Our Bodies. Not Our Choice. For Now…

By Dr. Akilah Cadet

I write this in a pitch-black room. My bedroom to be exact. We’ve known about a possible “decision” for a while. Leaked reports of the Supreme Court draft decision revealed our worst fears; Roe v. Wade overturned. Today it happened. I thought of drafting a piece last night, but I knew it would be my last night of peace. Perhaps I didn’t want to will it into existence. Yet here we are. Roe. v. Wade was overturned today. The opinion also outlines plans to go after other rulings that granted civil rights such as same-sex marriage. It will disproportionately impact historically excluded communities like Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC); LGBTQ+; and people with disabilities. I can’t help but think of my own intersectionality as a Black disabled woman. 

Ending 50 years of the landmark 1973 decision abortion is now a state issue. According to the Center for Reproductive Rights, this could result in 23 states banning abortion overall. As of today, abortion is illegal in 5 states, illegal/soon to be illegal in 11 state, and legal, for now, in 35 states. We officially have a country that is forcing unwanted pregnancies (including in cases of rape and incest) when we still do not have free or low-cost childcare, paid parental leave, mental health support, whilebiased stereotypes of women with children in the workplace persist. 

This ruling will, of course, disproportionately affect BIPOC. Privileged white women will always have access to safe abortion as that is a benefit of white supremacy.  But keep in mind this privilege can disappear in seconds with an ectopic pregnancy, emergency D+C, or other pregnancy related trauma where life saving care is denied due to state law. White supremacy is harmful to everyone.

As I think about becoming a mother myself I know I am putting myself at risk as America has the highest maternal mortality rates for a developed nation and is three to four times even higher for Black women. My heart breaks as I think about something that should bring me joy. With Roe v. Wade overturned we will see more systemic inequalities and societal harm like imprisonment and criminalization of women, advocates and medical providers resulting in loss of employment and worse death.

Just yesterday the 6-3 Supreme Court decision overturned a New York law that limited carrying guns outside the home. Amongst hundreds of mass shootings we've had this year, the Supreme Court ruled that Americans have the right to bear arms in public. There is no constitutional right to bodily autonomy but there is, apparently, a constitutional right to conceal a weapon.

It's not lost on me that I celebrated the 50th anniversary of Title IX last night introducing Oakland first women's soccer team. And this morning I am processing the loss of 50 years of Roe v. Wade. I know it feels like two steps forward and twenty-two steps back. I know it feels as BIPOC and as women we cannot get a break.

You may feel frustrated. Anger. Loss of hope. But know you are not alone as two thirds of Americans feel abortion should be legal. Just remember to turn it into action. Take the time to see what rights you and those you love have in your state. Call, text, tweet and email your state representatives to protect abortion. Urge your state to follow Connecticut’s lead to protect abortion providers.  Learn about and share information about the FDA approved medication abortion by mail. And send a supportive message to a woman you love on the dark historic day.

Maybe I am writing this in a dark room because I feel America is in a dark place. I know once the lights come on overturning Roe v. Wade will be real. I know I will have to get up and do the work to dismantle white supremacy, the precipice of patriarchy, lack of gun control, and the fear of what’s to come. But like every day, I will get up because my love language is dismantling white supremacy. I will get through this. You will get through this. We will get through this.

Our Bodies. Not Our Choice. For Now…

Finding Life in Living

By Dr. Akilah Cadet

Note: Written Saturday July 24, 2021. Trigger Warning: About depression and suicidal ideation.

I always play Breakdown by Mariah Carey and Bone Thugs-N-Harmony when I can't take it anymore. The song allows me to cry, scream, and feel validated for "losing my mind." I mean when she belts that part, I have my left finger on my ear and my right one waving to match each note (you know you do it too).

I played the song because the whirlpool button didn't work on my tub. Yes. That may seem like an overreaction to you but to me it felt like the end of the world.

I've been receiving injections in my back for months to help with the hypermobility and inflammation of my spine due to hEDS. Tuesday, I had eight injections in my back. I have to wait 48 hours before I can submerge in water. The injections are painful but luckily, I like needles.

These appointments are in the middle of the day and no one can go with me. I have a routine to emotionally prepare for the pain. I make sure I talk to my fantastic pain medicine doctor as each needle goes in deeper and deeper. I think about my McDonald french fries after. My doctor is really into the work that I do so we always have something to talk about.

I can feel the release of the lidocaine into my muscle and sometimes I twitch. Sometimes it stings. Every time it hurts. I have a high pain tolerance, but it would be nice if someone held my hand.

I started injections at the end of April and will have 13 sessions by the end of the year.

Ironically, the pain increases after the injections for a couple days. I was counting down the minutes to take this bath. As many of you know I bought my first home and my whirlpool tub was one of the first purchases I made. A deep soaking whirlpool tub complete with eight jets to manage the pain. When I told my doctor he said, “that's one of the best decisions you've made.” I was incredibly proud of myself too.

I've had a wonderful bath before giving me a few minutes with minimal pain (was still under renovation but hey). It is one of the few places where I feel like whatever normal is. I haven't felt that in many years.

The button was stuck, frozen. I was devastated.

Every little thing that goes wrong is a ticking time bomb of why is this my life or why am I living? I can spill a drink. Ticking time bomb. I can hit my funny bone. Ticking time bomb. I hold so much in all the time to run my business, take care of clients, take care of the dog, educate the public to keep going to, as I say, “do the work.” But sometimes the bomb goes off.

Living with major depressive disorder is like no other. It creeps up on you when you least expect it. It knows that you're happy and wants to take it away. There are thoughts that are so terrifying that you do all that you can to reclaim joy. I've been living with major depressive disorder for 6 years. I wanted to end my life at least three times. Today I'm in a place where I live for my calendar aka for my obligations not for me.

Fun fact! I'm talking into my phone to write this for you because my hands hurt so much due to hEDS. The other part of my major depressive disorder is that it is triggered by my chronic pain. Sometimes the pain is so unbearable that I question how I can live this way? How can I live another day?

See major depressive disorder makes you feel that every single thing is unfair mixed with how you deserve it or how you're unworthy. My chronic pain compounds it. Every ache and pain solidify the thoughts of wanting it to end.

The pain that is.

People will say the worst thing about major depressive disorder is suicidal ideation but it's really the place before that. Where you know that that feeling would be the next thing. It's this interesting place where you know you have to communicate your needs to your support team; therapist, family, and close friends and that's where you have a choice. Support or worse.

Don't worry, I always go to the support place but having to live with that feeling and emotion of maybe I should start to think about the end is awful. It's like this loop that plays in my head tormenting me. Literally bullying my will to live.

I live in a constant state of pain. Physical pain from my rare health conditions/living with disability and endless procedures/pain management. Mental pain from doing traumatic anti-racism work daily and managing chronic pain. I'm not going to lie, it's incredibly hard. Exhausting. I write this because I think it's important people know what it's like for me and millions of other people that live with chronic pain, disability, and depression.

It's also BIPOC Mental Health Awareness Month.

This week a prominent advocate of the mental health and disability community died by suicide. Erin Gilmer was my age. As a lawyer and activist, she made the world a better place, held doctors accountable, and changed Colorado state law for emergency prescriptions. Her final tweet resonated with me.

I get it. It's incredibly hard to be in pain, manage mental health, constantly be your own patient advocate, educate others, and live in a country that doesn't understand disability. I understand her freedom.

That news article stayed in my loop.

I know that I'm fine. (I'm fine is what I text my therapist this morning. She doesn't like that. But I know that I am fine because I've been through this cycle countless times. I always come out on the other side.)

Ironically, I live with the threat of death every single day. I can have a heart attack at any time due to my coronary artery spasms. If I contracted COVID I most likely wouldn't make it (vaccinated but still very risky for me). So, to have another part of my health due the same thing is cruel and at times too much.

Here is where I remind you that the brain is an organ so mental health is health. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

So why am I sharing this with you? It's because I know how to cope now. Previously, I would go through the same cycle that I've outlined for you and the end result would be an attempt at my life or really dark thoughts and planning on how to make it happen. I wouldn’t talk to anyone even my twin. I'd get up. Go to work. Maybe eat then go to sleep for many many weeks. I'd stop socializing.

I go through the motions of life without taking time to feel the ups and the downs that it brings.

Today, I can write about it. I tell my twin sister I’m getting close to suicidal ideation when I previously hid it from her (to the best of my ability because twins know and we talk without talking). Today I’m crying a lot, but to release the sadness to make space for joy.

Today, I'm able to text my therapist right away instead of waiting for my scheduled session. Call my Mom or a close friend and ask for help. Today, I don't think about the dark side of major depressive of disorder. Today, when I had to check in with my store as a lululemon ambassador, a store manager talked about how important my voice is, admired how I speak the truth, and how she saw I was in a lot of pain this week. Today when I found my car that I thought was stolen there was a text message saying there was a CBD bath soak waiting for me from a friend. Today, when I came home from lululemon there was a cake and flowers at my door from a client.

Today I lived another day.

Today others showed up for me by ask and well magic. Today was a bad-ish day. Tomorrow will happen. I'll have therapy. I’ll cry.  I'll be a keynote speaker at a conference. I'll have cake for breakfast. I'll binge something and nap with my dog. I’ll hold my contractor accountable to fix my tub. Then Monday I'll get up and keep being amazing.

If you or someone you know needs support managing mental health, please visit Mental Health America for tools and support.