I am not Crazy. I am just Touched by life’s Filthy and Unapologetic hands.

All my life I have heard the word ” Crazy” attached to my name from one family member to another. From a co-worker to a boss and from people I cared about to the father of my two beloved souls. As I grew up that word grew silently into the core of my being and I believed that I was truly insane, bat shit crazy and deranged. Up until now. I have a new out look on that word and how it pertains to me and other souls like myself. Before I continue with my thought. Please allow us a moment to exam the word in its self and how Websters Dictionary defines the word ” Crazy”.

The adjective for the word “Crazy” is as followed; 1.mentally deranged, especially as manifested in a wild or aggressive way.”Stella went crazy and assaulted a visitor”

The synonyms are as followed:mad, insane, out of one’s mind, deranged, demented, crazed, lunatic, unbalanced, unhinged, unstable, disturbed, distracted, mad as a hatter, mad as a March hare, stark mad, off one’s head, out of one’s head, off one’s nut, nutty, nutty as a fruitcake, off one’s rocker, not (quite) right in the head, round the bend, raving mad, stark staring/raving mad, bats, batty, bonkers, cuckoo, loopy, loony, bananas, loco, dippy, screwy, with a screw loose, touched, gaga, doolally, up the pole, not all there, off the wall, out to lunch, not right upstairs and one that is not right in the head,

Now let’s exam the word the other word people call me which is insane. What defines a person to be called or referred to as insane? The answer is as followed; mental illness of such a severe nature that a person cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, cannot conduct her/his affairs due to psychosis, or is subject to uncontrollable impulsive behavior. Insanity is distinguished from low intelligence or mental deficiency due to age or injury.

Now that we got that out of the way. Let me speak my peace on this subject. As a young child my first experience of knowing that I was different was at an elementary school conference in which a teacher suggest to my father I needed medication to sit still and focus. My father being of African American decent was highly offended . He believe there was nothing a wooping at home couldn’t cure. He also didn’t believe in black people seeking any outside help, taking medication or talking to a therapist . So he said no and my school career went south from there. The next time I was presented with another moment that something wasn’t quit right is when my mother put me into the hospital for thirty days to get me evaluated for mental illness at the age of eleven.

That is the first Time I heard the word “Bipolar” in my life. From that moment on I dismissed it after I got out and went on about my life as normal. Two decades later I was getting myself check out for mental illness and that infamous word rose from the dead again and I heard; Yes you have Bipolar one, Depression, PTSD, Anxiety and ADHD too. I finally had a reason for what I had been experiencing all my life. I finally understood why I was having rapid mood swings, angry bouts, repressed memories, sexual escapades, deep bouts of depression and swinging high on the Mania spectrum. I was relieved that there was a reason why I was acting the way I was.

So against my fathers wishes I started therapy, taking medication on and off and learning about my mental illness too. This was an eye awaken moment for me fore sure. However recently I started hearing the word ” Crazy ” being attached to my name again by my last Boyfriend. I was so offended that I started to feeling like I needed to see why people viewed me in that manner but before I did that I ran and hid from my mental illness once again for the last year. I stopped taking my medication and tried to act like what I considered to be ” normal” ( Being normal is so mundane and overrated if you ask me. I was looking at another definition of “Crazy “that some what fits me. According to Merriam Webster Dictionary ” Crazy” means ” full of cracks and flaws. Not mentally sound; marked by thoughts or actions that lacks reason; insane sense. Being out of the ordinary. I am eccentric and out of the ordinary for sure.( lol ) I am also full of flaws and cracks by life but who isn’t? However; I don’t lack action , thought or reasoning unless I am in a manic phase or in deep depression but not in my everyday life.

The reason why that word plagues me is because of context behind the word sounds so bad. I think all of us are touched by some kind of mentally illness; whether we believe or not. As for me I don’t want to look like I am Crazy in the bad sense of the word. I do however like to be seen as odd, eccentric, different, strange and out of the ordinary because I am and I love being this. I don’t however like when people feel like they can call me Crazy in the fit of an argument, rage or when someone is trying to be condescending and mean spirited to me. There was a time when hearing someone call me that brought a flood of tears to my mind and they cascaded ever so slowly from my eyes like a slow and steady leak from a leaky faucet pipe . I felt disrespected and like I was not made whole in some way. It always made me feel indifferent in my thinking.

I started dating a young man that I spoke of earlier and just like all of the other men I dated; eventually at some point of time he called me crazy too. After a while it became a routine to hear him say that to me over and over again. It felt like I was watching the same movie stuck on one part always in reverse. In beginning I cried; then over time I started to embrace it. As crazy as it sounds. I figured I must be crazy after all because everyone that I came into contact with called me that. Around this time I stopped taking my medication again. I told myself that I really didn’t need it; if after all; I am naturally crazy. I hated taking my medication anyways at this point . It made me feel like a walking zombie in a world that resembled The Wizard of Oz”. I was living in a magical world full of color, beauty and splendor yet I was not able to interact in my world because I felt like a dull, colorless zombie bit by my Ablify Bipolar medication who zapped my energy and kept me on the sidelines of life. I hated how the medication took my ” Four course meal” of an sexual appetite and swapped it with lap band. If you don’t know what a Lap ban is ; it is an inflatable silicone band that’s surgically placed around the top of the stomach to limit its ability to expand. It physically restricts the amount of food you can eat before feeling full, so you eat less and lose weight over time. Well in so many words It did just that. It physically restricted the amount of sex I usually enjoy and over time I lost total interest in sex as a whole.

So there I was enjoying being call crazy, enjoying my extreme highs and hating my lows. I was full of color as I walked in to the Emerald city wearing the most beautiful shear colored Emerald dress made just for me by me. I felt on top of the world. At least so I thought; that is until my lows started coming more frequently and spending more time in my mind than normal. After my last bout of depression I restarted taking my medication against my boyfriends wishes. Oh how he loved the wild sex, the endless conversations and all the color I brought to his life but he hated the depression, the lows, arguing and being overly emotionally at the drop of a dime. This is when I started doing some inner work. I started looking at the word ” Crazy” and why I felt the way I did about it. I started looking at Bipolar in a new and different way. Not in the way of how I felt but how I made others feel when I was rapid cycling, depressed or in a manic phase and how I empacted them emotionally, physically and mentally too. I started Reading more about my mental illnesses and watching documentaries about Bipolar people in their interpersonal relationships with friends, family and spouses and how it looks and feels like to them dating a person like me or being a sister, mother, daughter or friend to me.

I remember crying after watching them. I felt humanly bad for putting the people I love through so much mental anguish. I didn’t know that is what I looked like or sounded like. I instantly called everyone I loved and apologized for my actions that I knew would reappear and disappear without warning again. Next I started looking at the way I view my medication and therapy . I loved my Therapist. Mrs. Tammy was the only person in the world who truly knew my inner workings and never judged me . ( Even though I know that is a required part of her job) But she was different , authentic and genuine even. She made me look at my life, thoughts, reasons and more for what they where and not what I thought it was. She really helped me become a better person to myself. It is between her and my boyfriend that I started to take charge of my mental illness once and for all. She always said ” I am not Bipolar; I have Bipolar symptoms but that isn’t who I am.” It was a just a small part of me that made up who I was with all of the other amazing things that made me : “me” . As for my boyfriend; I decided that was the last person who would send me home crying again after calling me crazy. I took a stand that day and acknowledged to everyone in m y life on and off line that didn’t know I was dealing with Bipolar, ADHD, panic Attacks, Anxiety and PTSD too.

At first I was so ashamed and embarrassed to admit to others that I was so flawed mentally. Then I felt like others would look at me differently or view me in a manner that was unbecoming of me personally. As I became more and more accepting of my illness I started becoming happier with myself. I started a Facebook page called ” The Rantings of an Eccentric mind”. It is a place where I share my thoughts, my struggles with life, single parenting , my mental illness, parenting tips, videos about different mental disorders and funny memes about them too. Next I started my blog on Word press and I felt so free. Now if some one calls me crazy . I just sit back and have a hardy belly laugh from deep within my gut. The bottom line is that I was not born this way. I was made this way over time. I am not Crazy in the whole sense of the word but crazy in some sense of the word. I am however touched by life. I have been touched mentally by people that I trusted and loved who hurt me, abused me, molested me, raped me or beat me and mentally and emotionally abused me as well.

Over time I developed different personalities that helped me get through my pain. I had Kai that was the strong one; who never took shit from anyone. is the one that helps me stay on point with my bills, life and other tough shit back then and to this day. I have Mystic that is young and innocent that keeps that part of me happy, whimsical, jovial and keeps my child like wonder alive. Even though she was the persona that was `hurt, molested, raped and abused by her family members. Sunshine is just that . The personality that is full of love , light, peace and joy. She keeps me optimistic, happy and full of faith no matter what life looks like to my naked eye. I love and need them all . We are all one who makes up Kidada Kendrick.

It’s as if my mind shattered into 4-5 different parts to protect me from all the pain I was enduring from my childhood and teenage years. I love them for that and I love my mind and brain for compartmentalizing, hiding, and protecting me from myself and others. If it wasn’t for my mind doing what it did. I wouldn’t be here today writing about it. I could have been dead, a drug addicted, a child molester, a prostitute, all four or worst but instead I am a phenomenal mother, a great human being, a loving, compassionate, empathic and caring soul that advocates for men, women and children that has been abused in any way . People forget why they are being hurtful and why people are the way they are.

If my father didn’t scream and shout at me all the time loud noises, loud voices or loud sounds wouldn’t make me so jumpy and scared of others who talk to me in the same way.. I hate confrontation because of the same reasons too. I became passive aggressive because of this. My father was mentally , physically and emotionally abusive. Over time I became used to the physically abuse. I thought that he loved me and that’s why he did that to me. Every relationship I have been in has treated me like my father because that is all I knew and all I was accustom to it too. My abnormal was my normal. At one pointed I wondered if a man loved me if he wasn’t jealous, overbearing, threating, abusive and loud like my father. If a man didn’t do those things, I would provoke him to be. Once I started to see this in myself. I started doing some hardcore inner work.

I am not crazy. I am scared, unsure, abused and treated like I was a dumb rag doll for men’s enjoyment. I am not crazy I am a person that has flaws and cracks in her mind because of nasty minded human beings put them there not because they aren’t self inflicted by me. I wouldn’t be so overly emotional in certain areas and not in others if I saw my parent display healthy emotions or even if they displayed emotions at all. They were both so matter factly or emotionally unavailable to show me how to handle my own emotions because they couldn’t handle their own. My father was also abusive to my mother too. She high tailed it and left him and moved to California and sent us back to the same man that abused her when I was two years old.

If my father didn’t put me on a plane decades later (to the same mom in California who abandoned me decades earlier) when he couldn’t handle me and she left me there in LAX for a week without coming to get me. When they finally reached her by phone she told the police ‘ If you bring her here she will be leaving in a body bag”. They had no other choice but to put me in a foster home and a group home and award me the state of Florida. if That didn’t happen to me and so much more ; I wouldn’t have abandonment and stability issue now. I wouldn’t be sabotaging every single relationship I have been in or holding on to every unhealthy relationship I have been in just so someone would not leave me even if I know that I should be leaving them.

Everything that has happened to me has made me into the women I am today. It has also inspired my mental illness as well. Even though my mom’s side of the family has a history of severe mental illness. So I was prone to be on the receiving end of it by the laws of nature but my abuse , pain and struggles sped them up in my opinion . I am not Crazy. I am touched by life’s dirty hands and dark shadows that lurked under the cloak of darkness. From all of the hands that touched my innocent body, hurt my innocent body, beat my innocent body, torchuered my innocent soul, mind and spirit. I am a product of my environment, a product of my dysfunctional family and upbringing and a product of hereditary mental illness.

I am not crazy … Just touched by life. There is a differences; so please stop calling me that and start calling me brave, a warrior, a solider, a phoenix rising out of the burn ashes. I am doing the best I can with the hand that life dealt me. I am not Crazy in the bad sense of the word. I am crazy in the good sense of the word. I am odd, eccentric, different, original and unordinary. Please use that word ” CRAZY” sparingly with others in your life too. You never know what they are going through , have been through and what has made them appear crazy in your eyes today. To all the people that foolishly called me crazy. I just wanted you to know that I am not crazy. I was just unfairly touched by lifes’s filthy hands.

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