Blog Post

What a Strong Girl Wants Her Friends to Know

Denise M Williams • Dec 22, 2018

The strong friend, who suffers from depression and spent some time staring down the barrel of a gun


  • Deep down I want to pick up the phone and tell you that I’m struggling, but I fear I will fall apart and I don’t have time to stop for a breakdown; I’m on the way into the ______ (office, community service project, million-dollar business meeting, meeting to take care of my aging parent(s); or, I’m trying to help you through your crisis).
  • I want to tell you that I don’t have the answers to what’s wrong; I just feel low and you asking me the same questions, in different ways, won’t yield a different answer.
  • I can’t tell you why the woman that you see as strong feels so low… like I want to stop my life prematurely all while running a multi-billion dollar business, presiding over my organization, serving on the board of some amazing foundation, or taking care of my aging parent and/or a few family members who seem unable to pull it together.
  • I want to tell you that I need you to create a safe space for me to land; so that I can let go, if only for a Saturday and/or Sunday.
  • I want to tell you as much as I fear being hugged, I really want to cuddle, if only for a little while.
  • I want to tell you that I don’t want to talk, but I appreciate your presence.
  • I want you to know that a text, a phone call, a random thinking of you card or even flowers may be the reason I can get up one more day. At the very least, it helps me remember that I am loved and maybe, just maybe, it’s going to be okay.
  • I want you to know that I would be grateful if you just held the phone and let me cry.
  • I want to tell you that sometimes I am so overwhelmed that I appreciate you taking the lead, even leading me to a soft place to land.
  • I want to tell you that I fear you see me as broken and needing to be fixed, but I’m not and I don’t.
  • I want you to be aware that your own fear of vulnerability, does not allow for me to be vulnerable.
  • I want you to know that when you fear my silence, I feel obligated to continue a dialog or justify myself.
  • I fear that you can’t contain my hurt and pain, so I try and mask it.
  • I want you to understand your own beliefs and behaviors around the strong black woman, because you may be unconsciously causing me more pain; your underlying beliefs may tell me I am not acceptable if I appear weak.
  • I want you to know when you tell me to just pray, that it’s not helpful; however, your prayers are.
  • If you recognize that my mental health may be in crisis, gently try and educate me; otherwise, take me to get help even if I am kicking and screaming all the way. It just might save my life, even though I may not be able to recognize it in that moment.
  • Above all, I want you to know, I didn’t ask for this. This shit ain’t easy. It’s not for punks; but, I am trying my best despite what it may look like to you.

Sincerely,

The strong friend, who suffers from depression and spent some time staring down the barrel of a gun





By Denise M. Williams, licensed psychotherapist 09 Oct, 2019
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By Denise M. Williams 23 May, 2019
I'm sure it was well after midnight, but my therapist, who had told me many times to call her when I needed to, answered my late-night call as if she was expecting me. With my words stuck in my throat, she called my name and told me it was okay. She told me to breathe. I felt like I was going to choke, but with all my might, I pulled in all the air I could and pushed it out, over and over, until I could speak. I don’t remember the conversation, but I know it was the last time I had a major depressive episode. You know, the kind that doesn’t let you get out of bed, wash your behind, or go to work? When the sun rose that morning, so did the idea of Me First Self-Care. First and foremost, I wanted to make sure I would never again find myself at rock bottom, but I wasn’t sure how to do it by myself. I knew I needed someone to listen to me and help me create a plan that would transform my life as a single, adoptive mom with an amazing-yet-killing-me-softly entertainment industry career. As much as I tried, though, I couldn’t find that person. Borrowing from Gandhi, I decided to “be the change you want to see in the world”, and created the resource I needed to heal myself, and women like me. I created the Me First Self-Care program to: 1. Help women asses their needs 2. Determine the best course of action based on that assessment 3. Create a realistic plan that fits each person’s life 4. Serve as a coach and accountability partner Through my own personal experiences and training as a licensed psychotherapist (part of my radical self-care plan was giving up the stressful career I loved and pursuing my passion for helping women), I’ve learned that self-care is not the cure for depression, but one of many tools. It’s not about doing your hair and nails and going to the spa. Radical self-care is about doing the hard work that brings you back from the brink of mental, physical or spiritual collapse, and transforming your life. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing the bad, the ugly, and not-so-awesome about the journey towards radical self-care, along with tools to help you along your path. Let’s get into this together.
By Denise M. Williams 15 Apr, 2019
By Denise M. Williams 04 Apr, 2019
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By DMW 08 Feb, 2019
It’s February, the month of *love* , and it just so happens that my custom self-care goals are to reconnect with myself mind body and soul, deepen my connection to self and loving myself deeper, genuinely and authentically. To do that, one of my self-care practices is very mindful self-pleasure, complete with the big O. (Yep, I just wrote that!) Here’s why: as I contemplated my self-care plan earlier this year, one thing that kept coming to me was how, as a single woman – this also can be the case if you’re partnered – I’ve lost touch with my sensual self. Two major factors play a role in this loss for me. The first was being victimized, both as a child and then again as a teenager, and the second was forcing myself to turn on masculine energy and become a dominant woman to be heard and taken seriously in the male-dominated world I worked in. I learned early on that my black female body was not safe in this society – by the age of 18, I had already lived through sexual brutalization twice, and even now, I continue to see the degradation of black female bodies every day. I’ve felt as if there is no space for my sensuality, without others deciding for me I am a whore, hoe, Jezebel, tramp, black bitch, or worse. Well, enough! This year it’s time for me tune out those messages and tap into and own the parts of my mind, body and spirit that were taken from me by manipulation, sexism, body shaming and power plays. So, this #SelfCareSunday, I’m planning an intimate date with the person I’m falling deeper in love with: Me (complete with fancy smell-goods)! And in case you’re wondering, and/or are looking for a “why” to try out self-pleasure for: masturbation also helps relieve stress, cramps, pain, promotes body positivity, personal power, and more. Give it a try, and hit me back with a thumbs up or a “hell yeah” to let us know you’ve taken care of yourself. 😉 For those looking for info on positive and affirming sexual health, please hit up Dr. Jeshana Johnson with The Intimacy Seminars: https://theintimacyseminars.com or Jamila Dawson, licensed marriage and family therapist at: www.Jamiladawson.com *Cue India.Arie*…
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As I sat and watched Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testify at a Senate confirmation hearing for Brett Kavanaugh’s ascendance to the Supreme Court, read news articles and watched my Facebook feed, I found myself growing angry, then sad, then tearful, trying to keep from unleashing the trauma of my past. It was all too much – watching Dr. Ford recount the things that are forever locked into her hippocampus; seeing women and men imply, or outright declare, that girls and women bear some responsibility for putting themselves in vulnerable situations; and reading article after article about men escaping legal and social responsibility for assault, harassment, or rape. All of this reminded me of the guilt and shame that I carried for years, believing that it was my fault, that I knew what I was doing, and that I brought it on myself. It made me remember that the man who molested me – excuse me, it wasn’t molestation, it was “only” statutory rape according to the law, since I was one week too old for molestation at the time of the attack – never had to face any repercussions for his actions. It made me remember my mother asking me why I went to the house when she told me not to. (I know now that my mother had him figured out and that she was trying to keep me safe). It reminded me of the experience of one of my clients, who met with a man who said he would help her complete her applications for a graduate school; instead, he raped her. When she went home and told her parents, she was admonished with “I told you not to go over there.” It also reminded me of a friend whose career has been stalled after reporting her assault at the hands of a work colleague. Rather than being supported by her company, she was the one disciplined and made to sign a confidentiality agreement. She often encounters the colleagues who punished her at industry events, all while watching their careers flourish. And as I sat there, I processed my emotions, scanning my body to become aware of the sensations that I was experiencing. I realized that I was anxious, triggered by these public displays of so much private pain.
By Denise M. Williams 09 Nov, 2018
A few years ago, a sister-friend was visiting me when, with great anxiety, she pulled off her hat, showing me how her hair had fallen out of the top of her head. I looked and asked, “What?”, to which she replied, “My hair is falling out!” I replied, “Okay, it’s just hair.” She smiled and was seemingly relieved at the fact that it was no big deal. Later, she again shared that she was losing more of her hair, and how concerned she was at the prospect of having to wear a wig, weave, or hair extensions because she doesn’t feel comfortable in them, and with her fixed income, was concerned about spending too much money to try. Even though she didn’t want to wear those hair products, she feared what people would say and how they would react if she had no hair.
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