No pain, no gain

Still holds true

For biceps and exes

To name just a few

How does it feel

When pain leaves the heart?

A weight off your shoulders,

A race ‘bout to start?

But pain is evidence of life

And why should you be spared?

I know it’s easier to go numb

Than feeling lonely, feeling scared

But let pain come and let it go

For only growth comes after

And transformation can begin

When bitter tears turn into laughter

When I was younger, I was enthusiastic about becoming an adult. I remember accompanying my mother to the stores and appreciating the attractiveness of women, notably those wearing high heels. I couldn’t wait to wear high heels someday, seeing them as a mark of elegance and maturity. However, as I grew older, being a woman quickly became a maze of anxiety and doubts. High heels went from emblems of grace to traps, rendering me too unstable to flee from danger.

I used to love happy meals with colourful boxes and amusing toys, but now every meal feels like a battlefield, with each mouthful swallowing every single thought in my mind.
I used to refrain from applying makeup because I felt desirable without it, but now I pile it on like a cheesecake, with each layer acting as a mask to conceal my actual nature.
As a child, I used to fall asleep at night fantasising about becoming an adult and falling in love, but I soon realised that love is unexpected and frequently chaotic.
The clothing I’m wearing now seems like chains, and I wish I could burn off my skin to relieve the misery.
My lips never feel full enough, my brows never look right, and the scars on my body convey things I’d rather forget.
My small love handles, once a source of innocence, now seem like anchors dragging me down.

Being a woman seems like walking a tightrope, with each step posing the risk of falling.
It’s a dance in a hall of mirrors, and each reflection changes my perception of myself.
I’m always balancing expectations, attempting to come to terms with who I want to be with and who society expects me to be.
My body feels like a battleground, and I’m fatigued from fighting.

The transition from childhood to maturity can be compared to traversing a deserted space, where the illusion of who I believed I would become vanishes with each step. My childhood dreams have faded into shadows under the harsh light of reality. I’m just tired of navigating this maze, where every path appears to lead to a dead end.

Today I have decided to tell my story. I suffer from bipolar. I was diagnosed with the mental disorder over 20 years ago. I have been through alot. It has been a real problem most of my life.
It was triggered after I had my second child. It was a nightmare 😔. I ended up being hospitalized several times over the course of twenty years. I will do my best to explain the horror of it all. I remember having one episode after another. Each episode was very exhausting and dramatic. I would block out a lot of the different personalities and triggers of emotional dynamics. It was so 😫 tiring.
I will try to explain one of my episodes to give you an idea of it all. Well, it all begins with not taking my medication. It slowly turns into a horror movie. I hear voices and act out several different personalities in my mind. I begin to have spells of crying dramatically having thoughts of despair. I was on edge and going down a bottomless pit of not wanting to be here anymore 😪. Yet, in most circumstances I didn’t want to kill myself because an angelic voice told me, ” no” don’t do it! I say, “okay” most times. Smh.
In these drastic times I have family who did help me like my mother. And that was important and fortunate because at these times it is good to have positive support systems in your life.
In most cases my family would call 911 and have a rescue squad come get me. In this case, I can’t stop crying. I wanted to leave! I wanted to go away! My family would say that I was going to the hospital. My main support is my mother. She was always there for me.
Once the ambulance 🚑 arrived I felt like I was in a horrible movie. This has happened to me several times over the years. Yet on this particular case the ENT would come in from the ambulance slowly one my one. They see I’m distraught and incoherent. I don’t know who I was at this point. I’m yelling for no reason and crying for no reason. I can’t understand what is going on. The police also came in…and it got worse. They felt like I would hurt myself or others and so one officer threatened to taze me. I said please don’t..please give me some water to drink. They did.
They slowly calmed me down and then my casemanager came in to also help out.
They asked her several questions to understand why I was like this. She told them that I was bipolar. I am so sick at this point. I have felt supernatural powers around me. I would say, ” I see angels”. They weren’t really visible but a feeling of goodness and calming voices.
So this contributes and adds to my psychotic behavior 🤔. That is what I felt.
I want to tell you the experience of being INSIDE THE AMBULANCE 🚑. Once I get inside the ambulance I felt like i was being ported to an experimental place. I was scared!!!!!This particular personality in me was very informative. I was talking a great deal like I was literally someone else.
One ENT said that he had never seen anything like this before. I finally got to the emergency room. Once there I begin, to yell and bring attention to myself. The police 🚔 officers were staring at me. A guard was placed at the entrance of my room door. I was being watched for over 24 hours. After a while a psychiatric doctor told me I would be admitted to a room in the hospital.
Now, I was on the floor of the psychiatric unit. Once I was in my own room I was in a bed. In some cases I was given medication to help relax me and I would sleep for hours.
So this was a particular bipolar experience. The next day, after being monitored I had to learn and come to appreciate little things again. Showering 🚿, brushing my teeth, wearing a hospital gown, and being served my breakfast lunch and dinner. This was a safe place.
Once I stayed a couple of weeks I was let go. I had a team of supporters around to help me. I had a case worker, a psychiatrist, and medical doctor coming in to see me. I felt much better. This was going to begin to be a part of my life for over 20 years. It is hard. But I will say I’m currently doing ok. So remember you are not alone. Be positive. Find good supporters in your circumstances. I hope this helps someone. Thank you for hearing my story. I am beating bipolar.

I am the girl that can come off a bit clingy
Often scaring those who cross my path.
My thoughts may seem a bit stringy
Coming off to one like a bloodbath.
I will shoot for the stars
Providing those I love with my support.
Depending who looks you can see the scars
This makes some want to abort.
Giving my all with folks that let her through
As they becoming a part of the life.
There are pieces only few knew
I will occasionally show it all within a rife.
No one can tell me who I am
I do not follow a diagram.

Once again//I lay awake,
Light passes through dark stained glass skin,
A mirror, a chisel, a key,
The door behind swings open,
And why should I not have that which I desire?
I trace her steps.
//
My amethyst heart pounds violently as I maneuver through corridors of crystal,
Glassy tears break into marble pieces/my feet don’t bleed from shards,
I stare down at the marble Staircase in the Glass Castle,
Statuesque like meter in the frame,
And it was beautiful.
//
Never more/I fall asleep
The ugly lustre of my body devours the room,
A reflection, a thought, an emotion,
I close the door behind by me,
I know not what I desire when my body desires my mind,
I return to the room.

At my worst, it’s felt like I’ve been swimming through my molasses. The storm has passed, yet fog remained. Echoes blurred the vision of an aimless vagabond.

I cannot see; still, I love my eyes

Dear Tay,

Two disclaimers about this piece before I shoot my shot: actually, three. This is not a letter to Taylor Swift, not a ploy to be your man, and I am not calling you Tay to embarrass you!

So, who am I talking about? Two people, Taylor Rooks and Joy Taylor, both of whom are Black women in sports.

When thinking of these women, I won’t lie, they are very physically attractive and some may claim that this is why they are on TV.

They recently collaborated, co-hosting their podcast called Two Personal. Rooks and Taylor do a great job at their “daily job”(talking about sports) and giving a voice to others to express themselves.

In this joint venture, the duo are unfiltered, authentically highlighting the ups and downs of being a minority, especially in the sports world where being judged for superficial characteristics is the norm.

In the first few episodes, they have discussed topics that are, well… personal.

The episodes have included subjects such as pregnancy.

The theme of each episode is not why I am attracted to it, it’s that my personal takeaway is:

No matter what sport they are covering, the leading story about Tayx2 is not about the work the women do in the sports arena, to me, they portray that being a proud Black woman is what they want people to talk about when the conversation about them starts.

I’ve stated this before: sports was a way for me to hold my emotions in, and yes, you would be pretty hard-pressed to convince me that the final seconds of a game where the 16 seed has a chance to push off the 1 seed from “the dance floor” (March Madness pun) is not more heart-throbbing than when the final rose is given out in the Bachelor series.

But the two can co-exist.

So, thank you Joy and Taylor for showing that talking about the final few seconds of the game does not have to be substituted for talking about the first few seconds of my life. They can be on the same team “dancing” together!

Much Love & Respect,

Jake April

Photo credit: Two Personal Instagram Page

I am a work in progress

Orphan baby that time stole

As I figure out my role

Though sometime just a hot mess

I try to find my true self

Racing time against its toll

Challenging my self control

While maintaining mental health

The haters and the lovers

Inspire my will to thrive

And my desire to stay alive

Lest I dive under the covers

So, in stepping out of bed

I take steps toward my goal

Like a newborn baby foal

To live life outside my head

Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I’m simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I’m black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I’m black said my words, followed by you’re different, they won’t accept you, you don’t fit in
I’m black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It’s so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I’m black, I’m depressed, I’m black, I’m oppressed, I’m black I’m obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I’m black, I’m depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can’t find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it’s because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it’s because I didn’t cry enough to water my heart
I’m black, I’m dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I’m lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there’s a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I’m black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord’s
p.s. let the battle begin