In light of Mental Health Awareness Week, I have been doing a lot of thinking and studying of how mental health is dealt with in the community of young adults, as well as ethnic minorities.

Another blog post will be needed to explain my opinions on mental health in the community that I am from, which will be both young adult and ethnic minorities, but for now here is a spoken word piece that I wrote and performed at an event that was sponsoring the charity “Mind”. Mind are a charity that focus on Mental Health and they offer advice and support to people of all ages who may be going through any mental health problems. This may be through counselling or support teams who offer health advice over the phone. Check out their website to find out more and also to donate ! : https://www.mind.org.uk/

Piece:

Dear Mum
I’m sorry
Probably woke you up from pacing around the room last night
I promised myself I would be quiet this time, but It just wasn’t right
See this time round I could hear the ticking of the clock on my wall
As if it was physically driving through the veins and streams of my head
Preventing me from being able to talk.
Sorry that I sounded like a 2-year-old child being forced to sleep alone
Without the comfort of his mother’s arms generating heat, penetrating through to his bones
See instead I stayed in a room where, you might as well call it one of the poles
Because the cold that was circulating around was to deep for my soul
See, I’m sorry
But I just don’t get you
The minute I could actually verbally articulate just what I’m going through, you just say “darling don’t worry, it will brush right over you”
The sleepless nights, the constant headaches, wondering how you even made it through another day
Yeah it will just brush right over you
See I fail to understand, that because of the melanin that’s being released through my skin
I’ve been subject to numerous repetitions of my mother’s familiar words
Continuously piercing within
“it will brush over you”
See I find it funny, quite damaging how, I’m supposed to pray and expect it to go away
Like it’s a cold or maybe a rash even
But the constant fear of a panic attack, yeah there’s nothing that could ever match
To this pain, that I’m feeling
So, Mum I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry…
Not sorry because society puts me under a bracket of people who don’t understand their health
Not sorry just because I’m apart of a certain ethnicity I’m supposed to keep my hurt to myself
I know you don’t get it, but I will overcome
So, I hope I haven’t shocked you too much, made you go wild
This is just a letter, written from your child.