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It all started seven years ago. I sat across from a young woman who looked nothing like me. Her hair blonde and eyes blue I sat and stared. I wondered and even gaped at how different we were.
Would she understand my family dynamic? Would she understand what we say in these 50 minutes stays in this room and not one skill is used or supported in my home life? Did she not understand I’m black and we don’t do therapy and mental health for that matter?
Why was I here? I was here under doctors’ strict orders. ”Give her these meds take her to this therapist you should see a change in her soon”, said the astute white man. I glanced over and down knowing this was not the answer.
I knew what I wanted, I knew what I needed. Someone who looked like me, someone who knows the education was beyond our weekly sessions but deeply rooted in cultural stigma. If I were to heal my family had to heal.
I find my perfect fit, black stern, and took no mess from me. She challenged my thinking combatted my trauma and guided me into a powerful place of understanding of self and those closest to me.
I was far from anger yet close to compassion and forgiveness. My self-awareness became a norm and my power. The solitude I felt when upset and the strength I had in making choices for me and only me was something I never reckoned.
Seven years later I think of this woman. A black woman who helped mold me into the emotionally intelligent individual I am today. An individual with such an understanding of pain but a greater experience of overcoming and conquering. I want to thank you for your stern words, gentle guidance, and dedication to my healing process. Thank you.
— Sane Jane
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