Endure, they say - by Ameerah Abdulsalam

Is sharing your mental health story online an act of courage that breaks stigma, or does the internet turn our pain into content? It is both. And I have lived both. Hi, my name is..... I'd rather not say ...You may know me on two cents as the funny one, The charming one hehe , the life of the <a class="tc-blue external-link external-link" href="https://party.But" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">party.</a><a class="tc-blue external-link external-link" href="https://party.But" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">But </a> I have been battling depression since I was 18, and it didn't start with a boy.... nope, It started with life. It started with being forced to grow up too early. I am the first daughter. For 22 years, that title has not been a crown, it has been a weight. "you are the senior, you have to understand." "endure." "you should know better." When did I get to be a child? When did I get to be confused, to be lost, to not know what to do? School was drowning me. Life was drowning me. I was trying to pass, to make my parents proud, to be a good example for my siblings. to hold the family together with a smile. But inside, I was failing. Everywhere. I had no one to talk to. Not even my sister, though we shared the same roof. She was there, but not in the way I needed. She didn't understand this heavy feeling of carrying a house on your head when your own head is aching. What I needed was my mother. Not correction. Not another lesson on how to be strong. Just softness. Just a moment where I could be the baby, not the senior daughter. A hug that says, "Drop it all, my daughter, calm down, I got you, I'm here for you But every time I tried, she became judgmental. Every time I opened my heart, she turned it into a lecture. In March 2022, I was at my lowest. School was messing me up, I was tired of pretending. I needed my mom to say "it's okay." Instead she looked at me and called me a failure. Three times. Three times from the mouth that was supposed to speak life into me. That night, something broke in me. I stopped trying to explain myself. Till today, I would rather swallow my tears and stay quiet than express how I feel, because what if they call me a failure again? So I became happy online. Because online, nobody asks you to be the strong first daughter. Online, you can be funny and people will love you for it. It was easier to make you laugh than to explain that I am tired. Tired of growing up before I even learned how to live. For a long time I thought sharing this would just be content. That the internet would take my pain, watch it like a sad movie, comment "sorry" and scroll. That my loneliness would become another trending sound. And sometimes it is like that. But sharing is also courage. The first time I typed "I am tired of being strong" publicly, my hands were shaking. I thought people would say I am doing too much. Or use it for memes ...lol typical Nigerians ....That other people have it worse, i should be grateful for the little pain I'm going through But someone replied, "Me too, Me too." Just that. And for the first time in years, I didn't feel alone in my childhood house that never let me be a child. That's how stigma breaks. Not with big campaigns. But with one first daughter saying "I am exhausted from being strong," and another one whispering back, "I thought it was only me." I don't want my pain to be content. I want it to be a conversation. To every first born reading this at 2am, who feels alone even when the house is full, who has an imaginary friend in her head because that is the only place she is allowed to be soft , the only place she tries to console herself.............. I see you. You were forced to a mother before you became a woman.You were forced to be strong before you learned how to cry.You were forced to endure before you learned how to live.And you are still here. Funny, charming, sad, and still here. You are not a failure because they called you one.You are not alone because you feel alone.You are not too much. You have just been carrying too much, for too long.Your voice is not content. Your voice is courage! Real to heal....".For the girl who had to grow before she bloomed""who learned to mother in a crowded room""who was called strong when she wanted to be held""who smiled outside while her heart swelled."<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG_5265.jpeg"/> "You are not a failure....of course, you fear..""I know the words still ring in your ear.""You are not too much, you carried too much""you needed warmth, a softer touch.""It is okay to be tired of being strong,""it is okay to not know where you belong,""it is okay to cry and not have a reason,""you are human, yes! you should have your season<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG_5266.jpeg"/> "So breathe, first daughter,""breathe tonight""you don't have to fix every fight,""you don't have to hold the sky,""you are allowed to ask why.""You are still here, and that is brave,""the laugh, the ache, the love you gave,""your voice is not content, my love, it's courage,""and tomorrow, you will find your own dosage of solace."<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG_5267.jpeg"/> "You will live, not just endure,""you will be soft, you will be pure,""not because they finally saw your pain,""but because you chose to bloom again.""Your voice is not content.""Your voice is courage.""And real voices like ours ,""will bring real change.""So heal .....""For what you feel is real ""And what is real will heal❤️‍🩹"<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG_5269.jpeg"/> <a class="tc-blue external-link external-link" href="https://twocents.space/insights/tag/soft" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#soft</a> healing

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