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My Chemical Imbalance
My Chemical Imbalance
My Chemical Imbalance
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My Chemical Imbalance

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Thirty-two-year-old Rihanna Perry has the job, son, and husband of her dreams. But her world is torn apart when her husband leaves her for another woman. After the combination of the breakup and a major surgery, Rihanna’s mood changes from the way it used to be: she’s never been happier in her life. Soon she’s staying up all night, flirting with men and women (even at work), smoking weed, and starting writing projects she doesn’t finish. On top of everything else, Rihanna discovers that telepathy is real, and attempts to learn the skill of reading minds for the first time.

Rihanna won’t accept that her long ago diagnosis of bipolar disorder has come back to haunt her. After prompting by her best friend, Rihanna finally goes to the local mental hospital for help. She eventually accepts the fact that she’s been suffering from a manic episode. After being put on medication, she barely has a chance to recover from the mania when she’s thrown into the worst depression she’s ever experienced.

Medicine alone doesn’t help, so Rihanna must undergo electroconvulsive therapy and a six-month stay at the state mental hospital. Will she ever be stable again?
LanguageEnglish
PublisherJMS Books LLC
Release dateNov 18, 2020
ISBN9781005510848
My Chemical Imbalance

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    Book preview

    My Chemical Imbalance - Kim Pierce

    Thirteen

    Chapter One

    My life is such a clusterfuck.

    My husband of five years, Jeff, left me and our three-year-old son the day after Christmas. I’d been suffering from extreme endometriosis pain for over a year and didn’t feel like showing much affection to Jeff, let alone having sex. I can be really cold and remote without even trying. By the time I decided to have a hysterectomy in the hopes of ending my pain, Jeff said I’d grown too distant from him. He’d met a woman at work, and left to be with her.

    Three weeks later, just a few days after my hysterectomy, I relaxed on the couch at my best friend Nia’s house. My son, Jeremiah, and hers, Nate, were battling each other, playing the most current version of Just Dance on the Wii. They were so cute together. Jeremiah looked just like Jeff, with wide-set blue eyes and brown hair. Nate was stocky, with dark brown skin and tightly curled black hair. By lucky chance, Nia and I had been pregnant at the same time. I hoped the boys maintained a life-long friendship as Nia and I had.

    Rihanna, do you need anything? Nia asked as she walked into the room.

    No. I’m having fun watching these two and drifting in pain pill euphoria. I tucked my brownish-red hair behind my ears on a green-eyed face that some called cute or pretty, but never hot.

    Girl, I think you’re losing weight, Nia said. She sat the end of the couch and playfully grabbed at my feet. Nia was beautiful. She had dark brown skin, brown, narrow eyes, and always the latest hairstyles worn by pop singers.

    I tried to look out the nearest window. Is it still snowing?

    Yeah. I hope Andre doesn’t get the car stuck again, Nia said. So, will you and Jeremiah really move with us? We’ll rent a bigger house, and the kids will always have each other to play with. It’ll be fun!

    Yeah, I’ll live with you. I can’t pay the bills on my own at my house. Jeff hasn’t said anything about custody or child support. I don’t even know if I want support. But if I live with you I won’t need it.

    Yeah, fuck him anyway.

    As January turned to February, my body slowly recuperated. I kept an eye on the boys as Andre and a couple of his friends moved my small amount of belongings. Jeremiah had more things than I did! I just left Jeff’s stuff there.

    I still remember when it first happened. We were back at Nia’s house grabbing the last of their boxes. Nate and Jeremiah chattered in excitement.

    I hope the boys take care of each other, Andre’s taller friend said telepathically.

    Like brothers, I responded intuitively in my mind.

    Then say it out loud, Andre thought. It only counts if you say it out loud.

    I never said it out loud, though, because I didn’t think I had to. The rest of the move went smoothly, and I pushed that moment out of my mind.

    Two weeks after moving, I returned to work on a rainy day in March. I spent most of my days sitting at a computer, doing data entry for a trucking company in Jamestown, Indiana. I’d worked there for seven years. My supervisor, Jerod Hatch, greeted me with a smile.

    My right hand is back! he said, relief obviously showing on his face. Are you feeling better?

    Better than I have in years.

    You look like you’ve lost a few pounds.

    I nodded. I wasn’t really sure how I was losing weight. But there was no use telling anyone that for some reason my stomach was so riled up that I threw up every morning. I thought it must be some kind of smoker’s cough flare-up. And of course it couldn’t be morning sickness.

    Jerod’s desk was behind mine, so I turned to my desk, which was connected to five other desks forming a rectangle and divided by half-cubicles. I had two co-workers in my department, Rylee and Destiny, and they helped refresh my memory on a few things since I’d been gone. It wasn’t long before I was back in the flow.

     At home, it also wasn’t long before I had to do the final edits on the novel I’d finished a few months before. I’d been published through a small press that sold their books online. I only made enough money once in a while to pay a utility bill or something, but the prestige of seeing my books available on Amazon was what I really lived for. So far I had two books on the market, and the one I needed to edit was book three. It only took me a couple days to email my edits to the publisher. Next I made a list so my best customers—my co-workers—could order the latest Rihanna Perry novel.

    At our new place, my mom showed up frequently to see how Jeremiah and I were doing. It happened again one afternoon, like a radio station trying to tune in through static, or a cell phone signal cutting in and out. Mom was sitting on the couch, the boys were playing Just Dance, and Nia was bragging about my new book. When Nia left the room, Mom stood and picked my first book from its place of honor on the mantle, beside the other books and magazines I’d been published in.

    I’ve read this one, but the print was almost too small to read, Mom said. Then, telepathically: Bitch.

    I shrugged that one off. Surely I’d misunderstood.

    Andre came home from work and joined Nia in the kitchen. Mom was now sitting on the floor with the boys, so I did too. The connection kept coming in and out. I cocked my head to hear. It seemed Mom suddenly knew I was listening.

    It must come with age, she said.

    I realized this was the key, the secret to adulthood that every child wonders about, but no one ever talks about.

    I looked intently at my mom. Did you want to have kids so young?

    Hell no, I wanted to party.

    This was so different from my mom’s outward behavior that I shook it off and concentrated on the boys. Once I got a good signal, all of the telepathy was completely audible, as if the words were spoken right into my ears. But after that moment with Mom the mind-reading stopped again, so I forgot about it.

    Jeff and I came to an agreement with Jeremiah. Every morning I’d spend time with Jeremiah, and since I worked second shift, I would drop him off at Jeff’s on my way to work. The schedule was almost like before we broke up, except Jeremiah would be at different houses…and he’d be presented with Daddy’s mistress. We’d officially

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