Bri Cole

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE

      Raised by a marine father and a probation officer mother, I was never exposed to mental health, yet I experienced trauma at a very young age. At just six years old I was straddling between two households during my parent’s divorce. I can confidently say that was my first imprint of trauma. Fast forward to eleven years old, I walked in on my older brother attempting suicide because life wasn’t going as he planned. At the time I had no idea that was a suicide attempt but I’m grateful I saved (or scared) him from doing anything that night. Ignorant to the severity, I promised I wouldn’t tell our parents and that was yet another trauma I endured and buried.

     My first personal slap in the soul of “sadness, feeling lost, acting out” was in 2014 when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer just seven months after losing my grandmother to the same battle. Later in 2015 as I was walking into my senior year as a dean’s list D1 athlete and even began a new relationship, I believed I was managing my circumstances great until a month later when I found out I was eleven weeks pregnant and undergoing a misscarriage. I hid my emotions pretty well, but soon everything began to affect me: my mom beginning chemo/radiation, my brother going in and out of jail, having to hide the fact that I experienced a miscarriage, trying to stay motivated for school, and then my spring semester GPA of a 0.6 finally broke me. I was so afraid my dreams were coming to an end and I didn’t know how to function. I spent a lot of time isolated, until I remembered I was a “strong Black woman”  and as a “strong Black woman” you can’t be down for long. So I got up and continued track and school operating in a high functioning depression. 

       Fast forward to 2018 I moved to Atlanta and in 4 months I was pregnant again. Being in Atlanta was one of the hardest times of my life. I felt isolated, chastised, alone, and stupid. After my son was born, I moved back to California in March of 2019 and came back stronger than ever— ready to prove others wrong. I was ready to be super mom and I was doing it and doing it well. Then the end of the year hit and everything I thought I bounced off hit me like a ton of bricks. On December 14th 2019, I sat in my bed drowning in all of the words, hurt, trauma, and pain I buried throughout my 26 years of life.

After a week of doing nothing and just thinking of the series of events I looked up a Black female therapist online and began breaking down the walls I built within myself. During therapy I learned my triggers and how to get in front of them before they consume me. I also began channeling my creativity into healing. When I’m feeling really heavy I get in my zone and start to create rather it be sewing, writing or painting. It’s the sense of knowing I have the power to create something beautiful from nothing; just like I did with myself. Without the effort I put into healing and creating a safe space within myself, I wouldn’t be in the healthy relationship I’m in today and I definitely wouldn’t be the mother I am. I’m thankful for the situations I’ve faced and how I used them to understand myself and be a voice to those who may be facing depression and suicide.