Navigating Healthy Romantic Relationships

not only was I afraid of being stigmatized as a Black woman with a chemical imbalance that can negatively affect her day-to-day life, but I was also afraid that being honest would scare people off.

image @wordsbyezekiel.

by D’Shonda Brown.

Let’s take a step back to Summer 2016 - there I was, new to adulthood with a degree from Spelman College and a dream job in New York City. Sounds ideal, right? It wasn’t. My mind spewed thoughts of despair, agony, and fear and I wasn’t happy with anything at all. The day I attempted suicide was one of the bleakest, most oddly satisfying and horrific moments of my life all wrapped into one. For a long time, I had lived a life feeling completely numb. Where I should have experienced happiness, excitement or even fear, I instead felt nothing. It was a confusing time because while I wanted this to end, I didn’t want to stop living. After crying a river of tears to my friends and family, I decided to talk to my partner at the time about how I was feeling.

“You’re not depressed.”

“Life is not that bad.”

“Suicidal thoughts aren’t real.”

Those were some of his responses. He seemed more angry and confused than concerned. I remember sitting on the kitchen floor of my friend’s house, trying to formulate a smart retort, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just said, “Okay” and knew that I could never tell a partner about my depression ever again. Not only was I afraid of being stigmatized as a Black woman with a chemical imbalance that can negatively affect her day-to-day life, but I was also afraid that being honest would scare people off. I thought that anyone outside of my parents or therapist would see me as a liability rather than an asset in their lives. 

After years of regularly seeing a therapist and having more good days than bad, I went on a date with a man who seemed perfect for me in every way. While on our date, he told me he had a condition that he wasn’t ready to disclose so soon. I, knowing exactly how that feels, assured him that I had no room to judge and that our table was a safe space. He shared that he had epilepsy and how it makes him hesitant when it comes to romantic relationships; he didn't want his condition to be a turn-off. His vulnerability made me feel seen. It seemed he understood how it felt to be thought of as “other” in a society that puts perfect health on a pedestal. I felt safe enough to tell him about my depression and what I had been through. For the first time in a long time, I truly felt safe.

Two years later, Gary and I are not just in a relationship but we are in a thriving partnership. 

During our time together we’ve become fully invested in each other’s well-being, becoming each other’s champions in all things. He supports and encourages my writing as a means of self-care and I help him keep track of his medications and encourage him to rest as much as possible to keep his body healthy and functioning. Above all, we know the best way for our relationship to work is by making self-care and self-love a priority. We can’t support each other if we don’t put our own health first. I’m grateful that I took the time to learn to love myself. And I’m grateful for the man who doesn’t love me in spite of my mental illness, he loves me through it.

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D’Shonda Brown is a full-time freelancing publicist, writer and public speaker located in New York City. She has served as a public relations freelancer and social strategy consultant for Silence The Shame, 360 Gateway Brands, Access NKC, Playbook Media Group and Whose Your Landlord to name a few. In 2019, D’Shonda became Mental Health First Aid Certified for adults and children and graduated from the Advocacy Ambassador Program by National Alliance on Mental Illness. She feeds her passion as a writer and journalist by serving as the podcast host for Gyrl Wonder Podcast, lead writer for America Hates Us, #SHOPBLACK columnist for The Rap Fest and the newest contributing writer to join the team at Sad Girls Club.