Rachel recommended I see a psychiatrist who could prescribe medication to level off my extreme moods. I looked at her as if she were insane. “You aren’t putting me on medication! I am JeniferMothaFuckinLewis; you aren’t going to turn me into a zombie.” I feared medication would take away my personality and restrain my ability to express emotions. Rachel wrote something down, and I’m sure she went to see her shrink right after I left.
My negative attitude toward pharmaceuticals was affirmed by one psychiatrist Rachel sent me to. In his office, I saw a girl at the dispensary asking for her lithium. She looked out of it, fucked up. That stuck in my mind. I didn’t want to be sluggish and dull like that. The psychiatrist said he didn’t see anything wrong with my “edge,” referring to my mania. “You need that to do what you do.” He was right in the sense that performers are rewarded for being over the top, with boundless energy and extreme emotions. I decided against taking medication.
My point is that even health experts can have different opinions and come to different conclusions about the same patient. This makes it all the more important for us patients to take charge of our own health care. We have to seek varying sources of information and advice, and most of all we have to listen to our own bodies. You must pay attention to your symptoms and responses. It takes patience and diligence, but it is the key to helping your doctors help you.
I started to read more books about mental health and got back into spiritual books. Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés touched me and many other women deeply. The book presented ideas on the power and strength of women and puts the “wild woman” that is within each of us in a positive light. I, a self-proclaimed alpha woman, was attracted to that message.
Hillary Clinton wrote a book that impressed me as well—It Takes a Village. The book refers to an African proverb about what it takes to raise a child. But the idea can be applied to taking care of all people in general and me specifically. I was saved by the fact that I was surrounded by a “village” of good people, including my family, therapist, and friends—and of course the Boat. My family may have been dysfunctional in my youth, but we loved each other and were never far apart for long. My friends were not only brilliant and talented; they showed me love and support—even in my darkest times. When you are not at your best, surround yourself with good people.
In terms of my career, the better I understood myself and managed the bipolar illness, the more offers came my way, including Undercover Blues with Dennis Quaid and an HBO show, Dream On. Debbie Allen (oh fabulous one) swooped in and gave me a huge boost by asking me to become a regular on A Different World, playing Dean Dorothy Davenport. That meant my name would appear in the opening titles and I would be guaranteed a minimum number of episodes during the season. Cree Summer, who played a character named Freddie Brooks, and I started hanging out a lot. The depth of our inside ridiculous humor cannot be described. Let’s just say we were cutting the fool every moment we were together hiking in the hills.
The icing on the cake was that I did Johnny Carson’s last Tonight Show, with Bette Midler. I had always dreamt of being on Johnny Carson’s show. I found it amazing that I was booked on the very last show, and with Bette Midler singing an upbeat rendition of “Miss Otis Regrets” (Ella Fitzgerald was known for her slower, mournful version). And our dear Marc Shaiman was on piano. Life was complete. I was so damn happy.
Robin Williams was on the show, too. I had always been a huge fan of his, but his behavior backstage is what I remember most. He was in an extremely manic state, and in that moment I saw myself. I became aware how I failed to see anyone else when I was in that state. I felt unsettled. With all this good stuff going on, the rollercoaster of happy/sad, happy/sad became intolerable. I just got sick and tired of it. I finally told Rachel I was ready to begin medication. But even with medication, my depression lingered. I was trying to create more productive energy in my life; attending lectures on positive thinking and living in the moment. I had started meditating again and tried to stop smoking. (Rachel told me it revealed a lack of self-love.)
I auditioned for The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and was hired to play Aunt Helen. I was excited to get a prime-time show that was already a hit. I had a blast working with the cast, especially Will Smith. One night I was backstage wearing a negligee. Will, with his big ears, saw me and said, “Oooh! You look good.” As always, he had a bunch of groupies hovering nearby. I motioned at him and said, “Come here.” I pointed to the young women. “You see all those little girls down there? You g’on and flirt with them, because if you flirt with me, I’ll fuck you.” In typical Will fashion, his response was, “Uh oh, uh oh.” And then he laughingly told everyone the story. It was a bonding experience and he became quite protective of me. Our mutual admiration for each other’s talent made it a joy to work on the show.
I started hanging out with Janet Hubert, who played my sister and Will’s Aunt Viv on the show. Let’s just say that Ms. Hubert was not having any of it. From anybody. At any time.
I was coming from a Boat meeting one night, and some kids decided they would roll a grocery cart out in front of my little white Mazda 323. There was no way I could hit the brakes in time, but when I pulled over, it was a relief to see my car had only minimal damage. I wanted to report the incident to the police and walked toward the nearest home to see if I could use someone’s phone. Just as I pressed the doorbell, I heard glass shatter and turned to see one of the kids reach in my passenger window, steal my purse off the front seat, and take off running. Damn, I was mad! But having been a little thief myself in my youth, I knew they only wanted the cash and would throw the purse away. The following day, I went back to the scene of the crime and put myself in the thieves’ minds. Where would I have thrown that purse? I mounted a concrete wall to the back of an apartment building, climbed across the balcony, and up onto the roof. I retrieved my purse and took my black ass home. I saw a couple of other purses up there, too.
The next day, I had therapy and was then supposed to go to an audition for which I’d been studying for days. I told Rachel I planned to skip the audition ’cause my car window was broken and we were being hit hard by the rains of El Ni?o. She was not having it and told me I would be going to the audition. I drove all the way to Culver City with a plastic trash bag taped over the passenger’s window. I auditioned for a twenty-four-year-old director named John Singleton, for his film Poetic Justice. After I finished my reading, I looked at John squarely. “Little boy, just give me the fucking part, will ya?” He said, “Yes ma’am.”