Sciatica is the worst pain anyone can experience. If only you could have seen me go through the excruciating pain. I screamed and cried for love and affection from the person who caused this domestic injury, and I received nothing in return. I created my own demons and became possessed thinking someone was after me. I’m honestly talking about admitting myself into mental hospitals more than four times and being rolled around in a wheelchair because trying to walk a distance was even more painful. I told myself I would never go back into a mental hospital. Since I experienced my first crisis in 2011 and overdosed on my antidepressant pills because of flashbacks of being in a sister in a predominantly white sorority. All I wanted was all the money I spent back. When a person causes damage, the person who causes the damage should give compensation.
However, I’m not writing this article to talk bad about mental hospitals. They are actually pretty good. Although I feel as though I should have never been forced to take medication if I did not want to. All I needed was group therapy and for my family and close friends to show that they really loved me and to listen to me. After all, dealing with the pain of being a foster care child starting when I was 14 was the worst case of my life. But I have benefited from that and decided to further my aspirations as a college student. College was fun when I started in 2009, and I went through the pain trying to sustain being on my own. Over the years, I decided to pack my bags and transfer because I could not handle the pressure of being terminated from my sorority. I lost a lot of friendships, but I gained a lot of friendships.
I decided to come back to Rowan in the fall of 2014. I realized that Rowan University was the school my godfather said I would benefit from. I was so happy during my high school days that I would make the ultimate decision to move to South Jersey. I loved being closer to my dad, and he was very supportive during my freshman year. He always came to my leadership conferences to hear me and other students speak. I eventually left school once again in the spring of 2015 because I could not handle being diagnosed with Sciatica. I was also trying to maintain a relationship with a man who went through some of the same things I went through in my early childhood. All I can remember is me sitting down in a chair at the table in JFK West Cherry Hill Hospital dialing his number. I was crying so hard and I left numerous messages telling him that it was important for him to come and see me. I got no response from him. All I wanted to say was, “Why did you hit me so hard? I didn’t deserve to be treated like shit!”
I became so angry, scared, frustrated, and I hated that the doctor put me on medication. If I refused it, I would have received the ten second penalty of an injection. So I just took the medication and suffered the consequences of having an allergic reaction. I am glad there were Rowan University alumni students and workers who uplifted and encouraged me to go back to school while I was in the hospital. When I was discharged, I kept trying to get in touch with the man who had caused this injury. The next thing you know, I was calling the police to escort me to the hospital once again from the sciatic pain. I called my big brother and the Reverend to come and get me. I thought no one really understood what was going on with me.
Then, BOOM. I was on that Northeast Corridor Line Train from Trenton to New York City. I was going to Wall St. with red and white sweatpants on, a T-shirt, my favorite pair of J’s (Jordans) on my feet, and a plastic bag with extra clothes. I walked around Union Square from 1:00p.m.-2:00a.m. and waited anxiously for Mr. Money Maker to arrive in a Limo or a big black truck, so I could tell him what he did to me that night, four days after my birthday. I would have ran down Wall St. like Forest Gump to stand in a position just like Ronda Rousey. I wondered what the substantial independent Wall St. men and women would say about my situation. I was tired, and he never showed up because he was out of the country on a business trip. I became so paranoid and anxious, at that moment I forgot where I lived. I remember NYPD escorted me to a homeless shelter in Brooklyn but I decided to leave and go to another one. It did not serve me any good, so of course I admitted myself in the hospital once again and called my brother in Christ to come and rescue me. I was just petrified and I wanted the man of my college dreams to cater to me since he caused the pain.
I learned my lesson especially after receiving that email from Mr. Money Maker stating for me to never call him again. Mr. Money Maker’s employees lied and said that I had harassed them. All Mr. Money Maker cared about was his business, and he did not care to ask me if I was ok or if I needed help with anything. So I just leave it in God’s hand because a Domestic Violence case is not easy to handle and I don’t have any money for a lawyer. It has been a struggle, but I am happier now. It’s 2016 and I have grown tremendously. I go out with new fun and entertaining guys now, and I try to hang out with my girlfriends more often, instead of isolating myself because of what I went through in the past year. God has my back and so do my doctors, family and best friends.
Originally posted on http://africanqueenashleyoliver1.tumblr.com/