*In 2011, I thought I had everything I had ever dreamed of. I was married to a beautiful woman with whom I planned to spend the rest of my life. I earned an MBA from Johns Hopkins University and I was working my way through the bureaucracy at Chicago Public Schools as an administrator. Our son was enrolled in business school at Penn State University. What more could I ask for?
But one morning in the spring of 2012, I got out of bed and fell to my knees. The room started spinning. I felt sick to my stomach as I held my bowels. My training as an Army medic led me to recognize the signs of a stroke. I tried to stand on my feet and my legs gave way. My wife yelled to to our son to dial 911. Their voices seemed to drift in and out as my pain escalated. My life flashed before me as a paramedic hoisted me on his back and carried me down the spiral staircase.
I was rushed to the University of Chicago Medical Center and received morphine to alleviate the pain. I was also given high doses of prednisone to decrease the swelling in my brain. The diagnosis was neurosarcoidosis, a complication of sarcoidosis, in which inflammation occurs in the brain, spinal cord and other areas of the nervous system. There is no known cure, and long-term therapy is often required.
During this time, I had just received a promotion as an executive administrator at the Chicago Public Schools. I had no other choice but to go out on disability. The thought of losing my independence was terrifying as I temporarily lost my ability to walk. Luckily, one of the most esteemed rehabilitative hospitals in the country, Rehabilitative Institute of Chicago (RIC), was located downtown. I spent three weeks of in-patient and several months of out-patient therapy at RIC. Though the institute worked on my physical rehabilitation, the mental and emotional toll was daunting. First, I didn’t recognize myself as I looked in the mirror. The high dosages of prednisone had increased my weight to 200 pounds. Further, I was depressed when I Googled the symptoms of Neurosarcoidosis: confusion, disorientation, vertigo, double vision/loss of vision, and headache. I had experienced all those symptoms and then some. I had to decide whether I was going to fight this disease or give up and let it overwhelm me. I had been a single mother who successfully raised a son, worked full-time, and still matriculated through an MBA program at Johns Hopkins University. I could not imagine that now I was going to settle for being disabled.
In the face of this devastating diagnosis, I experienced an incredible sense of urgency to recreate myself. I asked myself a question that I wasn’t sure I could answer: What was my purpose? Who was I outside of being a mother and a wife? I decided to tell my story, the story of a little girl who became someone no one thought she could become. I wanted to be out and proud to love whomever I chose, freely. I picked up a pen and began to write my first novel, titled Pretty Boy Blue.
The process was cathartic as I reminisced about my childhood. The memories conjured up demons I battled trying to overcome the trauma of sexual child abuse, the wounds of being bullied in high school for being an out lesbian, and the pain of being disowned by my father because of who I chose to love. A calm came over me as I realized that I had overcome obstacles that no one thought I could.
Fast forward to today. I am in the middle of a painful divorce and tasked with recreating myself yet again. I asked God, why me? How strong do you want me to be, God? I prayed and asked God to send me a message that He had heard my cries. I stilled myself to heed His message when it came. One evening that message arrived in a sermon by Bishop T.D. Jakes.
The sermon, The Beauty is in the Brokenness! You are Most Effective When You are Most Broken, helped me to heal and begin walking the path toward another personal transformation. I have never felt this close to God in all my 50 years. Though I was not raised in the church, I have always known that I could always talk to God, but I was ashamed of thinking that my life path was my own and not God’s. Sometimes I laugh to keep from crying. I often think that God is tapping His finger and looking at me, saying, “My child, that is a cute little plan you have but that is not My plan. That is not My will.” Bishop Jakes was right; my heart was broken but with the grace of God, I refused to allow my spirit to be broken.
Bishop Jakes ended the sermon with a story about when he was a young pastor trying to be strong as he led an older congregation. An older gentleman told him, “You are a good man. God is going to use you in a mighty way. But before He uses you, He is going to break your heart into pieces. Thousands of people will be able to get in.” At that moment, when I heard the story, it all made sense. God is breaking me, humbling me for a reason.
I thought of one of my mentors, one of the first adults I came out to. She was my eighth-grade teacher and is now a psychologist. When I told her of the losses I had been experiencing, her answer was firm yet clear. She said, “Allow yourself to grieve the loss and disappointment but don’t stay there. This is not about you! I’ve known you since you were 13 years old. Look at who you’ve become. Everyone cannot go where God is taking you.”
I thought of the many messages I receive each day from women, young and old, who have read my writing. My heart aches when I hear their stories of not being able to love freely due to the religious beliefs of others and being ostracized by their families. They tell me that I am courageous to talk and write about issues that we, as a country, are uncomfortable discussing. I tell them that I don’t feel courageous and yet their encouragement gives me the strength to share our stories, specifically stories of the Black LGBTQ community. If I can inspire just one person who is struggling with their sexuality, then my efforts are not in vain. Being this new person who walks in her truth and shares her journey is part of my recreation process.
Recently, I was asked what I would say to my 18-year-old self. Without hesitation, I would say: Be gentle with yourself. Pray. And never give up, because you will have many opportunities to recreate yourself.
Monika M. Pickett is a veteran of the United States Army. Her debut novel, PRETTY BOY BLUE is available on Amazon. Pickett is an Advocate and Activist for the LGBTQ community. For more information on Monika M. Pickett, please visit, www.MonikaMPickett.com. For other inquiries email [email protected].
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