When the Blues Don’t Move, Part 2: The Solution

To keep the proper context, please read Part 1 for the bulk of my story before continuing with the post below.

“I Don’t Want People to Think I’m Crazy”

African American women are always trying to help others and we put ourselves last. With depression, that becomes less of a priority among African Americans because of the stigma associated with it, and the discomfort.  “We need to openly disclose the feelings and emotions involved in the process, and create and maintain an ongoing healing process to get close to optimal health,” Dr. Holden says.

Unique Factors for African Americans

“As African Americans, we don’t acknowledge our pain and we don’t speak about it,” says Williams. “Our attitude is, ‘Don’t tell your business to other people,’ because it’s a sign of weakness. From the days of slavery on, you’re taught to have the attitude that you do what you have to do, and you don’t complain.”

At one of their events, Williams says Mo’Nique talked about her depression: “She told us she thought therapy was something just for White people. She was taught to take a Tylenol and cocktail and go to sleep.”

Dr. Holden: Influence and chronic stress have a great impact on mental health. African American women are disproportionately affected by disorders and health issues. On top of that, coping and dealing with the challenges of everyday life can be overwhelming. Take for instance, lupus – stress has major impact on this disease as it does obesity, diabetes, heart disease. We’re putting our lives at risk from a physical standpoint.

When the Blues Don’t Move, Part 1: The Stigma and the Shame

Sometimes it’s an invisible pain. Sometimes Mommy hurts and you don’t even know it. This is my story of depression, looking back.

NOTE: As fate would have it, I pitched this entire story (parts 1 and 2) to several women’s publications and they  were all rejected. But because I feel this is such a strong, and sometimes still taboo subject, the message needs to get out there. Maybe it can help someone you know.

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Those tiny toes. That soft, curly hair. A newborn baby brings so much joy to a family. But when I held my baby for the first time, I was in disbelief thinking, “What do I do now?” I didn’t bond with my firstborn immediately. Was something wrong with me? Why did I feel this way? How do you deal with the scary uncertainties of becoming a first time mother?

I wasn’t a teenager when I had my daughter. But even as a married, educated 26-year-old working for a Fortune 100 company, I felt more unsure of myself than ever before. And it took years for me to grow close to my daughter and see her as more of a blessing than a burden.

Fast forward five years, and I still didn’t quite have a grasp of how to balance motherhood, working at home, and my own ambitious personal goals. I figured it was just my problem. I figured that my snappy attitude and low tolerance for my child’s misbehavior was simply a characteristic of my impatient personality. I told myself to “suck it up” and deal with it, because in life, stuff happens. I didn’t know I was depressed.

Terrie M. Williams, celebrity publicist and author of Black Pain: It Just Looks Like We’re Not Hurting, knows what I mean from her own experience with depression. “As African Americans, we don’t acknowledge our pain and we don’t speak about it,” Williams says. “Our attitude is, ‘Don’t tell your business to other people,’ because it’s a sign of weakness. From the days of slavery on, you’re taught to have the attitude that you do what you have to do, and you don’t complain.”