Mental Health Inspiration

Our Lives are borrowed from God                                                                                                 June 5, 2007 My mother has always told me that our lives are borrowed from God, so we have to live each day as if it is our last. My mom’s words of wisdom didn’t strike me until the day my cell phone rang and my caller ID said “Reynita.” Reynita is really my gay friend Isaac. I call him Reynita because it means queen in Spanish. He calls me Diva. “Hi Reynita!” I answered with joy. It’s always a joy to talk to him. The thing I didn’t know was that joy would only last two seconds. “Hi Mari.” He said. “Did you hear about Andrew?” “No what happened?” I said. “He was shot in Compton.” “What? Oh my God! What hospital is he at? I will be there immediately.” “No Diva.” Isaac said. “He didn’t make it.”                        I felt as if my heart stopped beating and was about to pass out so I just hung up the phone, telling Isaac that I needed time.

The World is Ending!   When I was released from Penn Mar, it took months for me to get stable and once I did, I went back to school and work. I also got a second job at a female clothing store, Bliss Girl Fashions. I wanted to help my mother with the mortgage, but we still struggled financially and we lost our house. My mother couldn’t pay the mortgage by herself because my brother Jacob and my two sisters got married and moved out. It was just me, Junior, and my mom, but Junior and I weren’t financially stable enough to help her. We moved into a rundown ghetto one-bedroom apartment. It had an ugly, green rug, thin walls, and no air conditioner. I kept working hard in the hopes of getting out of that apartment, but I also got off my medication and that only held me back from moving forward. I went to work one evening at Hometown Buffet. It was Thursday—family night. On Thursdays, I’d dress up like our mascot, HT Bee, and pass out balloons to all the children. I’d dance and

The Gate of Heaven     After my dream about heaven and my father, I was blessed with a new inspiration and I went in search of help. I called my mom and I told her that I wasn’t doing well. She talked to Jacob. He said I could move back in so my mom could take care of me. I took the offer quickly. I wanted to be close to my mom. Jacob took me to County USC hospital. He drove me there and dropped me off. I had my backpack full of clothes. I wanted to get admitted in the psychiatric ward, but a doctor needed to evaluate me. It was such a scary, dingy hospital. There were so many people in pain waiting for hours to be seen. It was late night and I could see the sorrow in their tired faces. Some were sleeping on chairs. Others were crowded by the nurses’ station asking, “How much longer?” There were so many people ahead of me and I was frantic for medication. But they wouldn’t see me unless it was an emergency. Couldn’t they see that this was an emergency? What did they need t

Penn Mar was a county mental hospital where they threw people without insurance. In other words, poor people like me and a lot of them were homeless. It was all a routine at Penn Mar, just like college hospital: breakfast time, vitals time, group time, medication time, and cigarette break. I hated it, and the worst part was that I was still delusional. A couple of times during the day, they’d let us go outside for a cigarette break and activity time. I’d go outside and get some fresh air. The only thing was that just as I was inhaling the air of freedom, it was time to go back in. I used to look out at the world through the bars of Penn Mar. I’d watch the cars drive by in the street. I was caged in, looking out at a world that was not ready for me; it was a world that I could never be a part of. I felt so lonely. I thought, “What’s become of me? Why did this happen to me? I’m sitting here alone in a mental hospital. I’m secluded from society. I could never be part of them again.

Breakdown   It was a family decision that I be put in a mental hospital. My family witnessed my odd behavior. They watched my delusional and psychotic self wander around day by day acting completely bizarre. I would walk around singing Christmas songs because I wanted it to be Christmas everyday, simply because Jesus was born on that day. I thought I was the chosen prophet and I was going to save the world. I was also having delusions of grandeur . I was completely psychotic. My family must have been so afraid and I know that they felt completely helpless. I vaguely remember what happened the night my family urged Junior to drive me to a mental hospital. I could barely make sense of the events that led me to that night. The thing that is clear to me is that I was in another world. I was in the world of the insane, but my body was lingering in reality. People saw my body wandering around, but I was a lost child trapped in a make-believe world. There were so many people w

I promised myself after my last suicide attempt that I would never do it again I almost lost my life and now I have learned how to live Sometimes I begin to slip into that dark place In which I isolate, lock myself in my room, cry, scream. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to shower or put on make up It's just me and depression And so two days later and stand tall and say: NO MORE! I REFUSE TO GO BACK TO THAT DARK PLACE! AND SO, I WELCOME THE LIGHT That light is God That light is my soul That light is my mother My sisters My brothers My friends My co-workers Career My dreams My goals The light of tomorrow And so when I begin to welcome the darkness I welcome the light DEPRESSION OUT OF SIGHT! No more! It's over! You will not conquer me! I will destroy you! So let me speak I am a warrior A survivor A soilder Depression will not take the best of me Go away you wicked beast! Live in this beautiful world To my life I will embrace

Lost but Found   I thought, “If my daddy was alive, he would never let men hurt me, use me, or abuse me. He would be my protector, but you know he never even held me in his arms as a newborn baby. God took him to heaven before he even set eyes on me. Is it possible that maybe from heaven he could see that he left a little girl behind? Is it possible that he may know how much I’m hurting?” It’s like I was a child lost in a crowd of people. I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know who to trust. I just stood there innocently and hoped that someone would hold my hand. I wanted to fall into my daddy’s arms. I wanted him to tell me that I was his little girl and he’d keep me safe. “Daddy, protect me. Don’t let go of my hand.” But he was never there to hold my hand and I was lost, lost in a world that would be so cruel to me. I used to cry so much and question the Lord, “Why, God? Why did you take my daddy? It’s not fair. I didn’t even meet him. I’m lost because I didn’t have