I have an untold story about me, #hamiltonmusical , @Lin_Manuel, my book, and the giant @leslieodomjr. I dont tell the story because it feels unreal to me and I experienced it.
I think, ahead of #HamiltonFilm , now is as good a time as any to tell it.

So here's my #hamiltonmusical story:

I was a fan of @Lin_Manuel because I loved LOVED In The Heights. It's one of my favorite musicals and I thought, like the rest of the world, that Lin is immensely talented. I remember when The Obama White House did the Poetry Jam.

As a former Def Poet and I was wickedly jealous when I wasn't invited--- but that's neither here nor there-- I saw the clip of the early version of Alexander Hamilton. I thought it was weird but still a fan.

Fast forward a few years. I'm in Nigeria. I'd spent the last three years, off and on, in Lagos trying to get some work stuff off the ground. It didn't go well. I failed miserably and, though I didn't know at the time, I was numbingly depressed.

I can't remember how or when I first heard of #hamiltonmusical but I know I was in either Lagos or Nairobi. I couldn't get it on itunes until I was back in the US (I think. Don't quote me. Wrote a whole book about how my memory does what it wants when I'm in a depressive episode)

Fast forward a few months, I'm back in the States. I am completely broken. My depression had reached what felt like the point of no return. I was done.
Again, I'm not sure when I got the cast album but I know I didn't listen to it for awhile.

The first time I heard it, I remember thinking this is fucking amazing. But y'all already know that. What got me was the story. I remember wondering if Alexander Hamilton had bipolar disorder. Everything about the way Lin wrote him felt like the hypomanic episodes I experience.

I know it was my mind creating something to attach to but it really hit me in the chest. True to my own hypomania, I became obsessed with the show. I listened to the album on repeat all day every day. I was having a mixed episode so the depression and hypomania were present.

Back up: A mixed episode, for me, is when both the symptoms of depression and the symptoms of hypomania are present at the same time.
It is the most physically and emotionally uncomfortable feeling you can imagine. I can't even articulate it but I did write a book about it.

As my depression progressed, it got to the point where the only thing I could do was lie in bed and listen to the album every day and all day. I would always get to Wait For It and I'd cry until I was empty. @leslieodomjr's voice became a praise song.

It entered my bones and lived there. It was the little bit of hope I could hold onto. @Lin_Manuel's lyrics. "We laugh and we cry and we break
And we make our mistakes." spoke so directly to the depression and failure I was feeling.

Alexander's frantic need to create a legacy and live a life worth remembering- and all the highs and lows he faced-- mirrored mine to an embarrassing degree.

I'm actually getting a little self-conscious about telling this story. It feels like weirdo behavior.

Trigger warning:

During this time, I'd also decided that I didn't want to live anymore. I was really attached to this idea of, "Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?" I wanted to tell my story so that it would live on without me.

This is part of the story I tell in interviews:
I was writing a book but it was full of lies. The book I was writing then was not the book you read. The first book was a lie at the same time, I was writing goodbye letters to my friends and family.

I was inspired by @Lin_Manuel to write the story. To make sure that when I was gone, people would understand how much I tried to be okay and normal. I wrote to tell them the story of where I'd been and how much work it had been to stay alive. I wrote so they could feel what I was

I didn't want anyone who loved me to walk away thinking that they could have saved me. I wanted them to know that I tried. That's what I was writing but that wasn't the book.
This entire time I'm writing these notes and letters, my depression is getting worse.
It's 2016.

I didn't know how much time I had left. I was aiming for they day after my 40th birthday but I really didn't know if I could make it.
I was so done.

After a point, I stopped playing the entire album and only had Wait For It on repeat. It was a prayer.

I would lie in bed and cry and listen to Wait For It doing my best to listen. Doing my best to tell myself that I had some time. I just need to wait for it. I had that song set as my alarm. I wasn't sleeping so the alarm would always be jarring. I needed that.

I don't tell this story because it just feels so corny but it's so true.

I had promised my family I would try so I upped my meds, I saw my therapist four/five times a week. I was trying but I was also writing those goodbyes.
One day, I couldn't do it anymore. I was tired.

I was lying in bed, just staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how I was going to do this. I was thinking about Erica Kennedy and Siwe Monsanto and Phyllis Hyman. Then the alarm goes off:

@leslieodomjr:
Death doesn't discriminate
Between the sinners and the saints
It takes and it takes and it takes
And we keep living anyway.
We rise and we fall and we break
And we make our mistakes.
And if there's a reason I'm still alive
When everyone who loves me has died

"I'm willing to wait for it."
I just started crying and crying and crying.

I decided that maybe I had one more day in me. I was also texting friends and saying good bye but I had one more day in me. Then two and then three but I still had August 4th on the horizon.

During this time, I'm tweeting manically about the show. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of tweets a day (it felt like). I felt like the crazy person I was but it was what I needed to hold on a bit.

I was tweeting jokes and shit but I was falling apart. I was tweeting the cast. I must have come off like a lunatic. I'm actually cringing at the thought now.

One day, I tweeted and @'d @leslieodomjr. He responded. I know what he said because I screenshot that shit. it made my day.
Then he started following me and I was like, "I'm sorry. Pardon. Why???"

Now here's where it gets...

This part, I don't remember much at all (see again: depression memory and my book available where books are sold).
I was still deeply depressed and still didn't know how long I was going to be around.

I never even thought seeing the show was possible because it was already a juggernaut at this point.

BUT THEN

One day, out of the blue, @leslieodomjr DM's me and asks if I wanted to see the show.

I don't want to get in the whole conversation but this man, the star of the biggest show in the history of Broadway, knew who I was because Def Poetry AND ASKED ME IF I WANTED TO SEE THE SHOW.

He told me to just let him know the date in advance.

I'm gobsmacked.

But guess what? I told my brain, "Bitch, we gotta stay alive until AT LEAST January."
I think that was about two months away-- again, me and time are barely acquainted.

During this, I was thinking, okay, so... what are we going to do with our life? I thought we were done.

I forgot to mention that I was also watching interviews that @Lin_Manuel was doing about #hamiltonmusical and how he wrote it.

I got really inspired to revisit the book and really REALLY write it. I mean, I had two months of life to do before I saw Hamilton.

I wasn't out of the woods but Leslie had gifted me some time.
I still had the goodbye letters and started incorporating those into what I was writing. I wrote like I was running out of time.

I told you this was corny.

I finally made it to January. I went to see Hamilton with my friend @PatrikIanPolk. We were in the back back because even the star of the show couldn't really be handing out tickets like that. I saw the first half in the back. I was still mesmerized. It was everything and more.

But then...Intermission happens...

And this college age girl comes up to me and says, "Hey, my friend got stuck in traffic and I have an extra ticket. Do you want it?"

I didn't want to leave PIP but he was like, "Bitch, if you don't go."

I don't know theatre words but those tickets were AMAZING. I was dead center, just a few rows from the stage. I could see the performers spit.
It was incredible.

Of course I cried. Me and this stranger just held each other and wept.

After the show, I messaged Leslie just to say hello and thank you and maybe I could give him this gift I had for him. He said, "Come backstage."

I'M SORRY WHAT??

This part of the story isn’t important but here are some pictures:

More pictures

I have a million photos and videos. The cast was amazing and sweet and Leslie is giant.

Now, it would be amazing to say that this cured my depression and then I went on to become a New York Times Bestseller.

That didn't happen.
I was still in a depression.
In some of the photos, you can see a bald spot because my hair was falling out. I was in a bad way.

So, not cured, took me almost a year to get to healthy place but #hamilton was part of that process for me. It got me to a place where saving my own life meant something. I was inspired by Lin but also by the story he told of Alexander Hamilton.

I know it's historically inaccurate. I know that the "founding Fathers" were scumbags. I know. I know. I know.

But Hamilton the musical will always hold a special place in my heart because it fucking helped save me. I wouldn't have written this book without it.

I don't know if I would even be here if it wasn't for @leslieodomjr on multiple levels.
Also, I was manic as fuck and would leave long ass messages in his DMs. Not once did he make me feel crazy or not okay. He took it in stride.
I will always ride for that man.

He is one of the best humans we have.
He is unbearably talented but he is a magnificent person.

I have nothing but love for him.

I'm leaving a lot out because this is long as fuck. Plus, again, memory.

Also, the other thing was a friend of mine got me tickets to see Bruno Mars so that bought me another six months.

I just wanted to mention that part too.

So yeah, @ReignOfApril, that's my long ass story of how Hamilton musical and Leslie Odom Jr saved my god damn fucking life and inspired me to write the book that I did.

The end.

Oh also, July is BIPOC Mental Health Month.

July 13th is #NOSHAMEDAY follow @TheSiweProject here and on IG for more information.

Thank you!

I'm so bad at this.
If you want to know more about my book, I'M TELLING THE TRUTH BUT I'M LYING, you can buy it here: https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062698346/im-telling-the-truth-but-im-lying/