M. J. Patterson - Coloring the World with Broken Crayons

Copyright 2021 by M.J. Patterson

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Editing of this work completed by Paul Kasselman Cover design created by Azarya Patterson of Wavy-A Artz Studio

Cover layout created by Lynward Hunter Jr. Photo provided by Xavier Patterson of Skipfrom41 Productions
ISBN: 978-1-7366316-4-5 (e-book)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, I give my thanks and praises to God Almighty for blessing me with the ability to complete this work. Without Him, none of this would be possible.

My deepest gratitude goes to my loving and supportive husband, Jermaine, our two beautiful children, Xavier and Azarya, and our puppy Kobe. You were there to pick up the pieces when I was falling apart. You encouraged me to get back on my feet every time I fell. You supported me through the rough times and helped me celebrate my achievements. I couldnt have done this without you. Thank you my loves. I am extremely grateful to my parents, Sandra and Burleigh, for their love, support, sacrifices, and prayers over the years to ensure I had the best start to my future that they could give me. I would also like to thank my brothers and sisters Angela, Zahana, Kimberly, Jamiyl, Tremayne, LaToya and Antwine, who have been my constant friends throughout my life. A special word of thanks goes to my eldest sister, Angela Townsend-Wilson, who took time out of her busy schedule to be sure that my needs were being taken care of during my time of crisis, and to my little brother Antwine who constantly reminds me how much I am loved. I give my heartfelt thanks to all of you. I am Godly thankful for my Pastors, Lynward and Dora Hunter. Thank you for all of the love, prayers and support during this journey. I would like to thank my support team Kathy, Richard, Tyreasea, Mariame and Brooke. Finally, I would like to give a special thanks to those who have been there to support me in my times of need: Denise Esterlund, Cynthia Fish, Patricia Mayo, Davida and Amoke Wedington, Karen and Rosa Rivera, Michael Selby, Syreeta Scott, Amy Stranges, Kelly Gosik, Kathy Riddle, Allison Russell, Denise Voshell, Lorren, Jeanine, Megan, and Mia. Thank you. I love you all.

The completion of this work could not have been accomplished without the guidance of Mr. Paul Kasselman. It was a privilege and an honor to have him complete the editing of this work for me. He offered invaluable advice and continued to motivate me and inspired me to take my work to the next level. Thank you for your friendship, humor, and knowledge. I couldnt have completed this without you.

Table of Contents

All of Me

I never believed I mattered much to this world. I was too low on the scale of humanity to be of any significance. I had always felt like a tolerated nuisance, even to my family. So many times as a child I wondered if my parents had been given a choice, would they have even picked me to be their daughter. Then in my mind I am crushed by the realization that they most likely wouldnt. I held firmly to my truth that I was not created equal. Then, last year, my life took a dramatic shift; and I found myself on a journey of self-discovery, finally learning who I really am and who I have been pretending to be for over forty years. I realized I was not alone. There were other men and women, young and old, who had struggled with identifying with who they were and their sense of self. I had a story to tell, one that could help people like me. So this is me. My name is Esmene Munroe, nee Turner, a forty-three year old wife and mother of two, who lives in the small South Jersey town of Pennsauken. This is my story. My story is a love story: the story of how an innocent love morphed into a mixed stew of love and hate. Its a story of joy and pain, one full of misguided trust and cruel betrayal. Its the story of how I lost myself in the sea of mental illness and how I found my way to the lighthouse of sanity, still walking in its guiding light in a desperate attempt to save myself. This is a story of survival.

The first signs of my mental instability were evident as early as age nine, when I began to have visual hallucinations, seeing, touching, tasting or smelling things that were not actually there. These visual hallucinations were soon followed by auditory hallucinations. These are the perceptions of hearing voices that are not there. I developed other symptoms over the years which went unchecked, until they could be ignored no further. At the age of thirty, I received a correct diagnosis of Bipolar I Disorder with psychotic features. Bipolar I Disorder, formerly known as Manic-Depressive Disorder, is a mental illness defined by extreme emotional highs (mania) and lows (depression). A manic episode may include symptoms of being abnormally upbeat or wired, increased activity, euphoria, decreased need for sleep, being talkative, having racing thoughts, and poor decision making. A depressive episode may include signs of marked loss of interest in all or many activities, significant weight loss/gain, insomnia or sleeping too much, fatigue or loss of energy, decreased ability to think or concentrate, and suicidal ideation. Suicidal ideation can be passive or active. Passive suicidal ideation occurs when a person wishes he or she were dead or could die, but no plans for suicide have been made. Active suicidal ideation is having the intention to commit suicide, including a plan of how to do it. I should note that bipolar disorder is about eighty-five percent genetic. However, early childhood trauma and other life experiences have been shown to influence who will develop symptoms of bipolar disorder when there is a genetic link.

Its not unusual to be affected by multiple mental disorders or psychological impairments. I was diagnosed with several disorders and/or impairments after receiving my bipolar diagnosis. I was diagnosed with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. C-PTSD is caused by severe ongoing trauma or multiple types of trauma where the victim feels like he or she has no hope of escape. This differs from Post Traumatic Disorder, PTSD, which may be triggered by a brief, one time event such as a car crash. The symptoms of C-PTSD are severe enough to impair everyday functioning. They include visual, somatic, and emotional flashbacks, avoidance of triggers, chronic isolation, nightmares or night terrors, insomnia, severe dissociation, hypervigilance, difficulty with emotional regulation, depression, severe shame and guilt, and a distorted perception of a perpetrator.

I developed a binge eating disorder as a child around the age of nine. I didnt know that I had a disorder and I carried it with me into adulthood. When I was twenty-nine, the effects of all those years of binge eating were taking a toll on my body. I was grossly overweight with high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and high blood sugar. I needed to lose weight. That is how I received my next diagnosis. In my efforts to lose weight, I developed Bulimia Nervosa, an eating disorder characterized by bouts of extreme overeating followed by extreme depression, guilt, and shame. The person who suffers from this engages in some form of purging to undo binge, either via purging which is vomiting, exercising, taking laxatives, or fasting. I am a purger.

So now you are probably wondering, what happened to bring this alphabet soup of mental illness into my life? My journey begins here.

Broken Crayons

One hot summer day, I was at my parents house and my five year-old nephew Carter was there. Carter was the only child of my youngest brother Lyam and his wife Monica. He looked like a miniature Lyam, with his mothers mouth and nose. His little head was covered in a mop of deep chestnut curls that often got him mistaken for a girl, and his honey colored skin was glistening with a hint of sweat. He loved to color and draw; and, like his auntie, he was very meticulous when it came to his work. On that particular day, little Carter had separated himself from the other daycare children and had gone into the living room, where he was able to concentrate on coloring a page from his Marvel Comics coloring book. I sat on the couch and watched Carter as he deliberately colored each character, taking the time to match the colors perfectly from his over crowded box of broken, mixed, and matched crayons. He would use whatever piece of crayon he had until it rubbed down to the very tip of his tiny fingers; and then he would begin his archeological dig through the box to find an exact match, tear the paper off if he needed to, and continue working. Now I knew for a fact that Carter had several brand new boxes of crayons at his disposal, yet he insisted on struggling with this group of misfit crayons.