AY'LANI AMOURA WRIGHT Wednesday 2nd March 2022- 2/3/22
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it is wednesday. i feel anxious. i walk to the centre and register myself, then i am told to wait in the waiting room. after 13 minutes of waiting, i hear someone call out my name. "AY'LANI WRIGHT?" a woman calls out i stand up and make my way to the woman. "hello ms wright, i will lead you to your therapist but you requested for the session to not be face to face so i will lead you to one of our enclosed rooms" she explained.
i get taken to a room, the room is dark and there are candles lit up everywhere, in the middle of the room is a barricade that separates the room in two. there is a sofa which is filled with pillows. "this is your therapy room, your therapist is on the other side of the room" she says i nod. i decide to sit on the sofa and i fiddle with my fingers until i hear someone else call my name. but it is a man, the voice is deep & it doesn't sound central london like all these other people but more south london. it reminds me of home and makes me become a little more comfortable. "ay'lani wright?" "yeah thats me" i say timidly. "cool, here are your test results" he says slipping the paper under the barricade.
the test results are shocking. it says i have /had previously clinical depression, social anxiety disorder, ptsd from previous events. like any normal person, i have had some pretty traumatic events in my past but i have never been officially diagnosed with any disorders or anything like that.
"so ms wright , how do these results make you feel?" the man asks. "i dont know how i feel to be honest, i just feel like okay it is what it is" i say "mhm okay, so how so you think these diagnoses came about?" he asks "uhm, i think for depression it came about when i was like 12
DEPRESSION
a lot of bad things have happened to me but i wouldn't say i was depressed at all. when i was 12, around the time i was in secondary school, there was a house fire. my mum, my two sisters and my brother died in that house fire.
for 2 months i could still hear their screams. this led me to not eating for days on end, not leaving my room for days on end, crying for days on end. my heart hurt for days on end. i thought abt killing myself to ease my pain but i was just too scared to do it, too pussy.
after my mum and siblings died, i had to choose whether i wanted to live with my dad or in a foster care home. for the first lets say three weeks and a bit, my dad was so nice and made me feel abit better. but after those three weeks and i still was eating little to nothing , staying in my room all day, doing nothing productive but being on my phone. he had enough. he started to beat me like punch me, force me to eat when all i did was throw it up afterwards and not only physically abuse me he would also verbally abuse me which caused me to mentally abuse myself and wish i were the one who was dead.
my dad would shout and beat on me for hours, and i felt as if i deserved it and it was my punishment for being alive. all those repressed emotions i would take out on myself in the form of self harm. it hurt but it hurt so good and i deserved the pain.
