This is the story of how I lost my voice. Continue reading
Most of my friends and family know I have a fear of driving, especially on the highway. I didn’t always have this fear. It manifested over several years, worsening to the point that I gave up my car. The tragedy of Sandra Bland once again reminds that even during the most routine situations — driving — safety is an illusion if you’re black and in America. And it is knowing that safety is an illusion — especially when behind the wheel of a car — that is at the root of my fears. I wrote about this for The Root Thursday. Continue reading
Monday for The Root, I wrote a piece about my personal struggle with mental illness for Mental Health Awareness Month. For my piece, I focused on learning to accept my diagnosis after I was “outed” as mentally ill by an internet troll. Who strangely wanted to take credit for me being hospitalized. So weird. Continue reading
A few years ago I came to accept something most of my friends and family already know about me — I’m obtuse. I don’t notice what’s going on around me because I live deep in my head, lost in thoughts, lost in my own frustrations and pain, ambitions and proclivities. Even though I possess the ability and tools to be observant, I can easily turn that off, as if it had a switch, and become lost to my inner visions. Continue reading
My name is Danielle Belton and I am Bipolar. But don’t worry. I don’t introduce myself in person that way. Continue reading
Two weeks ago I wrote about my annoying search for a psychiatrist to help me maintain my mental stability and, lordy be, I found one. Hopefully they won’t be an indifferent schmuck (I’ve had a lot of experience with those), but at this point I don’t care. Continue reading
Part of my zeal for rejoining the world of employment — besides wanting to fight racial in justice while getting paid a living wage — was that I could finally afford to go to doctors and dentists again. As soon as my insurance kicked in, I began booking long put off appointments left and right. And I was successful with most. I was able to retain my old OB/GYN, who was still as nice and blunt as ever. I found a primary care physician (or so I thought). And I made a long overdue dental appointment. But what has been, by far, the hardest nut to crack, the thing I needed more than anything, was finding a psychiatrist.