I’m Telling the Truth, but I’m Lying audiobook

Look, I've been reading Bassey Ikpi's work for a smooth ten years, thanks to the Internet. She's been a vital voice for so many of us who live with neurodivergence, throughout our darkest moments, whispering for us to allow ourselves morning. She's even mentioned by name in Freshwater! Now, this book of hers, this collection? It blew me the entire fuck away. It's brilliant, intimate, and so vulnerable! Bassey is a storyteller to her bones and it shows. Read this book, tell everyone you know to read this book, because you have no idea how many people out there need these words.

A powerful story about Nigerian American author Bassey Ikpi’s experiences navigating her newfound Bipolar II diagnosis, as well as the anxiety she faced throughout her life. I most enjoyed this book’s profound honesty, like Ikpi’s initial refusal to accept her diagnosis when she learned about it, how she just could not fathom having to take medication for Bipolar II for the rest of her life. As someone in the mental health field and as someone who has experienced mental illness, I found her sharing so raw and real. While everyone has a unique experience with mental health and mental illness, I suspect that many who have grappled with Bipolar disorder in particular will find some solace and solidarity in I’m Telling the Truth, but I’m Lying. I also appreciate her sharing her journey as a Nigerian American woman, given that the face of mental health in the United States is still so often a white one. There’s a lot of stigma surrounding mental illness in the United States, a stigma that is often heightened for people of color. This book is not a tale of triumph over mental illness, rather, Ikpi gives an honest account into the highs and the lows and how she found some peace within a life turned upside down. Her story serves as a great reminder about how we should always strive for compassion in a society that ridicules and does not put in the effort to understand those with neurodivergence or mental illness. Recommended to those interested in memoir and mental health.

Updated December 9 I loved this book so much I decided to make it a BookOfCinz book club pick. This is a truly moving collection that deserves to be read. I was simply storing up my tears, I would need them later. Somehow I knew this. I am speechless and in tears after reading Bassey Ikpi's I'm Telling the Truth, but I'm Lying . Reading this collection of deeply personal essays was like picking up your best friend's well written diary and getting genuine and utterly vulnerable look into their life. I am blown away by not only well written, utterly beautiful and moving the writing is, but how Ikpi is able to remain honest and real throughout the entire collection. This book takes guts to write, putting your truth out there takes bravery and I remain in awe at the author's courage. I picked up this book because of the snarky title but I didn't know the author or what the book would be about and I am happy I did because I didn't want to prepare myself for how blown away I would be. In this collection of essays Ikpi who suffers from bipolar talks about her life, from childhood when she migrated from Nigeria to the US, to her various relationships and ultimately getting diagnosed with bipolar and detailing what that on-going battle is like for her. It is not every day you pick up a deeply personal collection of essays written by a Nigerian woman that details her battle with bipolar and I was here for all of it. What really took my breath away was when Ikpi's doctor listed the signs of bipolar and all the signs were things she thought of as her personality trait. WOW. Almost all the essays were stand-outs but I particularly loved, Young Girls They Do Get Weary, The Hands That Held Me, Yaka, Like A War, This Is What Happens When, Beauty in Breakdown & It Has a Name These essays hit home for me in so many ways- particularly the exploration of the mother and daughter relationship. That theme was present throughout the book and my heart really went out to the author and her mother because mother-daughter relationships are so freaking hard! When the author say I forgive her always because how can you not forgive someone whose whole life was a sprint towards survival? I felt that!I also really really loved the essay that addresses her relationship with a man who was unwilling to commit and who I felt gaslighted TF out of her. When she said This is what he does. He shows you his hand and makes you feel ashamed for looking at it. my breath left my body- WOW. Overall, a truly moving, deeply personal and beautiful collection of MUST READ essays. WOW!

I've been picking up some books based on Roxane Gay's recommendations recently and damn ... that woman's got taste! I’m Telling the Truth but I’m Lying is a deeply personal collection of essays exploring Nigerian-American author Bassey Ikpi’s experiences navigating Bipolar II and anxiety throughout the course of her life. “I was simply storing up my tears, I would need them later. Somehow I knew this.” Bassey Ikpi was born in Nigeria in 1976. Four years later, she and her mother joined her father in Stillwater, Oklahoma —a move that would be anxiety ridden for any child, but especially for Bassey. Her early years in America would come to be defined by tension: an assimilation further complicated by bipolar II and anxiety that would go undiagnosed for decades. By the time she was in her early twenties, Bassey was a spoken word artist and traveling with HBO's Russell Simmons Def Poetry Jam, channeling her experiences into art. But something wasn’t right—beneath the façade of the confident performer, Bassey’s mental health was in a precipitous decline, culminating in a breakdown that resulted in hospitalization and a diagnosis of Bipolar II.Throughout the book, we watch as she grapples with mental illness, chasing what she considers to be a “normal” life. But time is not linear and memory is not what it purports to be as her mind has found ways to protect her from memories that it perceives to be dangerous. In turn, the same function creates fantastic accounts of what happened. “Anxiety is its own creature. Anxiety asks me to focus on the terrible things I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt. The promises I’ve broken. Anxiety tells me to make a list. Mistakes. Regrets. Lies. A litany of shortcomings, a coil tightened, ready to spring.” Determined to learn from her experiences—and share them with others—Bassey became a mental health advocate and has spent the fourteen years since her diagnosis examining the ways mental health is inextricably intertwined with every facet of ourselves and our lives. Viscerally raw and honest, the result is an exploration of the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of who we are—and the ways, as honest as we try to be, each of these stories can also be a lie.“The problem is that I don’t remember much about my childhood and have only fragments of everything else,” Ikpi writes in “This First Essay Is to Prove to You That I Had a Childhood.” The admission is appreciated, but what matters most to me is Ikpi is able to bring us into her world and capture how the moments she shares with us made her feel. So, while Ikpi is correct in that what she does remember is presented with “stark clarity” in select essays, as far as the details that are scant to her, where they may lack in specifics they make up for in beautiful prose on what life with mental illness looks like in all its facets through powerful stories found throughout her debut book.Her writing style can sometimes be quite overdramatic – “He is the only one I regret being too broken for. If I could have allowed myself to love him, maybe this life would have shaped itself differently. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to wait to break. Maybe I wouldn’t have broken at all. Or fallen. Or maybe he would have caught me. Or maybe I would have destroyed him. I think I would have destroyed him.” – but as a reader you are inclined to indulge her in that regard. After all, it’s how she’s come to survive all of this. Bassey is unflinchingly honest in this essay collection — nothing is off the table. She discusses her childhood and her experience with multiple dissociative episodes. Central to her book’s title — and disconcerting — is the fact that she has fragmented (and sometimes, false) memories of certain life events. “I thought about the way my mind wanders, how I drift through days losing hours, forgetting to remain in my body. How they call me absentminded, forgetful. The way I am mercury spilling over surfaces—solid and liquid, here and not.” Although the chronology of the stories does not follow the traditional structure of a memoir, the structure of compilation reflects the fragmentation of time Ikpi experiences in attempts to recall her memories. Her recollection of NASA’s Challenger explosion is visceral while the memory is mangled by the incorrect time stamp that she alleges is the truth while Google states otherwise. This explosion seems to centre the moment where Ikpi believes she lost control of her mind and gained the paranoia that caused her to want to take responsibility for the misfortune. In one of the essays titled “Becoming a Liar”, Ikpi explains one can survive truths by telling lies. In recalling the time that she crashed into the garage door at her parent’s home, Ikpi creates an elaborate story about how the accident came to be. The narrative is ripped and crumbled when she admits that she actually does not know nor recall how the accident occurred, only that she and her family would declare the fabled testimony as truth.  This book is ostensibly about mental health, and it is that: We follow her from the early signs that no one recognized, through the crisis and out to the other side. This is not a trite book about victory over mental illness, excepting the fact that she is still with us; she is clear that every day is a struggle. But to present it as only a book about mental illness is to sell it short. This is a book about the human condition and how hard it is to live in this broken world in these frail bodies. So if you don’t recognize yourself in some of the despair, self-flagellation, euphoria, pride, profound love, and profound self-doubt, then it’s time for some introspection. “I give them the suggestion Allow yourself morning. I tell them it means that today may have been a rolling ball of anxiety and trembling, a face wet and slick with tears, but if you can get to morning, if you can allow yourself a new day to encourage a change, then you can get through it. Allow yourself morning.” This book chronicles how one woman learned to face her troubles. You want to root for her well being. You want to be more understanding of others. And, for some of us, by the end of I’m Telling The Truth, but I’m Lying, you might find yourself realizing you are no less guilty of telling yourself certain stories in order to deal with trauma, secrets, and shame. The hope is that you’ve taken such troubles on even half as mightily as Bassey has. Deep truths underlie this fragmented, compelling narrative, which leaves readers wishing only the best for its harrowed author.

What can I say about a book that touched my soul so deeply? First, Ikpi's experience with mental illness and difficult family dynamics allowed me a path to think about my own life and how my mental illness has impacted me. There were times that I literally had to put the book down because her words forced me (in a good way) to face things that I had tried to push aside. I found myself having more empathy for myself, which is something that does not come easy to me. I found myself being gentler with myself. I also found myself having to admit things I had done that were hurtful.Ikpi's writing is superb. What she is able to do with a sentence and how she makes you visualize what she is writing about floored me. I could see myself there, experiencing what she was. That sometimes made for difficult reading but it connected me deeply to her story.Thank you, Bassey Ikpi, for this gorgeous book that allows us all to learn about, to grow with, to empathize more with those of us who live with mental illness.

This is a searing, lyrical piece of work: Bassey Ikpi started her career as a poet, and it shows as she finds music in heartbreaking moments. There are lines that will make you laugh out loud (“I still hate yoga, it’s like a game of Simon Says that no one ever wins”) and descriptions so evocative they make you freeze: a sweater is burgundy, “the color of Anne’s raspberry cordial,” and that one line captures a type of girl that, if you were also one, identifies a kindred spirit. This book is ostensibly about mental health, and it is that: We follow her from the early signs that no one recognized, through the crisis and out to the other side. This is not a trite book about victory over mental illness, excepting the fact that she is still with us; she is clear that every day is a struggle. But to present it as only a book about mental illness is to sell it short. This is a book about the human condition and how hard it is to live in this broken world in these frail bodies. Bassey is the canary in the mine: what we may sense as a one or two on the Richter scale, she registers as a 10. But if you don’t recognize yourself in some of the despair, self flagellation, euphoria, pride, profound love, and profound self doubt, then it’s time for some introspection.I love this book and can’t wait to share it with my friends.

Ikpi writes: My family spent years looking at me and not knowing that I was not okay. When they saw how bad the “not okay” could get, they rushed to treat me like glass. Not something broken - like I felt - but something they had never noticed was in danger of breaking.“I’m Telling The Truth But I’m Lying” is a remarkably moving book for many reasons, starting with the presence of the most important ingredient in telling a story - any story at all -: the truth. The truth is a sort of flooding throughout’s Ikpi’s debut. From start to finish, I am mesmerised by it, humoured by it, stunned by it, embarrassed by it, angered by it. The truth always has many purposes anyway and that is why I suspect we often lean towards lying. Because in Ikpi’s vulnerability, in Ikpi exploring her mind and the many impacts it has on her life, I am instantly mirrored and understand the many reasons I tell lies. Even lies as simple (yet loaded) as “I am okay”. A collection of personal essays, Ikpi’s writing is consistently sharp and bold; violently lyrical. She reaches into the relationships in her life (from childhood to a woman in her 40s) with radical attention and captures vulnerability like a warrior and strength like an alien. She does this with such skill, that the reader feels that the indefinableness of many of the things they feel and go through in life is validated. There are two essays in this book that are impossible to qualify. They are beautiful, yes, but “beautiful” as a qualifier seems insufficient and lazy; “beautiful” seems light and rushed in the way two people begin to utilise I Love Yous after a while of being together. “Like a War” and “We Don’t Wear Blues” are both astonishing in style and texture. These essays, when they ended, left me terrified of breathing. As someone who is also part of this community, I do not consider this merely a mental health manifesto though it’s largely centered on it. I see this instead, as a critical document to understanding ourselves; a document that provides us the tools to affirm ourselves, to exist, to fight, to allow ourselves morning, to allow ourselves love someone -however broken we might be - and still mean it.

This memoir is a tour de force. Entirely bowled over at every turn in their essays. For anyone who would like to understand or relate to an often untold snapshot of Bipolar II. Unique in that these are collected essays from the perspective of a Nigerian-American. This is a moving, captivating read and resource. This one lands in the top ten books I've read all year, hands down.

“only a woman so small and wise could give birth to herself so many times” That was the last sentence in the “prologue” of Bassey Ikpi’s book (set to release this coming August). That sentence struck a chord with me and I knew that this collection of essays was going to be amazing and moving. Ikpi is a Nigerian- American poet and mental health advocate and overall amazing human who has been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. A disorder that Black and Brown folks to not talk about nor even have the name for. As we read through Ikpi’s essays we are met with gripping and raw narratives of what undiagnosed mental health disorders look like as well as what it looks when you’re trying to navigate your new diagnoses. She describes depression as a fog instead of just darkness and i related to that so deeply. This description is so important because often times we are taught that mental illness looks one way but really looks another. Which that is something she also touches on as well in one of her essays. She also talks about a "relationship" that she is in and as someone who has clinical depression I complete related. As someone who had clinical severe depression and general anxiety disorder, this book was something that i NEEDED to read. Bassey's writing is relatable and smooth and harrowing (but in the best way possible). She writes like we are in a conversation with her over a cup of coffee. Or even like we are watching a reality tv show that follows her. With every essay, I felt like I was right there with her fully understanding her emotions and feelings and moods. This collection of essays is extremely important and necessary because we must change the narrative around mental health and Black and Brown folks

at the beginning, i didn’t know the journey i would go on with this book. i didn’t know the heartbreak that lay ahead. i didn’t know how full yet empty it would leave me feeling. this book is poetry, it is wound; it is the truth of living circumstance that is needed within the black community. mental health is taboo for us. it is the thing you hide and push away, that you denounce with every fiber of your being. it’s just something you live with and don’t care to ask its name. and that is what ikpi did for a long time. with each page that i read my heart broke over and over again. i felt a wariness and exhaustion and could only imagine what it felt to actually live through this all. the telling of her life, of her illness in the form of these poetic essays was breathtaking. it read as memoir, but skipped along in time to the beat of ikpi’s brain. you lived the hypomania as the words pushed forward and through the page. skittish. cluttered. determined. painful. just a few words to describe what this work is—but ultimately, it is brave. i know ikpi doesn’t think of it as such, but what else can you call you it? the ability to lay bare your most frightening trials and offer them to the world in all their bloody honesty? that is brave.this work has left me feeling heavy, and i applaud ikpi for opening herself to us and letting us see that we are not immune to these issues. and the fact that she doesn’t give us a neat little story with a happy ending is noteworthy because so many tales would have us think it is rainbows and sunshine after the storm. yet, it is not and she gives us that truth and let’s us know that sometimes the work isn’t enough—but you keep going. you keep trying and you keep living. you allow yourself the morning.

2022 March update -Rereading this about 6 months after my 1st read and I don't really understand what my first review of this book was on about. Still appreciate the way mental health is brought to life here and a lot of the other things mentioned in the review but Its more of a 3.8/5 than my earlier 5/5 star rating. September 2021 - If Bassey had the intention of making the reader experience a glimpse of the chaos, confusion and anxiety that comes with her kind of mental illness she certainly did just that.The tenses change often, things happen randomly, before she's diagnosed I had lots and lots of times when I was lost or confused about why and what was going on but then it became clear and then its foggy again and then you are not sure if she's lying or telling the truth anymore.This is a good thing because apart from her writing being refreshing I truly felt the frustration with her. Deeply personal and uncomfortably honest this is a beautifully written memoir.I also appreciated how she tackled how mental health is responded to in African culture and how that In turn affects how the diagnosed person will respond to it.Its hard to review such a personal story and while it may seem confusing for some on some parts I absolutely enjoyed every high and low of this book and wanted to clear out of the fog to the end.Definitely recommend it

This was a poets take on her bipolar disorder life

Heartbreakingly honest, navigating these experiences, this life of pain and yet love lingers in every memory in some way. Such a penetrating insight into her world. A necessary read. Also, it made me cry

Bassey Ikpi takes readers deep into the desperately spiraling path her mind takes as she poetically puts into words living with bipolar II. Manic texts and emails to family and friends, comatose states of sleeplessness, a restlessness that requires laps around city blocks, negotiating periods of being repulsed by any kind of food, and a desire to no longer live while also not wanting to die -- this is Ikpi's life as she bravely shares her struggles, her scattered thought processes, and her confusion and frustration as to why she can't just be "normal". Ikpi writes about her difficult childhood, failed romantic relationships, family tensions, and what she sees as her own failures in this collection of incredibly personal essays. She explains everything from the first signs of something being "wrong" to attempts at excusing away symptoms of bigger issues and pushing herself so hard that she finally breaks down and is hospitalized. As she learns of her diagnosis and struggles to find the "magical" cocktail of medications to help her function on a daily basis, Ikpi admits that her life has not been magically solved, that her story isn't over, and that she still has to fight -- even on days when she can say out loud that she is "better" and even when she's so tired she doesn't know why she's fighting anymore...As a child of a parent with mental illness, it is difficult for me to explain how I felt while reading Bassey Ikpi's words. I couldn't fathom what my mother was going through, especially since I was relatively young at the height of her struggle. This window into the mind of mental illness has done more for my understanding than anything else I've encountered. Ikpi and my mother do not share the same diagnosis, however Ikpi's glimpse into how the mind can be sabotaged and can lose its ability to control "normal" functions such as getting dressed or eating food was enlightening for those of us who can't understand how mental illness is not something that can be pushed through like someone trying to run just one more lap around a track. The track never ends, the finish line never gets closer. There is only so much one without a mental illness can understand about someone who lives with it on an everyday basis, but I would like to thank Bassey Ikpi for her bravery and for helping others to learn about what it is like for those who live with mental illness.

Never do I encounter a book with a voice that is so freaking relatable. It says a lot about me that the most accessible passages were so, not just because the writing itself, on a granular level, is off the charts lyrical and wonderful, but also, the manic narration, full of repetition and thrumming with anxiety- I've had many similar internal monologues of such insistence, weighing heavy on a frazzled mind, exerting pressure on top of the pressure I already insist upon in order to hold myself to a high standard of moral/intellect/perseverance in my personal and professional lives. It scared me, as it seemed to sometimes scare Bassey, how pushy those inner voices can be, and I'm so glad that though there were close calls, that she got help and kept trying different medications until she found what worked to level her out. Going through that process is arduous to say the least. I've read several "tough" stories lately, both fiction and nonfiction, and due to this growing prevalence of writers opening up the conversations into their personal mental health struggles/journeys, I'm hoping that for all, that letting more people in to what they've been through is helpful in some way, whether it is how their words contribute to breaking the stigma surrounding mental illness, or how it gives them tools to find catharsis, or closure, something. I'm deliriously happy that I can pick up 5+ books in a row this last month, each portraying different truths, all valid, all heartbreaking to some extent, all shedding some light on what "normal" can mean for these characters/authors, and how important it is to be open to listening, learning, and laying off judgment because the one time you lend an ear instead of tone-deaf advice, might be the time you save someone from the precipice.