Rebel's Hop-Bob Marley
Poignant words from my idol and once former "brother", Bob Marley. Wow, I truly could not have been more farther away from reality than those months spent in a bi-polar whatever it is you want to call it. Basically, I was truly insane. And the more distant I get today from this time I broke down, the more it fascinates me than scares me like it first did. Because when I came too, I could not believe everything that I had consumed myself with during that period. All the things my brain had made up and had me doing that I really believed. It was frightening and overwhelming all that took place that I have the memory of doing. I truly had no responsibilty to absolutleness. Everything that I had going on in my tiny piece of existence was all fucked up. And it was big. I really truly believed my name was Tina Marley Royal. I had a whole story to back it up. How I was both a product of the Rastafarian culture and the British Royal family. So much so, I could speak like a Jamaican, write Reggae music, and believe I was bred like an aristocrat all complete with a British accent if I needed it. This wrapped me up into one bad ass Rebel, or so I had thought.
Because that is what I did. I rebbelled against everything that my past was forcing me to come to terms with. They told me when I got diagnosed that my post traumatic stress was a factor in why I went nuts. And I sometimes wonder why it is that I remember everything that happened in my breakdown. This is usually not normal for patients to recall every detail of a psychosis mania, not even that it happened at all, typically. Yet, I did. And I wrote through it. I pretty much can recall most of it. I don't have all my writings becasue I'd throw a lot of stuff away during that time, but I have enough. A friend of mine might even have a few letters too, if he has not burned them along with everything else I gave him. I think I had about 20 reggae lyrics that I wrote (this is just about 10% of what I wrote). When I say I wrote them, I did and they were incredible. I could talk like a rastafarian. Don't ask me how, I have never been to Jamaica. Even though she claimed she had. What happened a lot is that I'd wake up in the middle of the night and have a song to get out. So, I'd grab my phone and write them on the notes page. I did this all the time. Then I got in to rapping next. They were pretty good too. When I'd write, it was as if Bob Marley were with me, along with Peter Tosh and anyone else. Though I lost my songs when I threw my phone in the trash. And then lost them again with my next phone when I did the same thing. I would love to get my hands on those writings.
I share a lot with whoever is reading this blog. I do because I am not trying to be bravado about being this crazy woman for a few months, I do it because it is amazing that it happened. I feel I must share it because maybe it happened or is happening to someone else. I am careful not to use terms like rape, molestation, abuse, and that sort of stuff on here because I think, that's rough. No one wants to hear about that shit. Especially me because this is what this girl was hoping to forget. So, instead she came up with a whole fabrication of stuff how to escape from remembering it and about 7 bad ass black brothers to help her. That's what she did. She rebbelled against her past. There are so many details how she did it. It would take a whole book to go through each one too. That's how intense it got. But she was brave. This girl was so fucking brave. And somehow she stayed alive. And then again after when she came too and knew it was going to take a lot more than a few reggae sounds and forgetting reality for awhile to do it. See, no matter how fucked up we get, our past does not forget us. And I am living proof of that.
So, I don't write reggae anymore. I kind of miss that. Maybe I will try it again. Though if you see me acting a little off, please reach out. I pushed a lot of people away during this time. I had never broke down and no one had ever seen me acting like this before nor knew that I had this disease. No one knew what to do with me. And I just kept acting crazy. But now you know. I had to stop listening to Bob Marley for awhile when I got out of the hell I was living in. A lot of his CD's (and a few other of my favorite artists) I threw out my door this one day into the snow, back then in crazy town, and they are gone. But I saved a few. A lof of my favorite music carried messages in them and I kept getting confused about so I'd get rid of anything I felt harmed me. That's the stuff a demented person does. Though day by day I am getting stronger. I just was able to listen to my favorite Beastie Boys again. Don't get me started on what I thought they were up too. But, I am coming back. People are noticing that I am getting back on my feet now. I hear people telling me they can really see a change And it is true. I am feeling really good again. I am still a rebel. I always will be, it's part of my naturally captivating personality. I am still one of Bob Marley's biggest fans. I still Rebel Hop through life. I am still living.
Thanks for reading my blog. Love, Tina