Something Borrowed, Something Taboo

And no, I’m not talking about reading fanfiction on Wattpad all hours of the night. Therapy. Mental health. We talk about these things in terms of what tribal health has to offer, seeing billboards with Natives advertising 988, how intergenerational trauma works, social media posts encouraging the youth to seek help. Still, I feel like talking about mental health on a personal level remains relatively taboo.

There are endless discussions online, in class, and throughout Native spaces about the trauma we’ve borrowed from our ancestors—from grandparents generations ago in boarding schools, from parents that divorced when a father’s alcoholism became too much. This pain we inherit, inherent because of our collective history. We’re open about it in this way.

I’ve no denial that these things are important. No denial of the pain that bleeds into our present day. There’s a lot of hurt here in our communities both tied to the past and existing in the present. But for many, there seems to be a disconnect. Because we talk about this hurt and the resources, and the rest is between a patient and their medical team.

And that’s perfectly okay. Not everyone wants to talk about the hurt they face.

Not everyone feels like they can, either.

I’ve seen this in action: someone opening up publicly about their struggles and the immeasurable pain on their shoulders only to be made fun of. “Cry more.” “It’s social media not your diary.” “Wah wah wah.” This is the least of it.

How can we, not even as Natives, but as people, say that those hurting should reach out but then demean someone crying for help? A reaction that teaches, silently, that opening up isn’t okay. Now the person on the brink thinks, “Why’d I even say anything?” and any onlookers hoping for a ray of positivity see that they, too, should stay silent.

These things are complex. They’re also why I choose to share what I do. For years now, I’ve been in therapy. Gone through hours and hours of testing related to mental health and various conditions. I have ADHD. Most people don’t see that as a mental health disorder but it gets in the way of things for me. I’m hyperactive impulsive; I forget things easily, especially if they’re not in front of me. But I also struggle to find motivation for things and sometimes a reminder becomes a spotlight that further demotivates.

It’s more than ADHD and all the ways being unmedicated interrupts my life, though.

I go to therapy to figure out how to balance life with the pain of years and years of loss—because it was my grandma I lived with when I was 12, my dad after an argument when I was 14, my best friend’s grandma I spent weekends caring for when I was 15, a friend to suicide when I was 16, my uncle who I found when I was 19, and so on and on and on. This blog has been home to a lot of loss because I know I’m not alone and want you to know that you’re not alone either.

It’s more than the loss, though.

It’s to learn how to manage cutting off family that has harmed me deeply, emotionally. I go to therapy because I’ve spent a decade carrying the trauma of losing my pokni and all the things that came after. All the things that are happening now, today. To talk about losing a parent and all the ways it’s changed me; about how the parent I lost already wasn’t as present as I needed as a child of divorce. To have somewhere to go when I’m overwhelmed with what others need from me while I feel like I’ve never had a moment to contend with any of the hurt before another tragedy.

I have a lot going on. Many of us do. There should be no shame in being open about our struggles; no shame in reaching out for help. I might not know how to deal with all of these things perfectly, or even at all yet. But going to therapy reminds me that I’m not alone, and gives me confidence that I’ll learn to contend with all of the things I carry.

If you or someone you know is/might be struggling with mental health, substance use, or disordered eating, know that help is available. The Crisis Text Line has amazing information and you can also text NATIVE to 741741 to get help, or call/text the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988 in the U.S. and Canada.

Pisa chi aiukli.

Bridgette Hoshont’omba is a student at Nebraska Indian Community College.