Loud Mouth Brown Girl

Not everyone who needs the space to heal gets what they need. That’s just a fact, we are fond of saying “The system failed…” but the truth is that society is failing, as a whole.

We are a failed experiment. We claim that we want to help the most marginalized among us, and yet we refuse to shop local or buy from independent artists unless the internet gives us permission to support.

Less and less I’m seeing people volunteer in their communities, and more and I’m hearing “I just can’t handle the outside world,” bitch, neither can those who live there, that’s why they need us.

But but but, when you are in a state of recovery – when you’re in a recovery program, or an institution designed to help you heal – you have permission to focus on that. And if you’re not in a facility, but you are focusing on your mental health, people excuse that as well.

But you have to actually “Do the work.” Lots of people hear that, but what exactly does it mean?

It means understanding that the way our thought patterns manifest themselves after abuse is not necessarily our fault. We didn’t choose to be abused, and the abuse does cause brain damage; it breaks us in ways doctors and mental health Professionals don’t know how to quantify.

We have to learn to be more empathetic; some of us, myself included, are used to thinking that what happened to us is the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone, let alone a child. And then we hear someone else’s story, and we realize we don’t know what terror really is.

We have to change our behaviours; behaviours that have often been a part of protecting ourselves in a world that wants everything about us to burn. That’s a really difficult one, because the transition from “Traumatized victim,” to “Healing survivor,” isn’t an easy one. It doesn’t happen overnight, and regardless of what others may think, it’s also not a choice.

We don’t “Choose” to be survivors; we figure out a way to survive because, mainly in my case, I didn’t want to die at the hands of disgusting, creepy white men.

But “Surviving” isn’t just about getting through the initial trauma; it’s all the stuff that comes after that we have to deal with: Dreams, nightmares, constant triggers and reminders, which is precisely why so many folks turn to drugs and alcohol.

Which often leads to more abuse, and shame, and guilt, because if you’d just been stronger, am I right?! Except abuse isn’t about you. You could be anyone in the world, and the abuser will come up with 10,000 reasons as to why it’s your fault, you’re to blame, and if you didn’t exist, they’d be a better person.

I often wonder if I had been murdered, if anyone would have found the body. I wonder because I cannot. They tried to kill me that night, and while some of the men kept me safe, it was only so they could “have their turn,” not because they cared about my safety.

Now that I am here, people all over the world are looking to me as if I have some majickal clue as to how to get through trauma, when my only advice is to do what your body needs.

In my case, I needed to scream, cry, dance, yell, freak out, and get medicated before I could deal with the sheer volume of how much I’d had to deal with in my so very young life.

No one should go through what we all go through when it comes to abuse and the ensuing trauma. No one. Period. But because we do, the responsibility falls upon the healed to have all the answers, to get it always right, but that’s just not the reality.

No one fucks up more than someone who is trying to heal. They get up, they’re convinced they’re ready for the fight – to get off the drugs, to get healthy, to build a life – and then life throws them a curve, or someone decides they don’t get to live, and their life is over before you know.

I’ve lost plenty of people to drug overdoses, but most of the folks I’ve lost in my life, are people who have been murdered or otherwise killed by the gang life they were living.

Too many times I’ve found out about someone I love in a fucking newspaper, and on Facebook. Twitter or other social media apps.

It’s so hard to heal when you see people “Dropping like flies,” all around you, from shit they can’t control. But you have to keep going, you can’t let the dead bodies, the bad memories, or the sadness, fear, anxiety, and depression stop you.

PTSD is a battle; it’s a fight for one’s soul. It’s not something that we choose to fight; it’s something that we have to fight because if we don’t, we’ll die. There was a time when “only Soldiers could get PTSD”. Now it’s something that people all over the world are very deeply accustomed to. Specifically, people in war zones.

If you are healing and healed from trauma, it’s because you had the space and freedom to take care of your mental health and whatever demons might be holding you back.

Not everyone has that. Most folks end up on the street because they have nowhere to go, and family and friends are exhausted. They’re tired of being lied to, robbed from, and abused by people who “Claim” to love them, but in reality are too damaged to love anyone but their addiction.

I’ve seen addiction take thousands over the years I worked at the Church, and I always knew I didn’t want to go out that way. Which is why I made the choice to leave, which is why I literally burned the ties that bind me to anything in my past by building this website.

I wanted to set myself free in ways no one else had before, so I could heal, and the more that I shared, the better I felt. Few people reached out to me to say, “Hey, thanks,” or “I appreciate you coming forward.” Others have warned me to be careful and to protect my peace. Some of you have told me to shut my mouth, but in all ways, I keep going, keep pushing every day to be better than yesterday.

There was a lot I didn’t know how to do when I was in the church, a lot of day-to-day functional shit that most adults do every day that was completely foreign to me. I was more privileged than I was able to understand, and being stripped of all that privilege that I thought I needed to survive changed the game.

Now I have new privileges, a new social circle, and an entirely new life. It’s like all that stuff that happened in the past, happened to someone else, not me, an entirely different version of me that I’ve never met, but that I’m kind of terrified of.

She experienced all that shit, so I could exist as the non-binary faerie writer in front of you today. I’m proud of her without a doubt, but I honestly don’t know that person or anyone she knew.

I just woke up one day, and my life was different. I think it’s because I was as honest as I was capable of being in the early years, but I also think it’s because I am finally free to say, “This is the real Devon. Conscious, aware, undrugged, and ready to take on the world.”

This is the first year in my entire life that I am free of drugs, put into my body by gross, creepy, disgusting, freak men, who liked abusing children. This is the first year in my entire life that I am thoroughly clean of all substances, including alcohol, other than my daily meds and cannabis.

I’m proud of the choices I made to get here, but I wouldn’t, in all honesty, be here if not for my mom. She made choices, too, and those choices affected me for most of my life, but now? It’s all on me, and that’s fucking terrifying.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall, The Original Loud Mouth Brown Girl

Tips for those struggling with their mental health:

• Start a journal or blog – it seems trite, but having a space that is all yours to share your feelings will help, and give you something to look back at over time.
• Exercise – even if it’s going for a walk, get some fresh air. Being cooped up all the time will only keep you sick.
• Talk to someone you trust, a friend or a colleague, or reach out online. But find someone, no one survives alone.
• Get creative – Make something that only you can make. You’ll be surprised at how functionally using your depression, can change the game.