Defying the Verdict Read online

  During our courtship, Oscar attended many services at Calvary, prayed with individual saints and preached on several occasions. He also directed the choir for our anniversary service in May.

  Joining two lives, Oscar and I had to discuss and negotiate belief systems. Like traditional Catholics, Oscar did not believe in the use of birth control. Members of his church married without wedding rings as did the members of Calvary Church in Baltimore. I was willing to follow those teachings, with plans to wear Oscar down until he bought me a ring. There was no scriptural support for the no-jewelry clause to which he adhered. Penny bought me a plastic ring that I kept, reminding me of the band which was to come.

  As part of his commitment of his body to God, Oscar did not go to doctors. His belief in faith healing had taken root as a teenager when his younger brother accidently shot him in the leg while hunting. Oscar’s father—and Bible teacher—was willing to take him to the hospital to have the bullet removed, but he decided against medical intervention. He chose to walk in faith, leaving the bullet in his leg and suffered no complications. When I looked at his calf, there was an entry wound, but no exit wound.

  Unlike many members of Church of the Lord Jesus Christ at that time, Oscar had decided going to a doctor is a personal decision. He shared with me that when Mary’s condition was worsening, he encouraged her to see a doctor, but she decided against it. As for me, I took medication to offset the biochemical imbalance in my brain. Continuing to take lithium was non-negotiable. Oscar agreed I should follow the regimen that was keeping me healthy.

  Three weeks before our wedding, I met with my psychiatrist to get a new prescription and to discuss pregnancy risks for women taking lithium. He informed me that lithium could damage a baby’s heart during the first trimester of pregnancy. If I became pregnant I would have to suspend lithium use under psychiatric supervision.

  I shared my doctor’s assessment with Oscar. The thought of going off medication frightened me. Plus, Oscar did not sanction the use of birth control under any circumstances. He believed his strong faith and love would sustain us through a pregnancy. He promised, “I’ll be your medicine.”

  Unsure as to whether or not I would go through with the marriage, I decided to pray. I remembered God had directed me to forego my trip to Paris in 1979 where I would have suffered my first significant hypomanic episode.

  I explained my dilemma to Elder Hickey, Jo Ann and my pre-marital counselors, asking for prayerful support rather than advice.

  Convinced in my spirit that I could suspend lithium use for a short time during pregnancy, I let Oscar know we would go through with the marriage.

  Elder Hickey and I had our final therapy session at the end of May. Believing my union with Oscar would be mutually beneficial, he agreed to deliver the prayer of Invocation at our wedding. Elder Hickey noted that I had gone through this cycle of therapy without transference or regression, which he considered an unusual feat. Many people who enter therapy rely on their therapist as a savior and improve in a peaks and valleys projection. I already had a God and was so determined to get well that I improved without plateauing.

  We reviewed the growth areas I had been most resistant to in February 1987:

  1)Moving and acting on faith

  2)Confrontation with authority figures, primarily my dad, and

  3)Committed non-platonic relationships.

  I was now doing well in each category. Additionally, I had rid myself of the torment that accompanies the fear of relapse. I accepted the Biblical truth that rather than the spirit of fear, God had given me a sound mind. I would take my medicine, pray, and keep my stress levels down. In situations where emotions flared, I’d have to keep calm or walk away.

  My counselor and I revisited my tendency to want to think of myself as less than others because of my illness. I had to remind myself that as a human being, I was no better or worse than anybody else.

  Before our final prayer together, Elder Hickey first praised me for the courage I displayed in destroying my box, then reminded me I was marrying a man who understood love and knew how to express it. He reminded me I had said, “This relationship is what I deserve.” Establishing eye contact with me, my insightful therapist advised, “Trust Oscar, and talk to him non-defensively.”

  On Saturday, June 3, 1989, we rehearsed for the wedding. Although we didn’t repeat the vows, we listened as the pastor read them aloud. I was terrified. After the rehearsal, I approached my pastor, wide-eyed, babbling about my inability to commit to a marriage. He smiled and stated, “You’re marrying Oscar next week.”

  Karen hosted a luncheon for the bridal party and our parents after the rehearsal. I distributed gifts and thanked the members of the bridal party for their love and support. After Oscar and I were alone, I had a problem to address with him concerning his mother. She absented herself from the day’s activities. When I asked, “Honey, where’s your mother?” He told me she wasn’t coming. Not only had she missed the rehearsal, she was not planning to attend our wedding. I was livid. When I spent Memorial Day weekend at her home, she was very nice to me, as usual, never giving any indication of her true feelings concerning my marriage to her son.

  My initial thought was, What is wrong with her? Even his first wife’s sister approves of this union and of me. I took a moment to reign in my emotions, but still blurted out, “If she doesn’t come, she will never have access to any child I have.” Recognizing this as an over-the-top reaction, I conceded to Oscar I wouldn’t do that.

  Then I lashed into him.

  “Why did you let me put your mother’s name on our wedding invitations, knowing she was opposed to our union. Now our invitation is tainted by a lie.” To calm me down, Oscar explained he had been certain he could convince his mother to attend. He had been wrong. In an attempt to appease me, he shared his mother’s belief that “you really love me.” Oscar’s sister Gloria was the sole member of his immediate family or congregation who was present for the ceremony.

  Mother Brown later told me she felt the timing was not right for Oscar to marry. No animosity was directed at me, “You were caught in the crossfire.” To which I replied, “If you die in the crossfire, are you any less dead?” In time, with mutual effort, we were able to develop a loving rapport, as evidenced by the absence of knots in my stomach when we spent time together.

  This family’s reaction underscored how misunderstood mental illness is for the general population. It seems to hold an even greater stigma among African-Americans and fundamentalist Christians. My victory was being able to withstand opposition without feeling like a lesser person. I was going to claim my gift from God: Oscar William Brown, Jr.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “To have and to hold from this day forward . . . ”

  —TRADITIONAL CHRISTIAN WEDDING VOW

  BEFORE OUR WEDDING day, Oscar promised to love me more than any individual person could. I believed in that love. When he remained in our relationship, against the advice of most of his family, I knew Oscar Brown, Jr. was committed to building a life with me.

  Our marriage ceremony was attended by my loyal supporters. My sisters served as bridesmaids. My closest friends sat at the front of the church, wearing corsages along with Mama and Aunt Nellie. My father escorted me down the center aisle of the church to the altar where Oscar was waiting. My brothers, Uncle Vernon, my cousin Lela and Marion Dixon were present as well. Looking at my support team, I was reminded that their love had carried me through precarious times.

  Although manias mortified me, while I scampered through them, I was having a splendid time. At those times my team protected me from myself. They further protected me when I was despondent, standing in the gap between me and suicidal thoughts through their prayers, presence, and faith.

  Like others given bipolar diagnoses, I had days when I thought, what’s the use? Those were the days when I felt like the molasses I slogged through was sure to suffocate me. Then, amidst all the turmoil that had become my life, I lea
rned to surround myself with love—from God and the people who cared enough about me to cheer me through to triumph.

  am grateful my parents taught my sibling group how to function as a unit when we were children.

  AFTERWORD

  “Those who do not have power over the story that dominates their lives, the power to retell it, rethink it, deconstruct it, joke about it and change it as times change are truly powerless because they cannot think new thoughts.”

  —SALMAN RUSHDIE

  ON NOVEMBER 20, 1991, my husband Oscar William Brown, Jr. died at age 40. We had been married two and a half years and were parenting nineteen-month-old Liana and six-month-old Anita. I felt abandoned for the first time.

  A month after the funeral, the girls and I moved to my childhood home on Finney Avenue at my parents’ insistence. My family and closest friends feared I might be facing an insurmountable stressor and braced for the relapse, which never occurred.

  After a year spent trapped in an emotional haze of grief, I forced myself to assess my condition. I concluded, Oscar is dead, not me. Then I prayerfully devised a plan. The girls and I moved into our own home near my parents. I earned an accelerated master’s degree in early childhood education and found employment as a teacher.

  I have raised the girls with support from my Cole and Brown families and close friends. Liana earned a bachelor’s degree in 2012. Anita is progressing toward her bachelor’s degree.

  The Cole siblings have designed an assisted living system that will allow our elderly parents to remain in their own home as long as possible. I serve as care manager for our endeavor.

  Having reassessed my life, I discovered I am not the failure I thought I might become after hearing the death knell in that therapist’s office in 1982.

  I defied the verdict.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Besides my family of origin, I have been blessed to parent two phenomenally supportive women, Liana and Anita Brown. I also appreciate the in-laws, aunts, nieces, nephews, and cousins who have encouraged me to tell my story.

  I am grateful that When Words Count Retreat exists in Vermont. Steven and Neile Eisner provided much-needed encouragement as I completed the book and went on to win the retreat’s Book Deal competition. The prize was this book’s publication. I appreciate the judges, Marilyn Atlas, Ben Tanzer, Meryl Moss and Catherine Marenghi and send love to my fellow contestants from Pitch Week V.

  I appreciate my publisher at Curbside Splendor Publishing, competition judge Victor D. Giron. I was fortunate to have Joshua Bohnsack edit this manuscript. Josh, you pushed me to share my emotionally difficult story in a way that makes sense to readers who haven’t shared my cultural experiences.

  Thank you, Marie White-Small and Peggy Moran for ably editing early drafts of the manuscript.

  Thank you, Anne Greene and Lis Harris for encouraging me to write this story when I attended the Wesleyan Writers Conference with a manuscript idea.

  Thank you, James Astrachan for safeguarding my intellectual property.

  Thank you, Valerie Cole-James, Veda Pendleton, Liana Brown, Elizabeth Lopez and Felipe Cabrera for reading the manuscript and providing invaluable feedback.

  Thank you early endorsers: Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison, Dr. Cassandra Joubert, Mimi Baird, Andrea M. Cole, Nana-Ama Danquah and Dr. Diane Pomerantz.

  Thank you for prayerful and/or financial support: Elder Bruce Edwards, Sr. and the congregation at Apostolic Church of Jesus Christ (Glen Burnie, MD,) Allen and Jo Ann Russell, Desiree Barnes, Gloria Penny Mullings, Lela Richardson, Latisha Jackson, Michelle Edwards, Regina Foreman, Tony and Wendy Baysmore, Gwendolyn Williams, Lida Bates, Ellen R. Berhane, Bruk and Amara Berhane, Shanee Johnson, Kenneth Greif, Leslie Ries, Michael and Brandon King, Adam Turnage III, Delores Johnson and my loving sisters at Bible Study Fellowship (Lutherville, MD).

  And . . . much love always to my niece, Camryn D. Little, who reminds us all that we CAN get up, because we are NOT defeated!

  CHARITA COLE BROWN earned a BA in English from Wesleyan University and an MAT in Early Childhood Education from Towson University in Maryland. She is now retired and lives in Baltimore with her two daughters.