I was having heart palpitations.
I couldn’t sleep.
I felt like I was hungover…and I didn’t drink any more.
I had felt that way for months.
There’s a history of heart disease in my family and my father died at 50 because he didn’t take care of himself. I remember the night the paramedics came and took him because he’d had a heart attack on the floor in their bedroom.
I remembered the way I felt when I my aunt told me my father was dead. I didn’t want to rob my children of their mother…their mother needed to care for herself.
There were bills with my name on them, not enough money on two incomes, and I’m mama, dude.
Mama is GOD to black children, she can do anything, create everything from nothing…she can’t need rest, or care, or…medicine. Or doctors appointment. Indeed, physician heal thyself.
I saw my doctor in January last year. Told her about my symptoms. The sweats.
The stress. She sent me for a stress test I didn’t go to and gave me vitamins, and…gave me a prescription for Xanax.
I held the blue paper in my hand and thanked her. I stared at. It might as well have been a voided or bounced pay roll check.
I put it in my purse. Everything important went there. Every woman has a pocket in their bags of things you’re never going to do or plan to do…
Supergirl got handed Kryptonite, and was told she’d live…
To fill that, to drop that off at Walgreens, and tell my name and pick it up and be in a database for something other than an antibiotic?
That would be admitting that this adulting thing was more than I could handle and I wasn’t able to do what my mother and her mother and my mother’s mother’s mothers had done and I couldn’t seem to do..
Do it all, to the extent of self.
Spend and not enough time to replenish.
Lie and say all is perfect when everything done even look fine.
I would have to admit my Black Girl Magic was not sufficient.
*I was going to make it okay. So help me.
That script was unfilled.
I’m a mother of black children…I didn’t need Xanax. I needed a good night sleep and a bill paid. I didn’t have time for this.
I took off work for that appointment…and I was mad.
*I’m not knocking anybody who takes medicine for anxiety or depression. Medicine is a wonderful and needed thing.
I believe also that the oxygen needs to be put over your own face first.