said.  I realized that this basically summed up my whole experience with depression.   I don't know when it became okay and acceptable for me to not be able to express my thoughts and feelings to people.  I don't know when I began to feel like my thoughts and feelings weren't worthy enough to heard.

I wish I could say that I immediately began to make changes.  I did at that time but of course there's always something! One thing I can say is this: I now realize that I am the source of my pain, but I have the power at any time to alleviate it.

I AM...A Strong Black Woman!

I am a strong black woman.
I don't want to be.
Don't believe the hype.
I need to be.
I have to be in order to survive in this world.
If I'm not I will be gobbled up and then  regurgitated, my remains a visual aid used as an example to others that will come after me.


I am a strong black woman.
I don't choose to be.
I don't want to be.
I have to be,

I don't claim the title with pride.
I don't shout it with arrogance.
I don't say it so you'll tremble with fear.
It's not a strike against the black man's manhood.

I wasn't strong until I had to be.
This is about survival.

They don't love me.
They don't love this strong black woman,
The men don't.
The sons don't.
The daughters don't.
The others won't.

Most days I don't.
I can't love pain. And my pain has produced strength.

Untitled Poem by Candace Smith

We us…all of us women.

 We make up one woman, with one voice.

 We are one. 

One shape.

  One color.

 Black. 

Our individual shades and curves make up one body. 

Just as the body has many curves and grooves with fades of shades of a pallet of brown.

We are different.

 We each serve a purpose.

 But we are one.

We have one plight. 

One cry.

 One voice. 

Are we heard. 

We are confused because we each say something different.

No one has to kill us because we kill ourselves.

 Our body (because we are one body) fight each other. 

The cells that were created to protect turn on each other and attack. 

We, if united would be very strong. 

But we are not.