On Legacy
World Mental Health Day Rambles
Aside from my profession, days like today can feel arbitrary and often inundated by positive messages that resonate but don’t quite hit the spot. Every day is mental health day when my diagnosis impacts my executive functioning, impacts how people engage with me or can even lead to death. There are so many things I want to and can say about mental health in this settler colonial imperialist state, but as resistance and rage are present in Palestine and for those that support the Palestinian struggle, I think of legacy. I admittedly am a child scorned with resentment over the lack of inheritance I will have in life - both materially and emotionally. By reminding myself the power of choice and choosing my legacy, I move with an intention I wish to share with others. We can always make new and different choices.
The thing that has kept me alive is how much time I’ve spent wanting to die. I refuse to accept that this is the only way - to live in immense suffering. It is what has politicized me, the idea that death and destruction is the only way for power. I see true power in reflection, reclamation, reverence.
To share my story is often complicated by the stories of others. I want to tell you about how the woman who raised me buried her pain by sleep induced by substances. Then the guilt of sharing creeps in, would she want people to know? Is that too personal and not mine? Then I think of how that connects to one of the ways I learned to cope, to numb induced by substances. I mirrored what I witnessed. In different and similar ways. We let the same men hurt us and cried similar sentiments. We harmed ourselves because of all that we internalized. I am scarred by those beliefs.
I’ve spent my entire life telling myself stories. Stories to escape neglect, move through discomfort, and to explore joy and beauty. The beauty in making up stories is that I can rewrite them. The world has often told me stories that end with me not mattering. By size, voice or body. I have been made invisible by people who fear laying eyes on themselves. Invisibility has created the super power of observation within me. I see the ways in which others do no want to see. With that, I am intentional about legacy. Intentional about rewriting the stories written before me. I do not have to let men do as they please because they see women when they see me. I do not have to respect elders that do not respect me. I do not have to hide my expressions for those who do not confront out of care. I do not have to silence myself for those who haven’t explored the source of my volume. My legacy is one of compassion and conflict followed by resolution. My legacy is one of running to rather than running from.
In this story, we hold onto a plant that has fed our families for generations. I thank the land for its fortune and challenge the scarcity that has been passed down. I am no longer the generation to swallow things down. I let them escape through my teeth and face the consequences.
I’ve spent years watching unspoken pains turn into vices that turn into graves. It’s generational and diagnosable but none of that matters when the state is still controlled by systems meant to shatter. I am the cycle breaker. I am the stand offish relative, calloused by boundaries. I am the sensitive optimist whose anger is read as pessimism. I am the tender to my wounds, shifting from their creator. Today my legacy is mine, I am mine and I want to remind you that you are yours.
What legacy are you hoping to build and leave behind?
In Love, Solidarity and Liberation.