Today we’d like to introduce you to Mark Tuggle.

Hi Mark, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?

I was clinically diagnosed with generalized anxiety and moderate depression in February 1995. When my holistic health practitioner shared the news we didn’t have a conversation about this startling revelation. I saw the words on paper, but denial overshadowed discussion. My default reaction to bad news is to hope it magically disappears.

At that time in my life I was a bitter, miserable and unhappy individual. I was homeless, jobless and penniless. I trusted no one. My fears of abandonment, intimacy and rejection shaped my co-dependency. I had little contact with family or friends. Isolation gave me a distorted sense of comfort and security – like alcohol, ice cream or pornography at two o’clock in the morning.

My life had no meaning, purpose or value. I didn’t believe in a loving God. In fact, God, as I understood Him or Her, was condemning, judgmental, punishing and unforgiving. I endured random thoughts of suicide and guarded secrets about my invisible, sad and withdrawn emotional state. The physical, sexual and verbal abuse I experienced in my youth were destined for silence in my unmarked grave.

Through grace, a trusted friend suggested I consider getting into therapy. She felt talking with a professional might help alleviate the stigma of living with mental illness, but therapy? I didn’t know any Black people in therapy, until she confided she (!) was in therapy – and it was helping her heal. I was shocked because I thought therapy was only for rich, crazy white people.

I was dead ass wrong!

My experience in therapy helped me say no, set boundaries and shift priorities. Therapy helped me acknowledge my primary role in fostering unhealthy relationships. Therapy helped me embrace small victories when I felt unworthy. of success. Therapy helped me seek gratitude and stop complaining. Therapy helped me looked inward for the source of my discontent. Therapy helped me get honest with my irresponsible and self-destructive patterns. Therapy helped me to consider better choices with food, money and sex.

Therapy is not a one-size-fits-all solution, however the experience helped to boost parts of my esteem, heal parts of my trauma and raise parts of my self-awareness. I’m grateful for the various professionals who held space for my broken spirit. At some point in my life journey, I felt compelled to give back to others what they gave to me.

I’m an author, educator, mentor and talk radio show host in New York City. I never anticipated my current reality would be so fulfilling yet it warms my heart to be present when others share the impact my lived experience has on their life today, both personally and professionally. God has transformed my private pain into public purpose.

“Not everything that we face can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.” – James Baldwin

We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?

I blamed others for my choices, feelings and shortcomings. I didn’t know how to get out of my own way. I lacked confidence, faith and integrity when making painful decisions. I learned asking for help is a demonstration of courage, I realized being vulnerable affirms my humanity. I want to live a principle-centered life.

Still, when my t-cells dropped to 57 my fears of death consumed every waking moment. Losing my best friend to drug addiction hurt my heart. After resigning from my job, I lived on $300/month for over a year. When my boyfriend ended our intimate partnership – the day before cooking him a full course Thanksgiving meal – I was devastated. Coping with the ongoing health challenges of my 98 year-old mother has unearthed feelings of grief, loss and sadness.

God called my father home almost 16 years ago. I miss him everyday. My primary care physician was concerned I might have anal cancer and the decision to undergo surgery was life-saving. I ended two 10-year friendships when the pain of remaining the same became greater than my fear of change. A couple of years ago, I became overweight and prediabetic. I had a severe foot infection which, had I not treated immediately, could have led to amputation.

Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?

I’m the author of Cultural Silence and Wounded Souls: Black Men Speak about Mental Health. This intergenerational anthology features heartfelt stories and valuable resources intended to benefit men from diverse backgrounds. My passion for mental health and serving humanity warranted opportunities to share my experience on various podcasts in the last 18 months.

In the spirit of humility, I was a guest on shows in Atlanta, Boston, Los Angeles, New York City, Washington DC, Canada, Nigeria, South Africa and the UK. I was honored to appear solo – and sometimes with others – to discuss issues of manhood, masculinity, mental health and other relevant issues within our respective communities.

At the beginning of 2024, I began my journey as co-host of a talk radio show in New York City, The Mental Health Mirror with Mark. Lester Kenion is the co-host on www.fetelifestation.com. We broadcast live every other Saturday at 1PM EST for one-hour. I’m grateful Mr. Kenion gave me the opportunity to be in community dialogue with brothers who share their personal and professional views from a unique racialized lens.

I’m most proud to be a child of God. Although it took several decades of acceptance, forgiveness and understanding, I have an intimate relationship with a loving God today. We co-create in balance, harmony and reciprocity. Everywhere God is I am. Everywhere I am God is. Also, my lived experience was the catalyst for spiritual surgery. There have been so many amazing people who crossed my path and showed me how to become a whole human being.

We’d love to hear about any fond memories you have from when you were growing up?

My favorite childhood memory is birthday number six. My grandfather, whom everybody called Daddy Roy, bought me a fire engine hat. It was blazing red. I like bright colors. I was so happy. Daddy Roy gifted a Black boy with joy. At first, I was confused because I don’t remember telling him I wanted to be a fireman. But that wasn’t important. He was my super hero. He wore dignity like Dr. King. He was kind, loving, patient, respectful and warm. I lived in Chicago, Illinois. He lived in Gary, Indiana. I loved spending quality time in the summer with him.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.culturalsilencewoundedsouls.com
• Instagram: markjudgetuggle
• Facebook: Mark J. Tuggle
• LinkedIn: Mark Tuggle
• Twitter: @MarkTuggle4