If You Are Struggling, I Am Too

Sometimes you don’t need encouragement. You don’t need advice. You just need to know that you are not the only one struggling.

I haven't written a blog since May. There are a lot of reasons for that. Life has been happening faster than I have been able to process it, and right now, I don't have a beautiful way to package any of it. I'm struggling. That's really what this blog is about. Not overcoming. Not resilience. Not looking on the bright side. Not finding the silver lining. Just struggling. Because sometimes when you're struggling, the last thing you want somebody to tell you is that everything is going to be okay. Sometimes you don't want another motivational quote. You don't want somebody telling you how strong you are. You don't want somebody reminding you that you've survived worse. Sometimes you just want somebody to sit beside you and say:

I'm struggling too.

So, if that's where you are right now, I'm sitting here with you.

A Lot Has Happened Since May

One of the biggest things that has happened in my life is something I never imagined I would be writing. Because of Ancestry and DNA, I discovered that the man I believed was my biological father wasn't my biological father. At 43 years old, I discovered another part of myself. I found my biological father. And with him came an entire side of my family I didn't know I had. I found out I have brothers. I found an aunt. I found relatives and connections that existed my entire life without me knowing they were there. There is something almost impossible to explain about learning something like that as an adult. Because I'm happy to know them. But happiness isn't the only emotion that comes with something this enormous. There are questions. There is grief. There is confusion. There is anger. There is curiosity. There are decades that cannot be recovered. There is the strange experience of looking at people you have only recently met and realizing that they are your family. And then there is the process of figuring out what all of that means for who you thought you were. I'm still processing it. I don't have a conclusion.

My Anxiety Has Been Bad

At the same time, my anxiety has been incredibly difficult. There are days when my thoughts will not quiet down. There are situations where I find myself anticipating what someone is going to say before they've even said it. There are things happening in my life that feel enormous because I'm already carrying so much. And one of the hardest parts is that I don't really have friends I can call and talk to about all of this. That is a difficult sentence to write publicly. But it's true. I feel alone. The therapist I was seeing is no longer someone I can turn to either. The way that relationship ended felt indirect, but the end result is the same: the person who had been part of my support system isn't there anymore. So there are moments when I have all of these emotions, all of these thoughts, all of these things happening around me, and nowhere for them to go. Sometimes they just stay inside my head. And lately, my head has been a very loud place.

And Then There Is Being Black

I LOVE BEING BLACK. Let me make that clear. I love my Blackness. I love Black people. I love our history, our creativity, our humor, our brilliance, our culture, our survival, our beauty and the countless ways we have created something out of circumstances that were designed to destroy us. But loving being Black does not mean that being Black isn't exhausting. Right now, it is exhausting. I see stories involving Black children and Black people dying under disturbing circumstances (LYNCHING), and I see the questions Black communities raise when some of those deaths are LABELED suicides. I see Black people asking questions that sometimes feel like they disappear into the air. I see what is happening politically in the United States. I see decisions being made by our government that affect black people.

EVERYTHING THAT IS AFFECTING BLACK PEOPLE IN 2026...

Gerrymandering. Voter suppression. Attacks on voting rights. Racial profiling. Police brutality. Disproportionate police violence. Mass incarceration. Disproportionate sentencing. The school-to-prison pipeline. Racial disparities in the criminal justice system. Black maternal mortality. Health-care disparities. Medical bias. Environmental racism. Food deserts. Housing discrimination. Redlining's continuing effects. Housing displacement. Gentrification. Homelessness. Rental discrimination. Employment discrimination. Wage disparities. Wealth inequality. Generational wealth disparities. Lending discrimination. Appraisal discrimination. Educational inequity. School segregation. Disproportionate school discipline. Underfunded schools. Book bans. Attacks on Black history. Attempts to restrict the teaching of racism and slavery. Attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion programs. Workplace discrimination. Hair discrimination. Colorism. Anti-Blackness. Racial stereotypes. Racial slurs. Hate crimes. White supremacist violence. Online racism. Algorithmic bias. Discrimination in artificial intelligence. Unequal access to technology. Black children being adultified. Black girls being disproportionately disciplined. Black boys being criminalized. Missing Black children receiving less media attention. Missing Black women receiving less media attention. Disparities in how Black deaths are investigated and reported. Community distrust when suspicious Black deaths are ruled suicides. The psychological toll of repeatedly seeing Black people killed. Racial trauma. Intergenerational trauma. The expectation that Black people remain resilient through everything. The expectation that Black women always be strong. Workplace code-switching. Respectability politics. Tokenism. Being the only Black person in the room. Having to repeatedly explain racism to people who do not experience it. Political attacks on civil-rights protections. Rollbacks of diversity initiatives. Challenges to affirmative-action efforts. Economic insecurity. Rising housing costs. Rising food costs. Child-care costs. Transportation inequity. Unequal access to capital for Black entrepreneurs. Discrimination against Black-owned businesses. The racial wealth gap. Displacement of historically Black communities. Cultural appropriation. Erasure of Black history. Erasure of Black contributions. Underrepresentation in leadership. Underrepresentation in government. Underrepresentation in media. Stereotypical portrayals in media. Unequal media coverage of Black victims. Environmental hazards concentrated in Black communities. Climate-change vulnerability. Maternal-health disparities. Mental-health disparities. Lack of culturally competent mental-health care. Isolation. Exhaustion. Anxiety. Fear. Anger. Grief. Racial battle fatigue. And the exhaustion of having to prove that these problems exist in the first place.

I see what is happening to people. I see the fear, anger, uncertainty and exhaustion around me. And I carry it. Sometimes I wish I didn't. But I do. And living in Clark County has added another layer to that exhaustion for me. There are experiences I've had here that have affected me deeply. There are things I have witnessed, experienced and fought against that have left marks on me. Sometimes I feel like I'm constantly fighting something, systems, attitudes, assumptions, expectations, racism, bureaucracy, people's behavior, or simply the exhaustion of having to explain why something is a problem in the first place. I'm tired. And apparently, I'm not the only person in my family feeling some of this weight. My biological father and I have talked about what is happening in this country, and he told me that he is struggling with it too. There was something about hearing that from him that stayed with me. Here is this man I only recently discovered is my father, and somehow, in the middle of everything else we're trying to understand about one another, we're also trying to understand the country we're living in. Father and daughter. Two Black people. Two generations. Both struggling.

I Don't Have an Inspirational Ending

Normally, this is probably where a writer is supposed to turn everything around. This is where I'm supposed to tell you what I've learned. I'm supposed to tell you that I'm stronger now. I'm supposed to give you five ways to manage anxiety. I'm supposed to tell you to keep pushing. I'm supposed to say that tomorrow will be better. I'm not going to do that. Because I don't know what tomorrow is going to be. And right now, I don't need to transform my struggle into something inspirational to make it worthy of being spoken aloud. Sometimes struggle is just struggle. Sometimes grief is grief. Sometimes loneliness is loneliness. Sometimes anxiety is anxiety. Sometimes being tired means you're tired. And sometimes the most compassionate thing another human being can give you isn't advice. It's company. So that's what this blog is.

Company. If you're watching what is happening in this country and you're struggling, I am too. If you're Black and you're exhausted by carrying things you wish you didn't have to carry, I am too. If your family is changing and you're trying to figure out where you belong, I am too. If your anxiety is loud, mine is too. If you don't have somebody to call right now, I understand that loneliness. If you don't want advice, solutions, encouragement or another person telling you to be strong, I'm not going to give you any of that here. I'm just going to tell you the thing I sometimes need someone to tell me:

You are not the only person struggling.

I'm struggling too.

And today, that is all I have to give.

— Lẹwa Ubunifu

August 29, 2026