Loud Mouth Brown Girl

Lots of cool and famous people have done way cooler shit than start the only mental health blog in the country written by a Black Biracial person. However, none of them have had the struggles I have had, and I haven’t had the struggles they had.

Our journey’s are different, but wouldn’t it be cool if just for one moment you could meet all those people? The ones you would have met if racial, economical, and ability issues were not in the way? I did that once, and it was a truly freeing experience.

First off, it was weird as fuck, because I had to tell all these random strangers, my “audience” if you will, personal details about my life, so they could understand why I am the only Black, Biracial, Non-Binary, Schizophrenic person writing a blog about mental health in this country.

The interesting thing to me was how many of them were curious about whether or not I was okay. So many people, when you do speaking engagements, want to know if you are “Okay.”

No, bitch, I am not. I am deeply fucked up by severe trauma that my doctors think I made up for my own amusement because no one wants to admit Canada has a huge problem with child sex trafficking and abuse.

Phew! No, I am not okay, but I am on the road to being okay. I have amazing friends today, a support system it took me two years to really sink into and trust, and now I feel like I am wrapped up in a nice cozy blanket of love.

However, make no mistake, under that blanket are all number of weapons I use and will continue to use to protect myself. I am very much like a viper waiting for my moment but ever prepared.

I am always afraid that what I have is something that can be taken from me, because every single time I’ve ever felt safe it has been taken. But this time I am not surrounded by people who would let me burn so they can stay warm. I’m surrounded by people who not only would put out the fire, but fight like hell to make sure I had the aftercare I needed.

I remember telling my friend that it does get better, he said I was wrong, and then he ended his life. I hate that, I hate that I didn’t hug him, take him for coffee, but the truth is, there’s nothing I could have done. He was bound and determined to end what otherwise could have been a beautiful life, and I couldn’t stop it because I wasn’t meant to.

I’ve lost all kinds of people to suicide, but the ones that hurt the most aren’t even the people I was closest to. I can in some weird way come to terms with the fact that certain people didn’t want to be here anymore.

It’s the ones who “Had so much potential,” the kids that lost their battle when they were bullied to death, the kids who weren’t loved enough at home, the kids who didn’t have a home. Those ones hurt the most because my bleeding heart was the kid who brought those kids home, and now that I am older, I can’t just bring random strangers home.

Nor would I, but also, it hurts that I have so much when I know what it feels like to have so little. No, I wouldn’t give up what I have to help another, but if I had the ability, I would open the door to share.

That’s what makes me different then the men who abused me. They think they have power because they can cause pain and force you to say things that aren’t true just to make the pain stop, until you forget what’s true and what the lies are.

And when you finally figure it out, the people who don’t want to believe you will find reasons to gaslight you into believing you’re the problem.

Yeah, I figured it out, but it took me years to do it because not one therapist wanted to help me work through this shit, and now I realize that I feel like I am rushing through life without taking the time to appreciate where I am.

For two years I’ve been sitting here in shock just kind of like “what the fuck?” and now I am out of that, and life is still kicking my ass, but I know that’s because the universe likes to keep me scared for her amusement.

I know a lot more about myself today than I share on the blog, and it’s not because I am hiding, it’s because I am digesting.

When you start to peel back the layers of who you are, and the trauma you faced to get to a safe place where you can start doing the work, there’s a bit of shock to the system.

Mainly because as you start to do the deep emotional work, you realize the person you are, isn’t the person the people around you have been forcing you to be, and that’s shocking.

I’m not a church goer – but I’ve been in one church or another since I was a baby. It was only ten years ago when I decided I was done building community through any church based system.

There are other and more relaxed ways to build community that don’t force folks to change who they were born to be, to fit into “God’s comfortable idea of human.”

If I’ve learned anything from my married friends its this: Don’t let who you are fall away in layers, for a man who doesn’t see you stripping away your soul for the shards he deems worthy to share with you.

In other words, don’t let you want to be fade away to impress a man who won’t show up for you when it counts.

One of the other questions I get a lot, especially from doctors is “Do you still fear for your life?” Yes, bitch, because of what I’ve been through I know what is hiding out there, and I also know the good guys did nothing to stop the bad guys, so yes.

But I can’t say that or they’ll tell me I am paranoid, even as I point to social media for examples of women all over the world saying the same damned thing.

One of the highlights of this website for me, is the fact that in private so many of you have opened up and shared your own stories of trauma.

So many of you from around the world have shown that the men in their lives ain’t shit.

But lots of other women, are telling me their partners meet them above and beyond where they are at, so there are some men out there who know how to do the work to be a good husband and father.

I still don’t see the appeal. I am fully comfortable with my life alone, and while it would be nice to introduce someone into my life, I just don’t see anyone whose worth emptying my purse for.

In my life today there is the kind of laughter that doubles me over and has me in actual stiches. There are adventures with friends just because we’re bored and we want to spend time together.

I live ina beautiful place, and I am finding that the longer that I am here, the easier it is to be grateful. I was always resentful of people who told me to be grateful for the scraps I was given after abuse.

This gratefulness is different, because I’ve had time to heal, and because I have resources today I’ve never had access to before. Are you hearing me? People with mental health issues need space.

We are in very real ways broken, shattered, beaten down, and weakend, by the world. We need space to heal and we need the economic support that prevents us from ending up unhoused and discounted.

If the country took care of people with mental health issues the way it does oil workers, then perhaps we’d get somewhere.

I figured it out. I know what I want, I know how to get it, and I am eagerly anticipating all the challenges that come my way because I know I am stronger than the trauma that made me.

And if you’re surprised by that you should really imagine how I feel because no one is more shocked than me, that I exist as I do today.

Anywho that’s the update, hope all is well in your world

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall, The Original Loud Mouth Brown Girl