We really underestimate every shades of mental health. I hear that I’m a very strong child. That I have faced a lot and came out stronger than I was. I didn’t even know how strong I was. My strength still amazed me but I do not take for granted every support I have gotten.

I’ve talked about the community I grew up in. As much as my parents tried to shelter us we still saw and experienced a lot. Every form of child abuse, although done hushly was still the norm. I got beat up and marginalized because I stood up for some children. Beat up by adults who should have known better. Now that I’m older I know the power of conscience and intuition. I know that every human has it but sensuality stifles it at some point when permitted. The beatings and bullying scarred me somewhat.

When I lost one of my childhood best friends.
Grief and death are topics we dare not talk about. Even when there are no words to accurately describe them we still choose not to acknowledge these state of health. They are shrouded in religion bad faithlessness in the unknown. Years later, we are still smarting and hurting from what we’ve refused to talk about or acknowledge. The cycle continues. It’s just like a sore that has been covered and left to fester.

I thought to share.