Four Tiny Pills

 You ever wonder what the first thing you talk about will be when you have the world at your fingertips what will come to your mind, that’s what I thought about when I did my first interview with Nashville Voyager I had so much anger and frustration in me from all that had happened between me and my mother and my ex-husband that I was fueled with the rage towards the black community . Not because of the fact that I was hospitalized, but because of the stereotype of being an angry black women being labeled as delusional because you want more than the average black woman, not knowing how to accomplish these things, but having the drive and enthusiasm to want more almost seems like something to be ridiculed by doctors, throwing large assumptions on my plans for my future as grand thoughts label in my ambitions as schizophrenic behavior, and Calling, my visions for my future hallucinations one must only wonder is your purpose to serve me or to humiliate me, ridicule me for the things that I want to accomplish in my life and make me feel smaller than I Am These are the questions I was left with after my diagnosis because they held no basis. I still struggle to come to terms with and accept my diagnosis, as I do not believe that I am schizophrenic, there are moments where I think back on the concocted stories that I told myself, and it makes me realize that maybe there is some basis towards this schizophrenic diagnosis. Was I living in my reality or was my reality somewhere in between real and what I was hoping for. Does God really talk to us or was I just hallucinating. I’m no more special than you. Why would he talk to me, why would he give me all these dreams and ambitions if he knew that I have no way of completing these task, if Noah was around during this time, maybe he would be sharing hospital rooms with me. I am no more a dreamer than you are, but I take tiny strides towards making myself more available to the people who need me most. Nothing has brought  me joy like motherhood, play fighting with my child and watching him perfect his jobs while wondering if this is bad behavior, after all, he is a martial artist the real world is waiting for him to try out his skills why not practice. As I sit here listening to the fireworks blasting in the background I can’t help but wonder what my future holds for me wanting to do a Ted X talk and discuss the Discrepancies within the mental health system. I want to advocate for other members of the mental health system, I remember freezing and not being able to adequately Seek help when I was getting raped. It went on for three years, going along with my rapist plans seemed almost ridiculous. Now that I think about it I should’ve went to the police the first time he told me he was going to kill my family. But the time between him doing that and me seeking l help. I might’ve lost my entire family. You never know how crazy people are, especially those who are in military service or those who have serve the military before. The risk was too great. I settled for music instead. I guess you can call it squashed my silence replaced by my vocal cords on tracks that I could barely speak a tune or two too afraid of saying the wrong thing or being called stupid or an idiot again, belittled, and talk down to as if my feelings and emotions didn’t matter Sounding like a fucking fool for lack of better words. I think about celebrities like Oprah Winfrey, Steven Spielburg, Chris Hemsworth, and I wonder what they all have in common if not driven by the money are they driven by their passions for the world. What drives them what wakes them up every morning? What does their motivation come from?  What makes them want to get up and live this life. This title makes me feel smaller than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Now, when I fill out applications, I am scared to inform them that I indeed have mental illness schizophrenia. They call it. I don’t yet understand what it means and I don’t no entirely how it affects me, but according to the doctors when I’m in a schizophrenic state, I don’t recognize it myself. It has to be identified by other people call it gaslighting if you may, but someone should not be in charge of telling me that I am not acting for lack of better word, right, who gets the final say here anyways? Now my behavior is hyper monitored by this false sense of security that has now befallen my life. I have done things that I cannot explain because the psychiatric medication took me by full surprise and forced me down the rabbit hole of crazy ideas. In the moment thinking those ideas were splendid thoughts now realizing there’s far deeper problems, rooted in me than I thought possible. How do I come to terms with this new reality and this feeling of not being in control. How do I approach the man I love and let him know that I am not in control anymore and that I have to rely on four tiny pills to maintain my mental health. Who will want me, knowing that I am not in controlling that without psychiatric medication I may as well be walking down the street naked. My fear of that happening again scares me being lost in my own neighborhood. Uncontrollable anger fits of rage, all related to my PTSD, domestic violence and hidden mental illness. Who am I without these four pills I wonder.