I have had quite the journey with accepting myself. I did not exactly receive love from my parents, seeing as they were very neglectful and manipulative. I always felt less than no matter how many accomplishments I garnered. I had a journey with colorism that I had to face on my own and educate myself on. It got to the point where I would not want to go outside during the summer because I did not want to get darker. I saw the privilege in being lighter and the opportunities that came with it. All the light skin guys got to be in relationships and had better luck with teachers. All the lighter skin people on tv were successful and more palatable than the darker, often sassy, and unappealing side character. This is what I consumed as a child and digested it into my psyche. Looking back on elementary school I even bullied other dark skin kids, as they did the same, without really knowing what we were doing. If I have any regrets that is for sure one of them. I understand the trauma behind not loving your skin. I eventually grew and learned and adapted to a more educated state of mind. I still consumed a lot of colorism in the media, especially during the era of the social app, Vine. As I continue to grow I look back each time and wonder how I ever was in that place.
However, that was not my only journey I had to battle alone. Living with verbally abusive parents, who were neglectful, narcissistic, and manipulative eventually takes a toll on you. In 2013, I fell into a deep depression that lasted 5 years. I could not get out of it and I felt like I could not tell a soul. I was still very much myself, but I could not find love. I developed abandonment issues that I still have today. I made several attempts on my life, that no one knew about. All the while still maintaining high grades, being a contributing member of society, participating at church, and being a strong support system. I was strong for everyone but myself. I was in denial for most of that period, telling myself that I was not depressed. No matter what, I believe God kept me alive for a purpose. God kept telling me to tell someone, but the truth was the burden and the stigma, especially in black churches, with depression was too much for me to bear. I kept telling myself it was just me and God against the world. I even tried to compromise with God and ask him to tell someone for me and I would talk with them. I could not tell anyone the extent and weight of my story. No one even believed the smaller stories I would say about what I deal with according to my parents, or walk with God, or different struggles, so how would they believe my depression. I went to conference after conference, prayer meeting after prayer meeting but there was no hope. In 2018, I went to an event where someone ministered and it gave me courage and strength. God provided the perfect person for me to tell. Someone new who had no expectations or knew my reputation and someone I felt comfortable opening up to. The night I told my sister in christ about it, I was instantly delivered. I still deal with a lot of trauma and bullying in my home, but I can survive and know that I can cope better and know I have a future. Before 2018, I never could see a future where I even graduated because I thought I would die before then. I found love and self validation in my own self and in God's love. I feel unconditional love even if its not from those who you would expect it from. As I grow, I love myself and others more.