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art·pre·neur: artprəˈnər/ noun, An ARTist breaking boundaries & taking risks and measures to attain his/her goals
Hey guys, check out my blog and share if you enjoy it :)
Amy Faye photographed by Łukasz Pukowiec for Bizuu
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Artsy, nature loving Moroccan Muslim sapphic who loves her girlfriend dearly for anon
[Black] Mental Health
I saw a shrink the other day.. for the first time.
He diagnosed me with having depression, being highly guarded, and being very resentful.
My reaction was to laugh it off, but deep down i was sad because despite having always known i am depressive, having a shrink putting it on paper makes it more real.
I’m supposed to have more tests.. but i know that the results of those tests would add bipolar disorder & agoraphobia to the list. Those are illnesses i know i suffer from, but i don’t want to see them on paper.
I was watching some girl on youtube moments ago.. she suffers from schizophrenia. I got carried by the desire to hug her. I was shaking because i was mentally refraining myself from hugging my computer.. i felt as if i related to her, which is weird because i have never been abused physically. I’ve just suffered regular African parents “abuse” Which is just their way of showing love while being extremely hard on you.. it’s not abuse.. Even though some may consider it as such. It’s true however that my African friends sometimes wonder how i havnt ran away from home. Sadly African parents have a very special way of showing their love.. mine suck at it.. at least to me.
I’m rambling. This girl has been abused, and lost her mother. I havnt experienced such things, so why do i feel ad though i relate to her? The way i feel is more than just compassion. I want to tell her it’s okay though
I for example refuse to let depression & other negative adjectives to refrain me from accomplishing the goals i have set forth for myself. I refuse to do any other visits to the shrink because i don’t want those adjectives to define me.
Thankfully, i don’t have addiction problems, and do not do drugs.. i barely drink (about once a month.. & max 2 glasses). I have tried weed before but i hate the way it makes me feel (lack of control.. which gives me anxiety) so i don’t do weed.. nor do i smoke. & somehow i feel as though once you get diagnosed, and you start “treating” yourself, you’ll become dependent to the medication + other harder drugs.. & eventually just get worst.
I was lucky enough to neither like nor do drugs, but many aren’t so lucky. As for this girl, i can’t get her out of my head. I want to help, but i can’t & it saddens me.
I went on a rant/observation on snapchat about me having only dated “crazy” women. I think i felt delirious for a moment because i dnt really think i’ve dated crazy women (aside from 1 of them.. but she was mostly a witch)
I’ve dated a nympho.. at least at the time she was.. she’s not crazy to me.. she just enjoyed sex, and wanted to have sex with me all the time..& everywhere.
I’ve dated a manipulative person, who only loved the attention i gave her rather than me. I was too blinded by love to realize i was being used.
In an attempt to heal my broken heart, i dated someone despite not loving them. The girl however was crazy though.crazy in love with me.. and did lots of dumb shit that she justified with love. It wasn’t a valid explanation.. not to mention that she is also a witch (till this day)
Finally.. most recently.. i had a fling with someone who was just not ready to be emotionally committed with anyone.. or with me at least.
I called them crazy on snapchat, but i don’t really believe they are (except from the ante penultimate)
Honestly.. i dont know what i was originally talking about.. i think i just needed to vent a bit. Im too lazy to re-read & proofread this.. i’ll leave it as such.
Ultimately however, i’ll say that many times people in the black community do not acknowledge mental health as an issue in the community. Most black people tend to dissociate themselves from the latter because they associate it with caucasian privilege..
I’m usually pretty good at hiding my caucasian issues in the public eye. People tend to describe me as cheerful, wealthy, sarcastic, funny with a hint of meanness ..however, i very much suffer from (minor) mental issues when i’m faced with myself at the end of the day.
I don’t think my case is bad at all. I actually think that many have it worst than me. It deeply saddens me that i can’t do anything to help them.
Something as simple as hugging them.. telling them they’re not alone. That things may or may not get better, but at least they’re not alone.
I know i need a hug 90% of the time. I know that even if i reject people from trying to hug me.. it’s because deep down i wish they would try harder despite the barriers i set forth. I hope they would build a bridge & hug me regardless, and tell me i’m not alone.. however.. they never try harder. They just let me be, and it’s okay too.. i have learned how to self medicate.. but a lot havnt.
Sigh
Edgar de la cambriole <3
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