Danielle’s Journal: Life, Love Gone Wrong and Bipolar Disorder

It’s time for some straight talk from Danielle, not The Snob, about my 10-day hiatus and what it has to do with all of us in a world where we suffer in silence.

My name is Danielle Belton and I am a woman.

I possess no super human strength. I cannot go it alone. I cannot carry the unnamed pains of the past alone. I can not blindly defend my abusers no more than I can take their abuse. I get mad. I cry. I am confused. I want to be loved. I want to be understood. I don’t want judgement or condemnation, persecution or accusations. I don’t want to be accused of calling the world to fall from grace as if I were dining on that fruit alone.

God named me “Imperfect” and I can’t dance for anyone anymore. I can’t pretend because it doesn’t help you and it doesn’t help me, it just perpetuates the same cycle of “The Strong Black Woman,” the “Strong Black Man” and the place where we part to go our own ways in life, bitter and broken.

In 2001, my “strong black woman” fallacies officially broke into pieces as I contemplated a “him or me” situation with a man I’d been with for three years. After all his time taking my once high self-esteem and wearing it down to a nub, the last bit of fighter in me wanted to take myself out, but I wasn’t going alone.

Click to here for Danielle’s Journal to read more …

5 thoughts on “Danielle’s Journal: Life, Love Gone Wrong and Bipolar Disorder

  1. Dear Danielle, I’m here to listen … but the link is broken to part two of your journal entry. Please fix it and I will be back.Meanwhile, I’m sending you a big, warm, mama-hug.Regina

  2. y’all: you can get to "Danielle’s Journal" from the black bar at the top of the page.

  3. Your burden is our gift. And like each burden that one must carry as one’s own cross to bear, we can be our better selves to know we all have struggles. Thank you for reminding all of us how close we are to human perfection in being all very imperfect. If only more were as strong as you to learn to forgive themselves the way you are forgiving yourself for accepting that divine grace is in you for being real. I rarely apologize for "being me". And I want you to know that you don’t ever have to question about your worth of acceptance. You are divine. You were designed this way and with all that is superficially flawed, your core and spirit is chiseled perfection. Your intent is honorable. I see the wealth in valuation of what is remarkable that is priceless. You don’t lie. You will never lie to us. You will never lie to yourself. You know your limits. You allow yourself to get frustrated and then pick yourself and try again. You allow others to help you and to love you. You have grown. That is perfection that far supercedes what tries to distract you that you can’t sometimes control or conquer immediately. You are one of the few people who understand me when I am enraged. You never shamed me of my complications or my passion that is wild and unconventional. So it is not too much for me to help you situate that heavy burden you carry on back…your cross to bear. And at times I will lift it and hold up for you so you can scream or just feel like resting. I will not drop your cross. I understand this is your cross to bear just as I have my own very heavy, uncomfortable, unpopular cross to bear. And it gets lonely down that road. But you are not alone. There are so many with you…just timid. But I appreciate you writing this testimony because I feel so alone not being bi-polar but being complicated as you. When I watched Sarah Connor get beated with the billy-clubs Friday night, I felt like someone knew the burden of some of us complicated creatures…the women…the misunderstood women…that are sometimes fighting quiet battles and some out loud screaming. Thank you for carrying your cross…your burden…and willfully committing to advocate for all us when you advocate for yourself. I honor your proxy and I will lift your cross and hold it whenever you need relief or assistance. Thanks for not hiding or denying. Thank you for not lying.You are brave.

  4. Hey Danielle,Rarely do we catch honest glimpses into the lives of others. Thank you.Now, if you permit me, I would like to share my experience with anxiety and depression.I realize now that I probably had dysthymia (chronic low grade depression) for most of my life. I’m sure it runs in my family on both sides. I was able to escape my family’s pathology by going to college and I did great my first three years. I had good friends. I had good grades. I participated in all types of activities. I pledged. I had a boyfriend. He wasn’t a very good boyfriend it turns out but it was the first time anyone (whom I was also interested in) had sent me flowers, taken me to meet his mother, and was (or seemed to be) just into me.The senior year arrived and I went into free fall. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I neglected my responsibilities. My grades sunk. I was promiscuous. I barely met the requirements for graduation. Thankfully, I had made a decent score on the GRE. That number and previous internships got me into graduate school. I have to add that I really wasn’t interested in the subject matter but my graduate advisor insisted that this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Long story short, I hated every moment of the graduate experience. That was a long six years. I didn’t like the students. I didn’t like most of the professors. I had only 2 friends. I wasn’t interested in participating in anything. I should have left but I didn’t know what else to do, so I stayed and alienated everyone I encountered with my negativity. It wasn’t until the department cut the financial strings and I had maxed out my own student loans that I buckled down and did just enough to graduate. It was in the course of that final year, I began taking Zoloft. It was the only way I could function.I was able to graduate (in a field I could take or leave) and I took a job in industry as I didn’t want to teach or enter a government bureaucracy. This was a tremendous mistake. I was mistaken in the belief that good paycheck would make me better equipped to deal with the people I didn’t care for in graduate school. I was mistaken. I had to continue with my medication and visiting a psychiatrist. I lost my job in less than a year after starting. I wasn’t upset. I did miss the paycheck. I also missed my psychiatrist. He pointed out to me that I had to get the heart of the matter. The meds were just to get me over the hump. I had to figure why I was miserable because if something else hits me I would sink again. I would continue to make the same mistakes and fall into the same traps.He was right. I did. I took the wrong job and stayed until it was unbearable. Interestingly, I worked in pharma, and after seeing the research and marketing of depression and anxiety drugs, I decided to not touch them again. Instead of using street drugs, sex, booze, money or food, like so many relatives, I was still using a crutch to deal with every day. Mine was just legal.I quit my job and took sometime off and I’m currently pursuing another career. I realize now why things just didn’t feel right in the other companies. First, if you value creativity, the last place you want to be is surrounded by a group of people who have never had an original thought in their lives. It’s like they are afraid of them. If you are truly value egalitarianism, a strict hierarchical corporate structure isn’t for you. If you crave autonomy, flexibility and variety, you can’t work for someone would be happy doing the same thing for the rest of their lives. My present situation offers most of the things I need in addition to a paycheck.I also found just taking care of myself: eating right, exercising, and getting enough sleep also affects how I deal with things day to day. I have good days and not so good days. I deal with it as it comes.I’m blessed to be alive and well.

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