Let me make you uncomfortable.

When I decided to finally start a blog, I struggled with finding what to write about. Being a generally passionate person, I care about a lot of things that are all incredibly important to me and deserve the honour of  beginning my blogging journey. So you can imagine my dilemma as I sit here in my room on a Friday night drinking my third bottle of citron, and the only thing that comes to mind is the sadness. I know, it’s an incredibly dark note to start my blogging journey on, but it’s genuine. I navigate through life as a Rwandan woman; in fact it’s a fundamental part of my identity, so as a Rwandan woman I am taking up your time today to tell you about my mental health.

 Calling my mental health a mess would be the understatement of the century. I go up and down way too much, I use humour as a coping mechanism (as you will learn from my blogs), I self medicate with things I have no business self-medicating with, I get defensive, I’m not a good friend at times, and sometimes I am perfectly fine being in denial of the looming weight of the sadness. I hit a low point in 2016 when I first realised that my mental health had maybe gone a bit too far. I truly didn’t want to be here anymore, I hated the person I saw in the mirror, it was getting harder to breathe, my grades didn’t matter, my friendships were falling apart, I hadn’t spoken to my family in almost a month, and I started self harming. Of course the self-harming then led to guilt and shame, which didn’t help much if you can imagine. I barely passed that year and as icing on the cake I developed a generous serving of anxiety. I can’t say that I’m better, but I can say that I survived and that I’m still here fighting to this day. Thankfully I had some resilient friends and family who pulled me up without even realising it. However, I still have a long way to go before I can talk about the sadness in the past tense.

I am nowhere near that actually, if we’re being honest with ourselves, but I am trying and I’ve decided to drag all of you with me so buckle up. I realise that sharing this might be too much or even bring some bad publicity, but it’s my truth and I am determined to live it. I truly think that it’s important for me to share this journey because I want you guys to know that depression and Rwanda can coexist inside one person. It isn’t a foreign illness, it’s real and this Rwandan woman has been playing a comical game of cat and mouse with it for what feels like an eternity. I know that usually you hear stories about mental health from people who are already on the upside or on their way there, because frankly nobody wants to hear about the dark stuff, and I don’t care. I am writing this for the Rwandan or anyone else who is still in that dark place and is afraid to speak up. You are not alone and every single thing that you are feeling is valid. I encourage you to reach out to friends and family and if that is not safe then I have attached some great resources that will help, but you have to want it.