My childhood was carefree like most. Depression and anxiety was yet unknown to my young soul. It would start to creep in when I lost my mother. No longer being able to talk to her made me feel as though there was this crippling weight on my chest. My father followed shortly after, and that weight grew heavier. I could not understand how the world could keep turning without them, but I tried my best to figure it out on my own.
In my community, talking about your feelings is not allowed. Young African-American boys are considered weak if they share these types of problems or seek help. There is no discussion, no allowance for tears or visible distress. This made me feel more alone and even more scared.
I would spend days curled up on the couch or in disheveled bed sheets crying, feeling numb in my darkness. I cried for my losses, but I also cried because I didn't know how to deal with the sadness and heartbreak. The shadows of doubt and fear took over me, and I realized that I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I isolated myself from my friends, feeling too ashamed to tell them I was suffering.
On a dark day, while contemplating suicide, coldness came over me and I couldn't feel the left side of my body. Tingles spread throughout my side, so I rushed myself to the hospital. It was assumed I was having a stroke, but the doctor eventually discovered that it was extreme anxiety and depression that was manifesting itself physically in my deprived body.
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I rejected the medication offered, turning instead to sweets, only to crash hours later and lose the high I craved. The candy-high system eventually broke down and I began to take the medication prescribed. I continued to hide my secret from those around me; I couldn't show them just how bad I was suffering.
The day I lost my close friend, actor, Lee Thompson Young to suicide, something inside of me started to flare up. I was shocked and devastated by this loss, and I found myself wondering...if I had told him about my depression and suicidal thoughts, could I have saved him? From that thought process, and in his memory, I started to fight back. I created, co-produced and co-directed a documentary titled, “Face of Darkness- Journey to Healing,” to document the experiences of depression in the minority male community.
Now I am a thriving 30-year-old because I welcomed help and created a support system and tools to keep me and others positive. I am no longer ashamed and I refuse to let anyone else suffer in silence. Minority men are overlooked and being told to “man up” when in reality, they are suffering and need help just like anyone else.
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No one should be made to suffer alone and changing that stigma starts with the children: tell your boys, it's okay to cry and ask for help. This is my mission.
Kenneth Todd (KT) Nelson, a new millennium social activist and actor, is a native of Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Nelson merged his experiences as a community activist and actor to create a telling documentary called “Faces of Darkness”. In this cinematic project, KT serves as the co-creator, executive producer, and director of a compelling film which shines a spotlight on the crippling effects of depression and anxiety amongst African American men. Follow him on Twitter @actornyc.
