My Quaint Struggle
From Crisis to Healing – A Chronology of Mental Health.
In June 2013 I went manic. I thought I was destined to have my retrospective at MoMA, that I would become an R&B legend and that I was an actual prophet. I didn’t sleep for four days, sang on open mic every night, and was struck with a vengeful spirit against a former boss that was so strong I was convinced I was going to publish the best revenge story of all time in The New York Times op-ed section.
I cleaned and reorganized everything in my room obsessively for hours, I collected people’s old furniture and trash for a yard sale that I was convinced would be a huge money maker. I took picture after picture of anything circular I found and posted them on Instagram in sets of threes. I told my friends that I was going to get rich and bring them all to the top with me. I was high energy, spewing pearls of wisdom to anyone who would listen. I rocked a du-rag and snap back. People told me I was crazy, but I thought I was a genius.
I was fired from my restaurant job but told my boss I could have gotten her rich and that it was “her loss”. I wasn’t upset because I knew I was better than the job and her – I was a royalty. I thought it was the best day of my life when I was suddenly plucked out of New Paltz by my family and taken back to the city. I checked myself into a psych ward. The security guards and other patients gawked in the waiting room as I danced my ass off for five hours straight listening to my own party mix in headphones, waiting to be admitted.