It's been a while since I last interacted in this space. My last post was heavy. I was burdened. I still am. Life is what you dare to make it and I'm trying every day like millions of others to make something presentable and respectable out of myself.
I received 6 PMs from concerned posters and I am grateful for your messages. Since my last thread, much has transpired : sleepless nights, a missing persons report, police, alcohol, another near suicide attempt, tears and gaining the constant worry and pity of my family and coworkers. My family is now paying for me to see one of the top black Psychiatrists in Birmingham. My first session was.. It was interesting. Time will tell if it will prove to be helpful. After the 1st session, she asked how I felt about being on antidepressants. I refused. But we'll see.
Against my own manly pride, I regretfully admit that I am not okay. I am not special or unique. There are many other black men in my same predicament; struggling to cope with being a shell of the man they once were and seeing no practical escape route. Coming to grips with such words is comparable to fighting against the tides.
My wife worries, my family worries. My coworkers whisper among each other wondering when's the next time Hathaway will snap. When's the next time Hathaway will try to fukking kill himself. Imbecilic leeches. They don't deserve me but I need money. Idc though. I'm a fighter. Always have been. My wife and my kids need me.
Its just crazy how meaningless life really is.
