Age 19, Calhoun, Georgia, USA
I was full of many emotions. Not just your regular teenage emotions, either. Later, I would be diagnosed with Bipolar. But at nineteen, my mental illness, though present, was unidentified.
I distinctly remember this one occasion where I was supposed to perform with my sign language group at church. But unfortunately, the week before I’d broken my wrist, which obviously meant that I wasn’t going to be able to perform. Our leader, Annie, had given the church secretary a list of names to put in their bulletin. When I saw the list for “Hands of Faith,” my name was left out. Obviously, Annie didn’t include me because I wasn’t performing. But I took it as a slight, like I wasn’t even part of the group. I went to find Annie and just tore into her.
I was emotional and illogical and just said whatever I was thinking. I regret that moment to this day. I am ashamed of the way I acted. I hope Annie doesn’t remember me for THAT moment. This experience taught me to not let my emotions dictate my words.