revisiting reflections + et al.

i have had obsessive compulsive disorder since i was 5 years old. 22 years later, it has chilled out, but still manifests itself in the occasional anxiety attacks + bouts of depression. i have been medicated since I was 9 years old. i was lucky to have had the resources + the parental support to go through cognitive behavioral therapy from 5th grade onward with the dopest womxn of color from new delhi.

since i was old enough to watch nickelodeon (lawd knows like 2...late 20th century baby) + be sucked into the capitalist cold-brewed commercials all about the latest-n-greatest diaries (remember the ones with the voice lock, or the black light?!), i always had practiced on some scale reflection + journal writing. because i went to a sf public school that promoted art + holistic growth (+ also had an sister 7 years older + would oft explore her room / try to find diaries...oops), i was a fan of writing my thoughts. 

but it wasn’t until i began to see my very first therapist (4th grade after public panic attacks during basketball summer league...embarrassing as fuck) that i really began documenting my daily thoughts, more specifically during that time, my worries. 

my oldest journal is the orange tie-dye one from old navy. my therapist told me to write down all my worries there + we would eventually categorize them, identify them, + name them. i was 8.

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14 out of the legitimately 200 worries I wrote from 2001. i laugh now, because some of these are so existentialist + some absurd, + truly making me realize: fuck, i was an awesome kid. 

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true, a deeply paranoid + anxious child. but i think i was just a sensitive child, hyperaware of the society i was apart of. i was a pure product of the early '90s - mentally sucked into the wormhole that is television + exposed to the autobahn-pace of media ads (this was then, but now...oh wee cuz). i think a lot of my obsessive compulsive disorder was propelled by the world that was happening around me + the particular traumatic triggers i experienced, coalescing with my own family's history of trauma.

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i love my 8 year old self because i distinctively mention i don't trust males. haha. kids be knowing. kids be knowing, sensing more than adults give kids credit for. youth are precocious as fuck, in their own diverse ways, + pick up on cues + nuances like it's nobody's business. to think that our current amerikkkan government continues to ridicule, undermine, + dehumanize young folks at the us-mexico border (honestly, the us was actually all just mexico...all just one land...what the fuck is a border?)...

as an early childhood teacher + person who underwent intense distress + trauma early on, yet mos def no where near the same magnitude (cc: my privilege) as the young children torn from their families + incarcerated in modern-day concentration camps, i am outraged that amerikkka is systemically scarring these young lives...confining their imaginations, torturing their sense of security, withholding them from the nourishing love that is so necessary for their health + development. how dare the colonial amerikkkan government to perpetuate the horrors of slave auction blocks, indigenous boarding camps, nazi concentration camps. 

as humans, our collective morale is being questioned. there is no neutrality here + there never was. i read the most fire meme today:

"if you support locking children in cages, because they cross an imaginary line, on a giant rock floating in infinite space, you're not a patriot, you're an asshole."