‘No, I didn’t say that; that’s not an accurate representation of what I said.’
I didn’t do anything wrong, actually.
I feel like this stance is a repeated pattern or chorus in my life. I feel like I’m on the defense more than is natural. Other people are normal players in the drama of life, the theater, the tournament or production; and I myself am constantly defending my position or my existence. Rather than breathing normally and existing in a natural way, I’m always on the defense, always having to ward off abuse or harm from the next malignant actor. Life starts to become scary and threatening, this way; it’s not enjoyable or natural anymore.
I’ve actually been schizoaffective since I was 12. And so I’m diagnosed with paranoid delusions and infrequent hallucinations, and depression. These days, it’s hard to tell whether my feelings of persecution and ill treatment are based on real-life occurrences, or whether they’re partly imagined. I do feel that I’m being watched and stalked, but I don’t know whether it’s all due to my disorder, or whether it’s somewhat real and going on in real life. I’m on 7.5 mg of my antipsychotic right now; I probably should be on more, a higher dose. I’d been medicated since age 13.
I think the fact that I’m a black woman, a dark-skinned black woman, isn’t really helping with my aura and my ambiance when I’m out and about. People have a negative misconception about black women, they think a lot of us are angry and difficult, and unpleasant to be around. I actually don’t like being near other people that much—I don’t like intermingling—and I’m extremely shy sometimes. I don’t really talk to strangers that much. I like reading books, and watching documentaries and movies. I’m the youngest in my family, of a family of three kids. I often felt like I was an only child; I didn’t really have a very close relationship with my two siblings. I’m diagnosed schizoaffective disorder, as aforementioned. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life; I’m starting a class in architectural drafting this coming Fall 2022 semester. I’m gonna see if it works out for me. I guess I always have the graphic design idea to fall back on in case all else fails, in case all other aspirations and plans fail. But then again, I feel that I’ve outgrown the graphic design aspiration; it’s not stimulating anymore. Six or seven years of constant digital art and infographics and etc. has sucked the fun out of it, for me; a few volunteer design experiences—legitimate volunteer experiences—have also drained the interest from me. It was very inspiring while it lasted; the dream was legit. I just feel that perhaps I lost the newness of it, I lost the spark for it, the real passion for it. That said, I feel that I did some very interesting and unique illustrations and designs throughout the majority of my 20s; I might have done one just the other day, actually. It was a line drawing about income inequality, or something; it was something of a sociopolitical statement about wealth and how it’s unevenly distributed…and yet it depicted that social welfare and social support can lead people into meaningful lives, despite the existence of a bourgeoise class.. or something like that. It was very interesting, I think it was a keeper of an illustration. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it incorporated many different sociopolitical stances and beliefs. It was a visual conglomerate (mashup) of several types of stances and beliefs. | And so I think I really do have a flair for visual design and art; line art, simple drawings and figures…and even complex designs and renderings; multidimensional images and pictures. I actually think I could have broken in as a unique and strong designer; I could have made it. It’s somewhat sad that this career choice has dissipated; I just don’t feel that it’s really my main calling, anymore.
~
It’s been kind of weird and bizarre for the past few years—for the past fifteen years, actually. I’ve had a lot of problems with my family; with various random strangers; with myself; with my mental health condition; with god himself, too. It’s been difficult, but there’s no point crying over spilled milk, and difficult times. I think most of the screaming and insults (and physical abuse) that I’ve had to endure was uncalled for, it was unnecessary…but I don’t blame the perpetrators at all; everyone acts according to their own level of maturity and understanding, at any given moment. I’d like to think I tried my best in the difficult moments of my own life. I don’t despise my life, I think every life has value and meaning. I’m 28; by the time I’m 38, I want to have acquired peace of mind, and a want a prayer schedule that I follow on a daily basis, and that I rarely skip. I don’t feel that I really have to offer the five daily prayers of my Muslim faith perfectly and methodically, but if I could perform two of them or whatever on a daily basis; and if I could read the holy scripture of my faith; and practice quietude and non-aggression, do-no-harm; then that’s all I really want. I want, by the time I’m 38 or so, to really have peace of mind and an eased soul. I don’t want a turbulent psyche even when I’m pushing 40, even when I’m nearing 40 years old. That would literally be crazy, that would be too much. It’s better to nip it in the bud now, before too much time passes. You have to clear your soul now, before a decade or even another hour passes.
I ask Allah swt to help us all move forward in the best way, and to forgive and guide us. -ameen.
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