Every morning, I am woken up by our caretaker, Sumathi, given a handful of medications, and ordered to shower. It’s my morning routine, as if I am getting ready to go to school. I have good mornings when I am able to do as I am told, but most days I have to fight all of you who are telling me to do other things. Sometimes your voices make me stay in the bathroom for no reason and Sumathi has to knock on the door for a while to get me to come out. If I make trouble, Sumathi will yell at me for a couple minutes and bring me to the dining room, where I’m served breakfast and released to wander around the home. Throughout the day, I walk around the house, watch Malayalam movies on the television, and take several naps. I’m not sure why, but I think my medication makes me very sleepy. At least that is what I have heard my family say. It sounds very lonely, but sometimes your voices keep me company, especially during my daily walks. I’ve gotten better at suppressing your voices in front of other people in order to avoid weird glances from my family members or other people, but sometimes I still need to tell you all to stop. I wasn’t always like this though. Up until I was 16, I was the pride and joy of my family. I was born here, in Kerala, India, but I had an adventurous childhood that many people in my time did not receive. I lived in Bombay and Malaysia and travelled all over with my parents and my two little brothers. I was extremely close to my father and we would talk for hours. He was very progressive with women for his time and allowed me to do everything my brothers could. I knew I was his favorite. At school, I was the first rank holder and I was known for my intelligence. However, my wonderful childhood took a drastic turn when I stayed with my beautiful cousins for two weeks when my parents were out of town. Even though it's been 42 years since the first time I heard one of you, I remember it as clear as day. It’s one of the few memories from my childhood that I remember. I woke up startled to hear someone yell at me and your voice, Ammu, told me to get up and look presentable. “Look at how dark you are. Your cousins are so fair and beautiful! You will never be as pretty as them. At least put some powder on,” said Ammu. I quickly obliged, not processing the fact that I was hearing voices. “More! More! You are so ugly and too tall for your age. And your clothes! Don’t even bother trying,” Ammu yelled. At this point I had emptied half the bottle of powder on the table. The next thing I knew, I was screaming for Ammu to stop. My aunt found me and pushed me into the bathroom to wash all the powder off. I don’t remember much after that, but the next day my parents came back and took me back home. From that day on, Ammu was always a significant part of my life, talking to me about my appearance. The Sheila everyone knew quickly deteriorated into an abyss. One day, my parents took me to the doctor’s office. I wasn’t really sure why I was there because no one would tell me anything, but the doctor made me lay down on a couch, close my eyes, and tried to make me sleep. He started asking a variety of questions, but you, Ammu, would distract me with your constant speeches. I’m not sure what happened, but from that day forward, I would be taking many pills for the rest of my life. About seven years later, my parents decided to arrange my marriage to a man who had no idea about Ammu. “If we get you married off, it might all go away,” my mother said as she helped me dress into my wedding sari. “This is all God’s work. You must have done something in your past life to get this curse.” I knew she was right. Every time I walk past a picture of Lord Shiva, the God of Destruction, I can see his third eye opening in front of me. I always avoid looking at the pictures of Him in my home because if His eye opens fully, I will be destroyed in an instant. I have asked my cousins before if they have seen His eye opening and they just laughed at me. I knew from then on that God was watching my every move, cursing me with the voices in my head. I didn’t want to get married, but at that point I had been the family disappointment for several years. My father lost all his hopes and dreams with me and didn’t talk to me as much. I decided to do everything my parents asked of me. However, a small part of me was excited. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house much and I was looking forward to eating a Sadhya, which is a full meal on a banana leaf. I loved the wonderful combinations of the savory side dishes, with the rice and lentil curries. The tangy pickles to compliment the meal made my mouth water and the final sweet pudding satisfied the whole meal. The overall aroma of the meal and comforting smells made me forget about my future life as a wife. For a couple days, things were exciting, but after several weeks, you appeared, Sachu. “Now that you are married, you think you are amazing, huh? Your husband will leave you for another woman. He doesn’t love you and will never love you,” Sachu would say. You would also tell me how my husband was going to run away with my gold and leave me. I quickly believed you and fought my husband many times. I accused him of cheating on me and stealing all of my belongings. Everyone in his family quickly began to despise me and Sachu would encourage me to yell. I wasn’t the good Indian daughter-in-law they were expecting and they quickly realized I would never be. My husband, unable to handle my illness, divorced me within a year and my marriage was never spoken about again. For over thirty years, I have been in the same home with my parents, my sister-in-law, my nieces and various caretakers. My first brother works in Dubai and visits his wife and kids in our home every couple of months. My youngest brother and his family are in America and visit us every other year. I’m not expected to do much. I am trapped in my mind and in my home. My nieces don’t really pay attention to me and they shouldn’t anyway. I am too much of a burden and they deserve to have strong independent lives. My sister-in-law, Bindu, is the primary caregiver in our home. She takes me to all my hospital visits. It’s funny how she calls me chechi, which means elder sister, but has to take care of me. I sometimes feel bad for her. She not only took care of my parents and me, but also her parents. She is everyone’s caretaker. Even though she is strict, I appreciate everything she has done for my family and me and I wish I had the capacity to be the perfect daughter-in-law like she is. “Sheila chechi! Stop talking. There is no one across from you. When we go to the hospital, make sure to look down. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself,” Bindu always tells me. I’m most likely talking to you, Maya. You have always been the friendlier one, even if you make me very scared of the neighbors and other people. You and I both watch people and discuss what they could be doing. I believe a lot of people are inherently bad. When people look at me, I just know they are looking to steal something from me. Maybe the gold chain around my neck that I hold consistently. I make sure to wrap my hand around my small pendant at all times. If I don’t feel the tiny gold Krishna statue around my hand in public, I become extremely scared. The three of you accompany me everywhere. Sometimes I feel as though your presence is stronger during some periods over the others. As I grew up, I realized that the doctors' visits were because of you three. No one else could hear you and sometimes when all three of you spoke it would be too much for me to handle. I knew I would get angry with people when that happened, especially with my nieces when they were really young. The doctors would always ask me about you and then proceed to ask Bindu most of the questions. If I have a new pill to take, I would have different experiences with you. Sometimes it would make me happier and not feel as lonely. I would also feel as though I wasn’t as scared of the things you all made me scared of. Those periods were really nice, but after a while you guys would find a way to come back. I would get a new medication again and the cycle would keep going. I also think these medications were really strong. My father accidentally took one of my pills instead of his diabetes medication and he ended up in a coma for several weeks. My brothers flew in from America and Dubai. A lot of extended family members looked at me with shame because they realized it was the same pill I take every day. Do you all really make me that different? I know I have done harmful things because you all have told me to, pressured me to, or even because I just wanted you to stop, but I didn’t know my brain was so different until it affected my father. Today, I am 58 years old. My parents have both passed away and my nieces are at colleges in different areas, so I am the only person left to take care of. My brothers are both very successful and living their best lives. Bindu may be strict, but I am thankful for her. I have seen people like me on the roads or outside the temples, and I do realize it could have been me. I have told my nieces that as well. My life is revolving around my illness, whatever it is. It is a confusing state as I do not know what I have and the doctors don’t tell me any details, but I know I can’t do anything because of it. The medications make me numb and I don’t have much room to feel. I can’t have a job and I don’t have any aspirations. I try to help here and there by cutting up vegetables and setting up the table, but that is the most I am expected to do. Ammu, sometimes you still tell me to get dressed properly and maybe that’s why I take my clothes and my beauty very seriously. My nieces make fun of me and ask me why I like to get dressed up if I have nowhere to go. They don’t realize it is because of you, Ammu. My oldest niece is going to be a doctor and I recently told her about how Ammu tells me I am ugly, how Sachu makes me cautious of stealing, and how Maya makes me very anxious. She still doesn’t seem to understand too much, but for the first time she asked. I am hoping it is because she finally understands what I have, but at the same time what is the point. All I really have are your cursed voices in my head. Sometimes I imagine what my life would have been like if I wasn’t like this. Would I have had kids? Would I be working with ships like my father? Whatever it may be, I was meant to live like this. I hope in my next life, I live a fulfilling one because I paid for the actions of my past life. As much as all of you have been in my head throughout my adult life, I would never wish this upon anyone. I want everyone to be heard.