Mental Health Awareness

Yolonda was a year and half older than me and she was my biggest fan during her entire life. She was my protector and my voice. By the time I was in first grade, we had experienced more pain and confusion than I would wish on anyone. We moved in with our grandmother during that time, hoping to start a new life. In this new and unfamiliar environment, I was painfully shy and shuddered at the thought of speaking with anyone. Yolonda recognized this about me and would engage me in conversation to help break me out of my shell. She constantly advocated for me to others and stuck up for me, so that no one would bully me for being different. We were just two kids trying to navigate through life. We had the same mother, but different fathers. Neither one of us knew our father, so we would have many conversations imagining what our fathers were like and if they even knew about us. We were trying to learn who we were and find acceptance in the world. As you can imagine, we were growing up in survival mode, lacking the stability and positive reinforcement that a functional household would provide.

As we got older, we gradually grew apart and focused on different priorities in life even though we still loved each other very much. Yoyo sought to numb her pain and find a sense of belonging in the wrong circles, so she developed a drug addiction just trying to find an escape. The choices my sister made were the norm for someone growing up in difficult circumstances. If I ever wanted to rise above my challenging circumstances, I would have to be the difference maker. I decided my escape would be the opposite of what I had seen, so I worked hard to try to be the father figure we craved. By the time I was in fourth grade and she was in sixth grade, I essentially took on the role of her big brother, trying to guide her to make better decisions.

As I got older and committed the time and effort to developing my talents, I was given the opportunity to play football and became the first person in our family to attend college. My sister came to view me as a father instead of her younger brother. It was also during this time that she began displaying more symptoms that were abnormal and was eventually diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. She would end up spending the rest of her life in and out of treatment centers, rehab, and prison, but we continued to be there for each other even during these difficult times. 

Shortly after I graduated from college, she already had two boys, but was not able to fully care for them. I took her in to live with me and continued to play the role of dad to her, helping her find rehab centers and job opportunities. I wanted to give her a sense of structure, so I also gave her chores, rules, and expectations. Even though our choices and outcomes in life were so different, we still had similar desires for our future. At the end of the day, we all long for purpose, fulfillment and security. I could not fault her for the choices she made or the difficulties she encountered in life. We were both in survival mode and doing whatever we could to make it through. 

My sister wanted a normal life where she could take care of her boys and dreamed about being married someday. She even wanted me to walk her down the aisle and give her away if that ever happened. She often referred to me as “the dad she never had”. Unfortunately, the normal life never did happen, because she could not fully take care of herself. Through it all, I wanted to be there for her. She was my biggest fan and repeatedly told me that she believed I could do anything.

I was there with her during the struggles. I was there during her coma. I was there to pick her up when she got out of prison. I was the last person to speak with her before she took her life at the age of forty. I planned her funeral and stood alone for her receiving line. Anyone who has ever done this for a sibling or loved one knows how difficult this is, but I was not alone in being impacted by her death—her teenage boys were also there

However, the story does not end here. Now I have a family of my own, but we felt compelled to also be there for our nephews—the boys that my sister’s untimely death left without a mother. We will bring them in and guide, love, and protect them. They will have a future and a hope. Tyson and Kaysar, I love you and will be what Yoyo and Ceddy needed when they were younger. Get ready for something different. The best is yet to come!

If you suffer from mental illness, please know you are not alone. If you have a loved one with a mental illness, I encourage you to be there for them and help them find resources and support. Remember to BE KIND to one another—you never know what someone else is going through.

*If you are suicidal, depressed, or struggling please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255. We can all help prevent suicide. The Lifeline provides 24/7 access to free and confidential support for people in distress. They are trained on prevention and can offer crisis resources for you or your loved ones.

PS: Don’t call me Ceddy—that’s a name only reserved for Yoyo.