Page 56 of This Side of Beautiful

“In about ten minutes. We’ll walk you straight in, and you’ll come forward once you’re introduced and do your spiel raising money for a good cause. Then, afterward, we want to take pictures.”

My stomach felt so queasy, and I kept my hands clasped to control the trembling. I nodded, telling myself that this would be done within an hour. I hadn’t told Del that I planned to announce my diagnosis publicly. Tonight would be my special announcement, because word would spread more quickly through social media than if I got word to the press myself.

The audience of about two hundred and fifty donors sitting at white linen-covered tables clapped and howled as I walked to the podium after the chair of the local chapter of Atlanta had so graciously introduced me. While I was waiting to speak, a ginger ale soothed the nausea, and breath control calmed my nerves. Standing before the diverse group, I reminded myself to just be me.

“Thank you, Linda, for that wonderful introduction.” Turning back to the audience, I chuckled. “I was standing out there nervous, wishing I was sitting with you and watching someone else speak. I don’t think I realized how intimidating it can be to speak in front of this many people when I’ve performed in front of thousands more. Maybe I need to sing my words to relax.”

The audience laughed, and one person shouted, “Go ahead and sing.”

“I want to make my time here with you short and to the point, and y’all know if I sing, we gonna be here all night. I know you’re anxious to let loose and dance the rest of the evening. I hear the DJ is amazing.”

A few more chuckles and nods encouraged me to confess before I lost the nerve, gaining more confidence from the attentive group.

“I am a relatively new supporter of the Allies and Support for Mental Illness. I was impressed by their advocacy work and all that they do for people with mental health diagnoses and the people who love them over the years. But I didn’t even know of ASMI’s existence until I was diagnosed with bipolar three years ago.”

The room grew quiet.

“No one knew tonight that I was going to make this announcement, and most people don’t know that I have bipolar. Now, I know that in ASMI’s name is ‘illness,’ and I finally understand why we want to keep saying ‘illness’ so that society can take us as seriously as all physical diseases, like sickle cell anemia and high blood pressure. This organization has done so much in advocating for people like me to be heard, treated, and respected for their challenges.” The more I spoke, the more the words tumbled freely.

“I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a ton of bricks, though I didn’t have a hangover. I started crying uncontrollably while starting a fight with someone who cares about me. I’ve been fighting the blues for a long time. I believed I was sick, which is technically the definition of ill. Yet, somehow, claiming I have a mental illness is a struggle that doesn’t feel right in my soul. Maybe it doesn’t feel right because of how society views people like me, or because I want desperately to have control of my moods and thoughts.”

Some nodded.

“This morning, I was in New Orleans with no idea that by the time my night ended, I would be in Atlanta speaking in front of you and announcing to the world for the first time that most of my struggles are because of a chemical imbalance.” I scanned the room. “I’d rather call what I’m dealing with a challenge, if you will, to living my life. Now, I don’t know your religious or spiritual beliefs, so I hope I’m not offending anyone as I tell you my testimony. Earlier today, I cried to God, asking him why I suffered with this affliction. Why is my life so unfair? Why do I have to go through so much sadness and pain, and it’s not even my fault?” I gripped the podium.

More heads nodded, and tears glistened in some people’s eyes.

“And the more the anger and despair churned in my head, the more I became determined to speak before you. Tonight, I only ask God to continue to give me the strength to persevere and embrace all that is me. To truly accept that there will be good and bad days. The sun and clouds. To help me believe that no matter how dark it gets, the light is on the way.” My chest swelled with pride that I was on this stage, baring my soul and taking control of my diagnosis and my life.

The audience clapped their approval.

“This decision to be before you today could be considered impulsive, and at the basic level, it is. But it’s definitely one of the best impulsive decisions I’ve made. Standing before you, telling you a private truth, is freeing in ways I can’t possibly describe. I can walk out of this event tonight with my head held higher than it has been in a very long time, if ever.

“From this day forward, I will use my platform to advocate for people living with bipolar and other mental health challenges.” I smiled. “I want to be the voice for people who don’t have one or for those whose voices are constantly shut down. I want people to know that they no longer have to handle all that it means to live with a mental health challenge alone. I hope tonight you dig deep into those pockets and donate to the largest grassroots mental health organization so that they can continue providing resources and services to the nation. So that we can continue erasing this horrible stigma associated with mental health.”

I scanned the audience and noticed a familiar hat, and my heart thudded painfully against my chest. Landon stood at the very back of the hall with his hands in his pockets, and he positively glowed when our eyes connected. He nodded approvingly, and the freedom I’d already experienced by speaking honestly with this group became an exhilarating high.

While grinning at him, I announced, “I’ll start with a personal donation of twenty-five thousand, and I’ll make sure my brothers in The Hollow Bones will match my donation.”

Landon shook his head ruefully, although his smile never faltered.

I concluded, “Thank you all for being supporters, and I thank you for listening.”

The crowd clapped loudly, and most stood up for me.

This was a new first on several levels. I’d received a standing ovation for talking in front of a room full of people about my diagnosis and had friends in the audience supporting me. I waved and walked off the stage with a newfound energy that I was finally starting to matter outside my talent.

The chapter president shook my hand as she walked back behind the podium to close out the program. People had already started gathering around me to take pics and request autographs. Frankie and Jeri congratulated and hugged me. I searched past the crowd of well-wishers for Landon, but he’d disappeared.

My happiness deflated like a recently released balloon. I’d thought he would stay around to congratulate me, and maybe we could’ve hung out. Then again, I’d told him I didn’t want to be with him this morning, and maybe he was simply honoring my wishes. I hated allowing my negative emotions to overrule what I wanted, which was him.

Over the past month, Landon had become a constant in my life, and I missed him already. What if he agreed that only being friends was best?

I kept a smile on my face for the cameras, wondering if I could bear the next two months being in such close quarters with a man who’d seemed to accept my diagnosis and whom I wanted so much.

More than three hours later, with no texts or calls from Landon, I’d just settled in my room after dinner with the ladies, who’d decided to join The Hollow Bones at their club appearance. I probably could have gone with them and sought out Landon. I just didn’t want to pursue him or any man anymore. It was exhausting, and I needed to focus on adjusting to my diagnosis while pursuing my career again anyway. I’d done something monumental tonight, and I’d diminished that accomplishment by focusing on a man. I’d spent most of the last three years alone and without a man. I could do it again and do my best to allow Landon to be the friend he’d originally wanted to be.

If he still wanted that role. Although from the way he couldn’t stop gawking at me in the elevator, he definitely wanted me.Ugh.I hated that my thoughts or perceptions, even if they were inaccurate,seemedso real.

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