Improving the mental health of Native peoples.

The mental well-being of Native peoples is precious. Native peoples often turn to culture ways and practices to find their path forward. Access to support, care, and community are important ways of improving mental health of Native peoples.

Yana achik - where the light and darkness meet | Eli Farinango

‘Yana Achik’ is a series of self portraits and conceptual photographs that depict what it is like to live with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Depression, Anxiety and Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (CPTSD) and how I, as an indigenous woman, navigate this diagnosis by anchoring myself in my traditions. The images root themselves in Kichwa ceremonial practices, using spiritually significant symbols, such as seeds, flowers, fajas, smoke and plants to give life to my story of resilience. Through the usage of multiple exposures I show the cyclical nature of living with my neurodivergence, comparing it to the natural landscapes that surround me during the changing seasons. Through this series, I hope to share my story while shedding light on the particularities that affect our mental health as indigenous peoples (ie. colonization, racism) and the lack of culturally appropriate resources available when looking for support.

In Kichwa, ‘yana’ means “darkness, black, and the great emptiness that exists in the universe.” I have always used the word “darkness” as a metaphor to describe the depression that I have carried with me since I can remember. During my longest depression, and in isolation, I imagined the light that was waiting for me outside. Guided by the sun and its warmth, I knew that there was more waiting for me. ‘Achik’ means “light.” In my community, we often refer to our godmothers as “achik mamas,” as they are meant to be our guides. After a year of learning to live with this diagnosis, I began re-imagining the meaning of ‘yana’. ‘ Yana achik’ is the guide that led me to narrate my experience, to trust my voice, and to see beauty in the transformation my mind and body goes through.

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Conversations with the self. The fear of not understanding the diagnosis of BPD and CPTSD deepened the emptiness in my heart. I was aware of my thought patterns, my emotions, my behaviours through the many journals I had written. In my books I looked

Conversations with the self. The fear of not understanding the diagnosis of BPD and CPTSD deepened the emptiness in my heart. I was aware of my thought patterns, my emotions, my behaviours through the many journals I had written. In my books I looked for the reasons why, looked for advice and comfort in my past self speaking of memories that still live in my body.

Upon being diagnosed I was told the way to heal this is through DBT (Dialectical behavior therapy.) A therapy that gives you the tools and skills to navigate daily life in a “productive” way. I called multiple therapists to set up an appointment only to realize that this was not something I could afford. Therapy is not accessible to families like mine, I realized getting treatment is a luxury, I could not afford.

Conversations with the self | Bethlehem, PA. October 14, 2021.

While being diagnosed is helpful, the western health care system does little to account for the experiences of black, indigenous and people of colour when providing services. After months of waiting, I was finally given a spot in group therapy. After

While being diagnosed is helpful, the western health care system does little to account for the experiences of black, indigenous and people of colour when providing services. After months of waiting, I was finally given a spot in group therapy. After a few sessions, I made the decision to leave after repeatedly having to educate the white facilitator, provide resources, and do emotional labour in a space where I had shown up to learn the skills to work through this diagnosis. I was placed in a position where accessing free therapy from the hospital had further traumatized me, I had to advocate for my experience as an indigenous person to be considered and the result of my labour was that race would be put on the list of topics to not be spoken about in group therapy. I left group therapy confused and angry because whether I like it or not my experience is a racialized experience.

Referral to the Borderline Personality Disorder Service | Hamilton, Canada. November 5, 2020.

I felt like I was lost in a universe all by myself, I looked at the world as it moved on, as the fights continued, as people raged and I was in my room without the ability to get up. I watched my life enter into a state of silence where I no longer f

I felt like I was lost in a universe all by myself, I looked at the world as it moved on, as the fights continued, as people raged and I was in my room without the ability to get up. I watched my life enter into a state of silence where I no longer functioned or could be “productive”. With a candle flickering in the background, I remembered that I wasn't alone. I remembered that the spirits were around me and that I was as powerful as I chose to be.

Looking outside for hope | Bethlehem, PA. October 11, 2021.

Going in and out of these intense emotional states, I found myself being grounded by the smell of the palo santo burning on my desk. Leah in the background talking about yoga, reminding me that my body is sacred and giving me the permission I never k

Going in and out of these intense emotional states, I found myself being grounded by the smell of the palo santo burning on my desk. Leah in the background talking about yoga, reminding me that my body is sacred and giving me the permission I never knew I needed. I remembered that I can breathe, that there is knowledge that lives in me. The smoke of the palo santo acted like a lifeline in the darkness. In the darkness, in yana. In Kichwa, Yana means darkness, black, and the emptiness and vastness of the emptiness or the universe. I have always used the word “darkness” as a metaphor to describe the depression that I have carried with me since I can remember. As the pandemic raged, I finally built the courage to ask for help.

Hamilton, Canada. January 29, 2021.

Death was now all around us, with covid the audacity of having a breakdown only got worse and the reasons for having a breakdown only multiplied. I allowed myself to take the support that the antidepressants offered me. I came to a realization that I

Death was now all around us, with covid the audacity of having a breakdown only got worse and the reasons for having a breakdown only multiplied. I allowed myself to take the support that the antidepressants offered me. I came to a realization that I couldn't do this on my own and that it was ok. On the first day of taking the medications I wrote "I’ve resisted it for so long, i've let my body go through so many emotions for so long because I feel that I am betraying something, that there is something absolutely wrong with me as an indigenous person - who talks about healing - to be engaging in western medicine this way. I feel guilty, I feel like I'm betraying my ancestors. I am walking down a path of denial where I don't acknowledge that I can't do this on my own. Can that happen? Can I both betray my ancestors and honour myself? Am I not one in the same? My ancestors live in my body and if my body is needing this isn't it a greater dishonour to deprive it of the medication it needs?"

Antidepressants | Hamilton, Canada. March 30, 2020.

I had been depressed for so long that the days grew long and the strength of the previous week was no longer around. I lay on my bed staring out the small window and fading into a hole in my chest. I accepted it. In the silence of my parents basement

I had been depressed for so long that the days grew long and the strength of the previous week was no longer around. I lay on my bed staring out the small window and fading into a hole in my chest. I accepted it. In the silence of my parents basement I found a place where I could stop engaging with the outside world. Be safe from the fear that abuse left in my body. Keep people safe from the “danger” that someone like me poses. I had been sleeping for days, stopped eating, barely drank any water and when my parents asked me to come eat, my response was always the same. “I'm working. I'm busy.” And sometimes I was, others, work became my excuse for not seeing other people. The emotional weight of an interaction kept me away from those that I love and loved me back. This is what people mean when they say borderlines have tendencies to isolate - it made sense and I validated my own isolation even before the pandemic. One day, Saywa left me a note because I was asleep for a few days, and that particular day she wanted me to know I was still asleep at 4:50 pm. I broke into tears. I was missing seeing her grow, my hard work was undoing itself, the emails waiting, the projects in pause, and my kitty was already turning 5.

Absences | Hamilton, Canada. September 28, 2019.

I grew up by a river, I would sit on the hill that overlooked the river and watch the water flow. The dogs ran freely, the cows ate the grass and 8 year old me came to dream here. This was my happy place, the sound of the water was a constant reminde

I grew up by a river, I would sit on the hill that overlooked the river and watch the water flow. The dogs ran freely, the cows ate the grass and 8 year old me came to dream here. This was my happy place, the sound of the water was a constant reminder that things will naturally flow. The water gets me. One day in Bethlehem I had a panic attack and Charlie drove me to the nearest forest we could find. I ran inside and saw the walnut trees lining two paths. I heard the water, went to touch it and remembered a song I knew when I was small. I hummed it as the sun lit the water so carefully, with so much love. The sun is always peering in from the smallest creeks and reminding me that life is waiting for me outside of my darkness. I take a deep breath. I remembered my childhood, I remembered my hope.

The water gets me | Monocacy Creek, Bethlehem, PA. October 14, 2021.

I allow myself to feel my darkness. Uku Pacha, the infinite waters, yana pacha, the space I created to hold my spirit, my sadness and the other parts of myself. Somewhere in my darkness I learned to listen to my pain, in my isolation I delved into my

I allow myself to feel my darkness. Uku Pacha, the infinite waters, yana pacha, the space I created to hold my spirit, my sadness and the other parts of myself. Somewhere in my darkness I learned to listen to my pain, in my isolation I delved into my emotions like Tayta once told me. “If you’re going to cry, make sure you cry well. Let it all out.” I cried and held on to the teachings that have come in cycles past.

Monocacy Creek, Bethlehem, PA. October 14, 2021.

Between dreams of dying and flowers being born I traced in my notebook the ideas that I had for a future self, the plans, the projects and the visuals I wanted to create. Photography has always been my outlet, a tool I learned to use to narrate my ex

Between dreams of dying and flowers being born I traced in my notebook the ideas that I had for a future self, the plans, the projects and the visuals I wanted to create. Photography has always been my outlet, a tool I learned to use to narrate my experience and to have proof that what I live is true. In this self portrait, I looked directly into the lens, looking at myself in the future. Looking for the Eli that would find strength in this story and share it with others.

Self portrait | Hamilton, Canada. April 11, 2020.

Throughout all of this what kept me going is the knowledge that there was something beyond the reality that my mind had constructed. That if I touched the water, the rocks, felt the wind, felt the sun, I could tap back into my body and understand my

Throughout all of this what kept me going is the knowledge that there was something beyond the reality that my mind had constructed. That if I touched the water, the rocks, felt the wind, felt the sun, I could tap back into my body and understand my truth. Learn to trust myself and my feelings. Borderline or non borderline, I'm still me and the elements remember the 8 year old me.

Monocacy Creek, Bethlehem, PA. October 14, 2021.

Three deep breaths of a scent that smells like your altar and you will come back to your body. I promised myself I would return to unravel all that got me here, to unknot and untie the things in my lineage that keep me bound in the trauma body. Mo

Three deep breaths of a scent that smells like your altar and you will come back to your body. I promised myself I would return to unravel all that got me here, to unknot and untie the things in my lineage that keep me bound in the trauma body.

Monocacy Creek, Bethlehem, PA. October 15, 2021.

Unravelling of the trauma body. I unravel my story by sharing it. Each knot in my lineage makes itself known in my physical body and it is almost a need that I have to unravel, I let myself be. Cada hilito de mi faja se va zafando y voy entendiendo c

Unravelling of the trauma body. I unravel my story by sharing it. Each knot in my lineage makes itself known in my physical body and it is almost a need that I have to unravel, I let myself be. Cada hilito de mi faja se va zafando y voy entendiendo cada historia tras el tejido. The red thread is used to tie our hair, to put on our alpargates, to make bracelets for protection. The colour is a color that corresponds to the flowers that grow in the mountains, to my blood. To me it is a symbol of memory that travels through time and space in our textiles. That string, that hilito que se va zafando y me muestra historias que necesitan ser contadas.

Monocacy Creek, Bethlehem, PA. October 15, 2021