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It was five weeks ago, and I was finishing my six-hour shift on Friday at Jewel-Osco. Ready to be home, I instantly headed to the green line train station to get home. When I got home, my cellphone rang. Like anyone who just got off work, I did not want to speak to anyone.
But I answered it anyway; it was my close friend of ten years. She was sharing some feelings she has been having about the way people have been treating her.
During our conversation, I related to her because we both suffer from anxiety and depression. I began giving her useful advice she has given me — we depend on each other for mental health support.
As we fell into a deeper conversation, my close friend told me she appreciated me. Being a good friend with a good listening ear — that moment changed my life.
Was she was proud of me because of my effort to get well mentally. I tend to be defensive because well-thinking people do not view me as smart or worth having around.
My friend is important to me with my history of psychiatric hospitalization three times for wanting to commit suicide. She knows I am trying hard to be better even though I fall through my emotional cracks sometimes.
In our phone conversation, I knew at that moment that she one of a few people who see my growth. As well understand what I was going through, I know everyone does not truly expect me to achieve anything or be somebody.
After my friend told me that she was proud of my changed mindset, it has made me look at myself more positively regardless of never hearing anyone say they are proud of me.
Too often, especially for a Black man with a few disabilities, approval is not typically forthcoming. At the end of our conversation, we both hung up. I actually wanted to cry because not too many women my age would bear their feelings to me.
Written by David Holmes
Edited by Cathy Milne-Ware
Featured and Top Image Courtesy of Chicken_Pollo’s Flickr Page – Creative Commons License