Joy for Chan

I am filled with infinite JOY!!! My friend Chan is okay.  He somehow drove out to California and is in a hospital in Huntington Beach.  I am so overwhelmed with gladness.  The last 2 days have been so hard for all of us that were concerned for him.  I am just glad he is alive and ok.

Maybe he can get the kind of help he needs in this hospital.  Lord knows I've been in enough hospitals to know that there are some that give you the help you need and those that don't.  I was careful in my prayers to never say he was dead or that I was praying for his soul to find peace.  I speak of him in the present, because I never gave up hope.  

Your probably wondering why such a fuss over someone I hardly know?  I don't know Chan deeply, but what I do know is that he is a sweet guy.  And if we had lost him, it would have broken my heart.

I guess you have to be one of us to understand.  It's a mental patient thing.  We go into these hospitals and outpatient programs complete strangers, but while we are there we form bonds because we know each others secrets, our darkest memories, our wishes and hopes.  

I have praised and thanked the Lord since I found out.  The stone on my heart was rolled away.  Ain't nobody like my Jesus!!!! Hallelujah to the mountain tops!!! Our God is an AWEsome God, He reigns from Heaven above with wisdom, power and LOVE. Our God is an AWEsome God!!

I can now rest my head on my pillow tonight with no worries.  I can relax until school starts again.  I can read my book, and let my imagination run wild.  Will some other plight befall me? Probably, but will be nothing to fearing the worst about someone you love. 

I just want to love people, is that so wrong? Yes I realize that some people are going to hurt me because of their wickedness.  But The Lord says to love your enemy.  I do. Mostly, I feel sorry for them, because they do not understand the love of Jesus Christ.  What do I do if someone wants to kill me?  Well,  I will fight back.  I value my life just like anyone else, but if I am killed, I know my soul is saved and there is a place for me prepared in heaven.  

Some people do not believe in heaven, hell, God or the devil.  They ask, what if your wrong?  I just tell them that I do believe and have prepared myself for the next world.  If I am wrong, then so be it, but if I am right, what about you?  Where is your soul going?  I'd rather be on the side of truth when the Lord returns.

I do not care a sign that says, Repent the End is Near.  No, I let my faith shine forth through my actions and words.  Am I kind?  Am I grateful?  Am I charitable?  I want these things to show through me.  It is not a thing I boast about.  I can't boast, these are not things I do because I am told to do.  These are things I do because I am moved to do.  To be delivered from sin is to take on a new way of life.  The more you walk in the way of the Lord, the better you feel.  I don't know how to explain it, really, but it's like putting on new socks.  The old socks are dirty and worn, but the new socks have bounce and spring and better support.  The Lord gives me bounce, spring and support. 

I know I am never alone with Him.  I always have someone to talk to, and someone to lean on.  If you keep still, and listen to your heart, you can hear what the Lord has to say to you.  Plus, he keeps his promises.  My friend Chan is living proof that prayer works.  And that my friends is cause for JOY!!!!!

Stupid Girl

I took my final exam in computer science class today.  I got 62.9%.  I was hoping to pass.  I studied the module and did well on my chapter tests.  But this was a timed test and I don't do well on timed tests.  The test was on Access.  I failed.  So now I feel stupid.  All my life my grades have been important to me.  It was how I measured myself.  Nothing below an A was acceptable.

I was an honors student all through middle school and high school.  I got one bad grade on a paper in my high school psychology class, and my world fell apart.  I didn't know it then, but that's where the bipolar started to reveal itself.  I had to do everything perfectly or else I was a complete and utter failure.  Getting a C on a test was the same as getting a F.  I felt like I might as well not even have tried.  That attitude followed me to college.

In high school, I was in advanced classes.  I got honors all 4 years.  I was known as one of the smart kids.  When I got to college, things were different.  I wasn't so special anymore.  There were other students just as smart or smarter than I was.  I set myself up for failure.  I was determined to get an A on every exam and homework assignment. I was in a constant state of anxiety.  The first year was fine, it was just a do over of my senior year of high school. The first semester of my sophomore year was good too.  But then, I had to get a job to help pay for school.  I was missing my parents.  After that, I don't remember too much.  I remember crying a lot, and not wanting to leave my dorm.  All of my friends were white, and so was the faculty.  

The first time I lost control was in religious studies class.  I went to a catholic college.  For some reason, I started crying and I couldn't stop.  I went back to my dorm and told my classmates to tell the teachers I was sick.  I managed to pull myself together for a couple of weeks, when I was in English literature class, it all hit the fan.  I couldn't concentrate, so I wasn't paying attention.  The teacher asked me a question, and when I could answer, she looked me dead in the eye and said "You're slipping".  I burst into tears and ran from class.  I never went back to her class, and whenever I saw her on campus I turned the other way.  I ended up with an incomplete.

I was a pre-med major, and I had to take the make it or break it class of organic chemistry.  I was in over my head.  I got a D, but to move forward to med school a D in organic chem was not going to cut it.  I tried to take it in the summer at community college, but it didn't help.  I was drowning in a cesspool of depression. The weight of my failures had gotten to be too much.  I dropped out at the end of my sophomore year.  I guess now, in hindsight I could have changed majors, but I was going to be a doctor, that's all I had ever known.  

I spent the summer in my room, sleeping, reading, listening to Pat Benatar.  I felt like such a complete idiot.  My parents didn't really know what to do with me.  My mom took me to a psychiatrist, but I was misdiagnosed and the antidepressants weren't working. 

I have always regretted dropping out.  Went I went to collage in 2004 that was for an associates degree.  Again, I had to be perfect, and I was. I graduated with honors.  But I wanted a bachelors degree.  That's why I am back at school now.  

Do I still feel the need to be perfect. Yes and no.  I want to get As and graduate with honors. But If I don't I guess it will be okay.  The biggest thing will be getting the degree.  I don't know if I'll ever use it.  Not to many companies hire people over 50.  I don't know when I'll graduate.  Right now, I'm only part-time with 6 credit hours a semester.  I'm afraid to carry more than 9 for fear of a manic or depressive episode. But we'll see.  You know, I KNOW I'm not stupid.  That's just an old thinking pattern that I have to constantly fight off.  I know I've got what it takes.  It's the fear of a bipolar episode that drags me down.  I'm getting better at controlling them, but they still come. Sometimes I know if I've been triggered, sometimes I don't.  It's the ones I miss that worry me.  This illness is sneaky.  It's like walking near the railroad tracks with your headphones on; by the time you hear the train it's too late.  

Quite frankly, I'm tired of feeling stupid.  It comes with a terrible shame.  I wish there was a pill for it.  I wish there was a pill for a lot of things in my life right now.  But there isn't.  I just have to fight it off minute by minute.  I don't do day by day or even hour by hour.  I take things at the moment because that's all I can handle.  More than that and my body goes on high alert.  

So, I am not stupid.  My head knows that, can somebody find a way to tell my heart?

Peace,Love,Joy

Bev

My Friend Chan

I have a friend.  His name is Chan.  He lives in Colorado now.  He is in deep trouble.  He left a video on his Facebook page telling all of his friends goodbye.  He tried to commit suicide today.  I hope he did not succeed.  

I met him on an October day in Pennsylvania.  It was during one of my hospital stays for depression. I noticed him right away.  He has an open, warm inviting face, a shy smile.  He was 20 then, not more than a boy.  He has been battling anxiety and depression for most of his short life.  From what I understand, he did not have a good childhood.  None of us did.  

Chan likes to draw.  He is very talented.  I told him he should go to graphic arts school.  He just laughed it off.  He doesn't think he is worth the trouble, but he is worth it.  He has a kind, generous, loving spirit.  It has just been hurt a lot.  People with the biggest hearts are often hurt the most.  We care too much, we love too much and we are too kind.  So people take advantage.

I didn't talk much when I was in the hospital with Chan, but when I did speak, he listened.  He told me that I was a good person.  This was very hard to accept giving what I felt of myself.  But it started a spark within me.

Chan is a very handsome young man.  He reminds me of my nephew a lot. The way he walks, talks and laughs.  So, I grew to love Chan.  I think of him as the son I could never have.  I only wish he would talk more about his feelings.  I don't have his number, and he doesn't have mine.  I only know him through space and time on Facebook.

He has a room mate, whom I hope found out in time.  I want Chan to be some place safe, where he can sit and read all the messages on his wall. I want Chan to wake up tomorrow and say Fuck! Pardon the language, but I want him to get mad and fight the demons in his mind that have forced him into such a dark place.  I want him to see the sun, and know that he is part of that light.  Like it or not, we have illnesses, and our particular illness talk to us when we are alone and say bad things.  I want to teach Chan how not to believe the lies his mind tells him.  

He said in his video that he was a coward until the very end.  That is not true.  A coward does not fight like he fights.  Cowards go down and stay down, but that is not Chan.  He packed up and moved to Colorado several months ago and got a good job.  That is not a coward.  He had a girlfriend.  Cowards don't put their hearts out there.  

I want him to know that I think he is very special.  I told him, but I don't think I said it enough.  In the end, it is all up to Chan.  I hope he survives, because if he doesn't, one of the stars in my night sky will go out.  I hope this pray is not too late, but Father God, send Chan back to us.  It is not his time.  He has too much life to live yet.  Please be with him on this journey, give him the strength, the courage and the will to fight one day at a time.  I will help in any way I can.  In Jesus Holy name I pray 

Amen

Prayer Life

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed it be thy name

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth

As it is in Heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us

And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.  Amen

I say this every night, and then I talk to God.  I tell Him about my day, how I felt and I thank Him for everything He has done for me, is doing for me and will do for me.  It comes easy to me.  It wasn't always that way.  I used to think that God despised me, so He didn't listen to me.  I had it all wrong.  I thought He had turned his back on me, but it was me who turned my back on Him.

I have learned in the past 2 years that God has always been there, waiting for me.  He had his arms open wide for me, like a father welcoming home his children.  I am His child, made in His own image.  He did welcome me home.  When I was broken, bruised and weeping, He welcomed me. He told me not to cry anymore, that everything would be okay.  All I needed to do is trust Him.  God then held out His hand to me, and I took it.  I told Him I had nothing to give but my love.  He said that was all he ever wanted.

God's love is free.  It comes without restrictions.  We only need to live together as one people, love one another, and love Him.  That does not seem like too much to me.  Of course, if you are the type of person who spreads nothing but messages of hate and destruction, then you are on the side of the enemy.

It is easy to become saved.  All you need to do is proclaim the Jesus Christ is the son of God and is your Lord and Savior.  Then comes the hard part.  It's just like gardening.  Once the seed had been sown, it needs to be nourished, weeded, watered and tilled.  That is hard work.  Plus, once the devil sees that you have pledged your life to Christ, he works that much harder against you.  That's why it is important to pray often, read your bible, attend worship services, and repent your sins.  

Just as important, you must change your life if it puts you in the path of sin.  You may have to say goodbye to some old friends and family members who will do and say whatever they can to make you stay with them.  Men are weak hearted, so often we give into temptation.  But, you must fight this temptation with the word of the Lord.  People will soon see you are serious and will leave you alone.

Although it sometimes feels like it, we are never alone.  Jesus is always with you, fighting the fight with you, struggling with you and comforting you.  I had forgotten that, so I struggled with my bipolar by myself.  I couldn't do it.  On 3 occasions, I turned away from God and was ready to hand myself over to Satan.  Each time God woke me up, saving my life.  

I never really learned how to pray, until I just thought I would keep it simple. I will pray the Our Father, and then just talk to God.  He gave me the words to say, some of them incoherent because I was crying, but still, God knows what is in my heart always.

He can do it for everyone.  It's easy really.  Reading the bible can be a challenge.  I would recommend a new revised American bible instead of the King James, which with it's thous, thees and yea verily can be quite cumbersome.  I have a catholic study bible that has reading guides so that I can truly understand what I am reading.  It has become part of my daily routine. It really feeds my spirit. I feel lost without it.  

What is my prayer tonight?  Thanksgiving for a peaceful and productive day, no anxiety, no more pain, no more fatigue, the food I ate.  Prayers for peace in my heart and mind and around the world. prayers for my family.  A special prayer for a financial blessing, and I will ask Him to to watch over me as I sleep, granting a deep restful sleep without nightmares or anxiety.  Finally, I will ask for the energy to face tomorrow no matter what comes.  Amen

Bone Tired: Part 2

Well, I got some relief, but not from my doctor.   It was through prayer to God the Father Almighty.  Last night I prayed that he remove the pain from my bones, and the fatigue from my body.  This morning I woke up refreshed in spirit of mind and relieved in body.  Can I get an Amen?!!

I was once one of those who did not believe in the power of prayer, but I can tell you, if it were not for the prayers of a lot of people, myself included, I would not be here.  My hands still hurt, but my large bones and joints are no longer aching.  I did contact my doctor and we are halving the dose of the medication. 

Today has been a day of ups and downs. I don't really feel like myself.  I feel like I'm outside of myself watching myself going through the motions of my day. It's a very strange feeling, not one I like.  It usually means that an anxiety attack is looming, when I feel this disconnected.  But I don't feel anxious about anything.  I guess that's a trick of the disease, hits you when you're not looking. 

I haven't been able to watch TV for 3 weeks.  I watch Netflix in bed every night but I don't look at them as the same thing.  Mainly I watch Everybody Loves Raymond.  It helps clear out the days troubles.  It's harmless and doesn't contain anything nightmare worthy.  I watch it after I take my medicine.  2 or 3 episodes and I'm out for the night.  Tonight though, I am surprisingly alert. I don't know.  I have an appointment with Mary on Thursday, that will be good.  Mary is my therapist. She is totally awesome.  She really listens to me, and reads my body language quite well. 

I think I will make myself some cookies and milk.  Then I'll go to bed.  Tomorrow is a reading day.  I am currently reading The Fellowship of the Ring.  I just finished The Hobbit.  I thought it was quite good.  The movies did a good job with it.  I get all my books at the library.  The library is a fabulous place, everyone should go there.  I think I may write a book one day.  It will be based on my alter ego. Her name is Babe Hawthorne.  I'll have to tell you something about her. But not tonight.  Let's just say she is everything I am not, or does the things that I want to do but am too chickenshit to try.

Bone Tired

I don't think this new drug I started last week is going to work out.  I am lying in a darkened room, shades closed because the light is to bright.  As I write this the bones in my hands and even my fingernails hurt.  I can't even get the toothbrush to my mouth, my joints hurt so much.  I sent an email to my doctor telling him what's going on with me.
The fatigue from this is too much to bear.  All I have the energy to do, is go to the bathroom. My joints and large bones ache as if I was moving something extremely heavy.  The major reaction to this drug is supposed to be liver related.  But all of that is fine.  I need to go find something for dinner, but my body is racked with pain.  I've been in my room all day, with Prince songs swirling in my head.  Can't believe he's gone.
My hands are really starting to hurt.....This is all for now.

When Doves Cry

Dig if you will, the picture                                                                               

Of you and I engaged in a kiss
The sweat of your body covers me                                                             
Can you my darling, can you picture this?

Dream if you can a courtyard
An ocean of violets in bloom
Animals strike curious poses
They feel the heat, the heat between me and you

How can you just leave me standing
Alone in a world that's so cold?
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father, too bold

Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like when the doves cry

Touch if you will, my stomach
Feel how it trembles inside
You've got the butterflies all tied up
Don't make me chase you, even doves have pride

How can you just leave me standing
Alone in a world so cold?
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father, too bold

Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied

Why do we scream at each other?

This is what it sounds like when doves cry

How can you just leave me standing
Alone in a world that's so cold?
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father, too bold

Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like when doves cry

When doves cry, when doves cry, when doves cry
Don't cry

Oh yeah all right, oh yeah oh yeah
Oh yeah oh yeah, oh yeah oh yeah
Oh yeah oh yeah, oh yeah oh yeah

When doves cry, when doves cry
When doves cry

Ah, ah, ah, ooo
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ooo
When doves cry, don't cry
Darling don't cry
Don't cry, don't cry, don't, don't cry

It's Nothing, I'm FINE

Very often when you ask someone how she is doing she'll say "fine".  It's not great, terrific, horrible or bad.  The answer is "fine".  Chances are if you really take the time to listen to my voice or look in my eyes, you'll see that I am not fine.  If anyone has been around a mentally ill person, you know we have our own language.  Fine in the lingo of our group FINE stands for Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional.  So, when a mentally ill person, says that everything if fine, dig a little deeper.

With me, I'm always fine just as anxiety is getting to the point of a panic attack.  Then, suddenly I can't breathe, am inconsolable, and incoherent.  

I am FINE when I go to sleep at 5 PM and don't eat. I am FINE when I don't shower for weeks on end or wear the same clothes all the time.  I am FINE when I lock the door to the bathroom and turn the water on full blast so you can't hear me sobbing.  I am FINE when there are blisters on my arms shaped like the small circle of a cigarette. 

Sometimes, I am more than FINE.  There are times when I am so beaten down, that I would welcome any relief, even death.  At those times, I just want to go to sleep and never wake up.  But, I do wake up, and then it's time to face another day of being FINE.

Why can't I just tell someone?  Because, most people are ignorant asses.  They say stupid things like "cheer up", "it can't be that bad" or "snap out of it".  If I could snap out of it, don't you think I would.

Do you think I choose to have this illness?  If I could choose any illness it would be one that gets some respect! The mentally ill are constantly be told that they are attention seekers, lazy, worthless, and just trying to get out of working.  That's right, I choose to live in poverty simply because I don't want to work.

The fact is, I do want to have a good job, with good benefits so I can take care of myself.  But, I can't do that if I have a panic attack at the thought of leaving the house.  The depression weighs a ton, and makes it hard to move.  All I do is sleep, but I get no rest.  What am I supposed to do if I am at work and have a hallucination or panic attack.  I might be able to keep my job, but I will be talked about, ridiculed, and discriminated against.

There is still a terrible stigma against mental illness in this country.  When I tell people I have bipolar disorder, I can see them tense up and the look of fear in their eyes.  People in America see mental illness as a psychopath killing people.  When in fact, I am more likely to hurt myself than someone else.  What about that German pilot who crashed a plane load of people into a mountain?  He was an aberration.  Most of us don't think that way.  In every case, whether it be race, religion, political affiliation, or gender, there is always someone to give the group a bad name.

One in four people are touched by mental illness. Which one are you?  Is it you? The person you're standing next to or a relative?  Everybody knows someone with a mental illness.  The question is this. Is the illness being treated?  

Getting treatment, if you can afford it is difficult.  Some doctors are booked for months in advanced.  The shortest time I've ever had to wait was six weeks.  However, you do something drastic like attempt suicide, you get in right away.  It shouldn't be that way.  How can someone look me square in the face and tell me the next available appointment is six weeks when my life is hanging on the line.  It's simply too much to bear.  Don't you know that is is usually at the end of the rope when someone finally calls to get help.  

The guilt and shame of mental illness is very hard to carry. I felt like a burden to my family, embarrassed to my friends.  I was treated with compassion at some jobs, but they never trusted me with anything major for fear it would stress me out.  That just made the anxiety and depression worse.  Top that off with the medical bills and you've got a volcano ready to erupt.  And it did erupt.  I haven't worked since 2010.  I want to but I simply can't.  I haven't got the attention span, the concentration and the organization skills to deal with working.  I can do something for two hours, tops.  I don't know about your boss, but I don't think anyone is looking for a person who needs a fifteen to twenty minute break every two hours.  

While it's true I am back in college, I am only taking two courses a semester and most of them are on line, so I can get work done at pretty much my own pace.  But you should see me writing papers and taking tests.  I am freaking out here!!  Gone are the days of large classes.  I'd rather not be in a classroom if I can help it.  At this point, I'm probably older that the professor, and the kids get on my nerves. 

Even if you can get to see a doctor, the drugs prescribed are outrageously expensive.  During one hospital stay, I was on a drug that did wonders for me.  I mean, I felt terrific.  But when I tried to fill it, I was told the co-pay was $400!!!! That was for a 30 day supply.  I simply couldn't afford it, and went back to my regular psychiatrist to see what other options I have.  Fortunately, what I am on now is not that expensive.  Usually, the newer the drug, the more it cost.  And the older the drug, the more side-effects.  One of the drugs that I am taking now has warnings all over it for liver damage.  So, I made an appointment with my family doctor to get a liver screening done, so we have a baseline.  

If I don't die from smoking, which I am still trying to quit, the drugs treating the bipolar will kill me.  The liver and kidneys can only take so much.  After all I've put mine through, plus I have type 2 diabetes, I have a feeling that something is going to shut down on me.  

So, in a nutshell if you see me, and I say I'm fine. Don't believe it. I'm FINE, not okay.  If I say I'm doing OK, then everything is going pretty well.  Pay attention to the symptoms, not the words.  Don't patronize or try and make light of the situation. And for goodness sake, don't say "snap out of it".  That's just ignorant bull shit. On that note, I'll say goodnight.  Peace. Love. Joy.

Bev

Am I High Maintenance?

I like to think that I am a simple girl, of simple means.  I don't I require too much.  The first thing I look in a person is his teeth.  It's a turn off to see someone with broken blackened teeth.  I can't imagine kissing a person like that.  I know I may be overlooking someone who has a wonderful heart, but still,  I can't be with someone who has a nasty smile.  

The second thing I look at is the eyes.  Are they warm and inviting of conversation, or are they cold and distant?  I don't think it's asking too much of the person with whom I am speaking to look me in the eye. 

Other than that, I don't think I'm too hard to please.  I'm only 5'3" so it shouldn't be hard to find someone taller than me.  I would like him to be employed, hopefully with a well paying job.  If not well paying, at least have good benefits.  I know that I am on disability right now, and probably shouldn't say anything about it.  But the fact is this, I can be broke all by myself.  I don't need a lot of money, but jeepers, have something!

I would like him to be fairly good-looking.  His body does not have to be perfect, goodness knows mine is not. Nor does he have to have a head of full and luxurious hair.  I have become attracted to bald men.  He could have dreadlocks too, I like that. 

I like simple things. I prefer silver to gold, daisies to roses, and walks in the woods as opposed to expensive getaways.  I prefer to stay home and read a good book than go to the club.  I have never been comfortable in clubs.  The music was fine, but it always looked to me that people were trying to force themselves to have a good time. I like watching movies and old TV shows.  For example, I like I Love Lucy, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and the Jeffersons.  My favorite game show is Family Feud.  I think Steve Harvey is hilarious.  But I used to watch it when it first came out, when Richard Dawson was the host.  I have DVDs of Doris Day movies, a couple of Astaire, and Marilyn Monroe movies.  I also have all the episodes of the Flintstones.  I watch football, golf, and tennis.  I can't stand the squeaking in basketball, and never understood the thrill of baseball. 

I like sitting in the sand with the sun on my face.  I like walking along the rivers edge.  I love rain storms, and snow storms.  I guess I just enjoy doing things that encourage cuddling.  Other interests include a love of animals.  I know how to groom a horse and cut a dog's nails. I like to write. I have a few journals. All of them are half full, because I put it away, then forget where I put it.

I am not the woman for a man who likes stiletto heels.  I was in a car accident that broke my right leg and ankle in several places.  I have plates, pins and screws holding everything together.  Me in heels is not pretty.  I'd rather wear my sneakers with Snoopy and Woodstock on them anyway. They're way cuter than any high heel.  I wear sweaters and sweatshirts, don't show a lot of cleavage, and my hair is cut short.  I can grow it out, but who has the time for all that? 

So, to answer my own question, I am not high maintenance. I just need someone who needs me, and will make me a priority in his life after Christ.  Oh, and just to mention, I do like diamonds but I like my birthstone better, it's a peridot.  Love, Joy, Peace

Bev

Token

I have always been the token black girl in almost every situation that I encountered.  What does that mean? Basically, I've always been the only black in the room.  I was in integrated classes until high school.  In high school, I was often the only black in my class.  I was ostracized by my own race. 

I was told from early childhood that I acted and talked like a white girl.  I still to this day do not no what that means.  I guess it's because I didn't talk in the local black dialect of the blacks in my town.

I grew up in a blended neighborhood.  When I was little most of my friends were black. But then for some reason that I still do not know, they turned on me.  I was bullied to the point that they were spitting on my door. I at one point thought they were trying to kill me. This is another piece of the puzzle that contributed to my sense of guilt, shame and loneliness. 

So I went outside of my neighborhood, just a few blocks away really.  I met a couple of new girlfriends.  All were white.  I went over their houses, they never came over to mine.  But still, I didn't mind.  I just wanted someone to play with.  The black kids in my neighborhood then accused me of trying to be white.  What did that mean!?  I really don't know.  It's not like I took to wearing different clothes or fixing my hair differently.  I was just being myself.  Again, this contributed to my lack of self worth.  

I had to suffer with this inner racial segregation all through elementary school.  I wish I knew what I did or said to make the others treat me that way.  But it was what it was.  By the time I got to middle school, all my friends were white.  I hung out with them, went on sleepovers with them, and ate lunch with them.  The black kids seemed to hate me even more.  I hated them right back.  I could not help the way I talked, walked and dressed.  It was not my fault that I didn't know the current slang, or sway my hips.  I don't have much of a butt to begin with, so how was I supposed to sway.  I had good posture and got good grades.

It was in high school where I really became the token. I was the only black in ALL of my classes.  The white kids liked me a lot. A few even said that I didn't act or sound black.  That seemed to provide them with some sense of relief. You see, call me ignorant but I still have no idea of how a black person is supposed to talk or act.  If it's like the people of the inner cities, or low income people that I see on the news, then no I don't talk or act like them.  I have even developed my own dislike of black people.  I don't trust a group of young black men any more than a white woman would.  The difference is, I don't cross the street.  I walk by and smile and say hello.  I do know this much about black people, we have an unwritten code of conduct which includes acknowledgement of each other. I have never been accosted by a group of black men, they just smile back and say "how you doin'?"

My singular representation of blacks followed me to college, where I was one of two in our class.  Contrary to what other people thought, we did not become instant friends.  We did not show signs of solidarity.  She was an individual unknown to me, plus we were in different dorms. Should we have sought each other out?  In hindsight, that probably would have been a good idea.  At least then I wouldn't have to explain my hair to anyone. My room mate in college had never actually met a black person before.  We had started writing to each other before school started.  It was an effort to get to know each other better before school started.  We exchange pictures, and she was surprised to learn that I was black and proceeded to tell me why.  She lived in an Irish neighborhood in the city, and blacks simply didn't go there. 

I still represent black people everywhere today.  I am catholic. I go to a an predominately white church.  I think I've seen three other blacks there.  I just assume they are because they have brown skin, they could be Latino.  At any rate, I took a look around at mass tonight and thought, here I am again, the only black in the room.  When we get to the part in the mass where we wish each other peace, I can honestly say I was never met with hostility.  I am greeted with enthusiasm. It is the same with job interviews. I have a mini interview on the phone.  When I go to the office for the official interview, the human resource person seems so happy to see me. I have caught a couple of double takes.  I always get jobs I apply for, because I am black, a woman, and can speak well.  I fulfill two of the requirements for diversity being a black, and being a woman.  The ability to carry on an intelligent conversation is just a bonus. 

Sometimes, I get tired of being the token black.  Sometimes, I wish there were other black people that are exactly like me.  I'm sure they are out there, I just don't see them hanging around the library.  I suppose I should widen my scope.  I have two other black people in one of my classes, but they are in their early twenties.  Quite frankly, twenty year olds annoy me.  I want to find some black people my own age, who are smart, well-spoken and share similar beliefs.  I have no idea what to do.  

You'll notice that I refer to myself as black, not African-American.  I at no time in my life or for that matter any of my earlier ancestors lived on the continent of Africa.  I am an American.  I happen to be black, so if you must label me, please just say that I am black.  Thank you, I just wanted to get that off my chest. If anyone reading this can relate, please comment.  As the only black in the room, I need all the help I can get.

Bev

Please Like Me

I am and always have been a people pleaser.  It's what my brain has been wired to do.  I've had people who loved me, but I always wanted more.  After the betrayal of my molestation there was a great deal of shame and guilt. I thought I must have done something wrong to deserve this. I was dirty and unlovable.
Then, there was my mother's own mental illness that I thought was my fault. If only I had been prettier; if only I had long hair; if only I wasn't fat. There are too many if onlys to mention. So, I decided, or rather my way of thinking became warped to the point of believing that it was my job to make everyone happy.  I figured if everyone else felt good, I would feel good. I excelled in school, I ran for student government, was in the chorus, but it wasn't enough.  I still felt like I could do better.
I became a perfectionist.  Either it was done right, in the way I looked at it, or it was all wrong. I wanted everything to be just right. My room was always clean, and I did my best to keep up with the trends of the times. I began to think that if I looked like a great person, then everyone would like me. I started doing things for my family, like doing the dishes or my own laundry. But I did it in secret. I was mortified if anyone acknowledged my efforts.
The odor of desperation clung to me. When I went to high school, I would sit with whoever would have me.  The black kids didn't like me, because I talked like a white girl.  The smokers and stoners wouldn't have me, because I was too goody goody for them. The jocks didn't like me because I didn't play any of their sports.
Finally, I sat with the white kids that I had classes with.  They were a nice crowd. All of them smart, and never quite fitting in. They always talked on the phone and hung out together, but not me. I was hardly ever invited out. So, I stayed in my room and did my homework, or watched TV.  I read a lot. I went to the library so much that the librarian sent me a graduation card!
I didn't mind it so much, being the token black. At least I had people to eat lunch with. I think you have to try extra hard to be liked when your black. There is a sense of mistrust among different people that says blacks are not smart, they are violent and all they do is cause trouble.  I was different.  I knew how to dress, how to speak, how to gain respect and give respect. I guess tat makes me an "uncle tom".
I was never bitter tough, just lonely.  It goes on to this day. No matter how I try to engage, the more I disconnect into a dream world where everyone likes me.  This dream state can last for days.  The more I dreamt, the less lonely I was, and I had friends it that world. I was cool.
I'm still a people pleaser. I do things for other people all the time. I do not want or expect acknowledgement. I just try to be a good person. Some people take advantage of me, but most don't. They say your true friends will be there in the darkness to lead you out into the light. But I don't have too many friends like that.
All I want is 2 or 3 girlfriends that I can talk to on the phone, go to lunch, go shopping or watch movies with. It's not that hard to be my friend. You just have to know a few things about me. Like when I am shutting down, it's nothing personal, I just need to be alone for a while.
Being friends with a person who has bipolar can be difficult. All we really want is a hug and someone to tell us it's going to be okay.  The mood changes are hard to deal with and some people refuse to see your illness for what it is. Snap out of it, or don't be so sad. Stupid thing like that which don't help a person in the midst of depression. I think most people like the mania part, where we are high energy, talkative, overspend and get hyper sexual. But it all has to come crashing down at some point. Your true friends will be there to help you pick up the pieces, but those who were just along for the ride are long gone..
I still want to be liked, only it's not so overwhelming. I am finally at a place where I am at peace being alone. And that's okay. We are all okay.

Dreams

Maybe Dreams isn't a good title for this post. Maybe it should have been goals. Anyway, I think I'll leave it as it stands. It's about what I wanted to be when I was younger. I look at my high school yearbook picture, and I think "what a pretty girl, so young, so innocent, her eyes filled with hope for the future." I think of it now, and just shake my head. I wish I knew then what I know now. If I could go back in time with my 50 year old wisdom and 16 year old dreams I would. Who wouldn't? For a lot of my dreams it's too late. Remember, I didn't think I'd live past 45. But, I'm still here, and I'm still trying to figure out my life.
When I was 8 years old, I decided that I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to be an OB/GYN. I thought of nothing else but bringing babies into the world. I had declared it and it gave my parents a lot of joy. It came with the knowledge that I would be the first one on my father's side of the family to go to college. That was a lot of pressure on a young person, but I took it on myself to make it come true.
I excelled at school. All of my classes were advanced classes. All except math. I didn't care to much for math. I finally figured it out in algebra. Don't think about so hard, just plug in the formulas and let the numbers do what they may. From then on, I got straight A's. I graduated with honors, was inducted into the National Honor Society, and was recognized by the Natiional Merit Foundation as an Outstanding Negro Student. There was a press release in the paper and everything. I was on my way.
I got accepted to Wellsley, but didn't go because I didn't get enough scholarship money or student loans to cover it. It is a regret that carry to this day.
I went to Immaculata University where I was a pre-med major. I did great with all my classes the first year, but the bipolar reared it's ugly head in the middle of my sophomore year. So, came home and never went back. I stayed in the house for 6 months. That was one dream down. So, what to do?
I got a job as a bank teller, and was doing okay, until I found a better offer paying claims for an insurance company. It was fun because I got to use the medical jargon I had learned in anatomy class. I did pretty well, made a best friend, and generally liked my job. Then my parents were splitting up and I was caught in the middle, so I ran. All the way to Washington state. My sister who was married to a Navy man was station up there. I called her from work, bawling my eyes out asking her if I could come live with her, her husband and daughter. She checked it all out and told me I could come.
I packed up all my belongings in my car and made the trek from Pennsylvania to Washington. It took a week, but it was the best trip of my life. It broke my mother' heart that I left, but I had to get away.
I got a job with another insurance company, discovered Starbucks vanilla lattes. I met a couple of men who used me like toilet paper, but I moved on. Then another depression hit and and I locked my self in my tiny apartment for eight weeks. I had to go to the hospital. It didn't help, all they did was fill me up with drugs. I spent 4 years at tat job and had to take 2 leaves of absence for that job.
My sister then informed me that her husband had been transferred to Georgia. I tried to find an apartment in the city where I worked but it was a bust. Another dream down.
So I down to Georgia, for a job just across the state line in Jacksonville. I got my own place and lived there happily for 5 years. Then the bipolar kicked in with a vengeance and this time the employer wasn't so kind. After 2 cycles of mania and an explosion of depression I left that job and went back. to Pennsylvania. I met a few guys, but all they wanted was sex. So, our affairs lasted 3 months tops. My dreams of marriage ad family started to fade.
I had always picture my life ask having a nice guy and four beautiful boys. That dream is over. But I am going back to school to get my bachelor's degree. So that dream was delayed. Hopefully, more of my dreams will come true. I can only hope and pray, but that is enough for now.

Bev