The Process of Sickness: Part V (Finale: Girl, Interrupted)
First of all, if you haven't seen the movie "Girl, Interrupted," watch it. If you have suffered from, or know someone who has suffered from depression or other mental illnesses, it is quite accurate. If you know nothing of mental illness, please take this movie seriously...it is intense, but very realistic - besides the fact that it is based on a true story.
I had been sick. Since I was a young child, I had battled mental illness. As I understand it from other people who have suffered from major illnesses, I didn't recognize it for many years, until it finally overtook me. In college, I dealt with the "beast" head-on.
And I didn't win, but my G-d did.
During my last semester at college, I was making decisions about where to go. I knew I would be a teacher, but where, when and how was still up in the air. At this point, I really didn't care. I was so excited to be overcoming this illness that nothing really phased me anymore. I applied for at least 75 positions, none of which I got. So, I booked a ticked and planned to go home to Brazil to serve with mom and dad until something popped up. A few weeks before graduation in December, I got a call that a church needed some help, but only to start the following May. That was fine with me - I would just go home and help out for a few months, and then journey back state-side to continue whatever it was G-d had for me.
Those last months of college were so vital to me. I learned a lot of lessons. I learned that I could dream again, just like I did when I was a kid. I learned that if I really trusted G-d and gave Him everything, He would work things out beautifully. I dated a great guy who taught me that not all guys are alike, and there are some out there who can truly love you. Even though we broke up, and I had no stable job, I felt like I was at a beautiful time in my life - a time when I was protected under G-d's wings, loved by the right people, and focused on living and dreaming again.
In January, I was off to Brazil. My first task there was a training clinic where we would help lay-workers to be more efficient and have more resources for their ministries. I taught quite a few classes; music, education, youth....and even helped my mom with a "Love, Dating and Marriage" class. There was a guy in that class, Alessandro - kind of funny. Very smiley, but I thought he was a pain - everybody was always talking to him and paying attention to him instead of the class.
One day, while teaching about how to use the "dating game" as a lesson on waiting for the person G-d has for you, I called up volunteers. Alessandro happened to be standing beside me (by the way, this is on video). I talked about the importance of teaching teenagers not to give into sexual temptation as I had earlier in my life. I taught about how "G-d might have someone for you that you don't even know - could be standing right beside you."
Alessandro was also interested in teaching youth, so he came to my youth seminar. After it was over, he came up, gave me his phone number and said: "If you need any help with your ministry while you are here, just give me a call."
The very next week, we had a tragedy. A guy who worked for us on the boat (ministry boat on the Amazon), who was also the main youth director of the city (also named Alessandro), fell into the river and drowned. He had just talked to me a few days earlier about coming to speak at the next youth rally. But now, everything was up in the air. The city was in shock - no one was expecting this, much less the youth. So, I went to his church, and the first person to come up and meet me was - you guessed it, Alessandro from the training clinic. Come to find out, he and Alessandro were best friends. Alessandro looked at me and said, "We can't let the youth fall into despair, we still have to make this youth rally happen." So, we spent the next week planning. The 2 of us were in charge of the rally. And I had never noticed it before, but when he stood up in front of that huge crowd, G-d opened my eyes and showed me - this was him, the "him" I had been waiting for.
But I had a ticket back to the US for 3 months later. I had a job waiting on me. We prayed, studied, took personality tests and marriage counseling. Yep, we got engaged a few days before I flew out. We were engaged for 4 months (more time apart than when we were together) and I finished the job in the states and flew back to Brazil a week before we got married.
*Now, there is a lot more to this story, but I'll fill you in on that later.*
During those few months, I was being detoxed from all the meds. The doctors wanted to take a chance and see if I could deal with life without all the medication. Detoxing from that much in your system really takes a toll on you. But through it all, I had my parents there, my new found man, ministry, and.....a dream from childhood.....I was called to record my first cd. This is where I realized I had been a Girl, Interrupted.
I had spent so many years of my life worrying about my life, that I wasn't living. I had taken the reigns from my Creator and was attempting to control everything myself. But in the process of finding myself, my love and my dreams, I drove my life into the ground....I was impure sexually, I was mentally ill and I was only able to attempt a career by G-d's grace. But the minute I turned everything over to His command, the interruption ended. I was living again, loving again, ministering again and dreaming again.
So, here I am. At the end of the process, what is left is simply: a girl.
A girl with scars, but alive.
A girl who experiences pain, but lives with love.
A girl with dreams, sometimes interrupted, but always fulfilled.
I am nothing more than you are - a seeker, a traveler, a human.
There is only one reason you are able to read these words -
G-d has kept me here as He has kept You.
You might not want to admit it, or recognize it, or accept it, or give into it - but I have experienced it. It is true. He is real. You can feel Him. You can know Him. Right now, He is with You...waiting for you to stop interrupting what He has planned for you: LIFE!
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"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Saturday, October 27, 2007
The Process of Sickness: Part IV (Death's Door)
There were quite a few episodes where I tried to take my life, but only one made a real impact on me.
Date Unknown, Year 2000, My apartment, 3am, kitchen, alone:
I stood there with a tear-drenched face and a kitchen knife at my stomach. I was so ready to give up and push that sucker as hard as I could. People had prayed for me, spent time and money on me, tried to counsel me, tried to console me, given me meds, given me food......nothing was going to work. I know that now. My idea was that I would free everyone from the burden of me, and allow G-d to take me home (my delusional thoughts of suicide). I thought that if I went to be with Him, that would be the best option for everyone involved. I wanted to push that knife....and I did......
....but it didn't go in. Now I was just mad. I had mustered up enough courage to push and the stupid thing wouldn't go in, so I opened my mouth to scream at Him.....All of a sudden, my knees gave way and I fell hard, kneeling on the linoleum kitchen floor, my mouth opened, but only one word came out of my mouth: "Jesus"..........yeah, that sounds nice, right? One problem: I didn't say that. I didn't want to say that, my mouth did that without my mind's permission. So, I opened my mouth again: "Jesus".....My mind was racing: "What in the heck is wrong with me, that's not what I want to say!" I tried again...."Jesus"....and again "Jesus......I don't know how many times it happened. All I know is that I was no longer in charge. This wasn't about me anymore. I had no control over the knife, my hands, my knees, my mouth....something else, someOne else was in charge now....and the knife fell to the floor as a new river of tears rushed from my eyes. These were not the same tears as before, I can still feel them today...they were not hot angry tears, they were not thick, sticky, sad tears......they were cool, refreshing, cleansing tears.
*Years later, while learning about Jewish tradition and some Hebrew, I discovered the name of Jesus, "Yeshua," which literally translated is "salvation," and proves:
"Therefore GOD exalted Him to the highest place and gave Him the name that is above every name, that at the name of "Yeshua," every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Yeshua the Messiah is LORD, to the glory of GOD, the Father." Philippians 2:9-11*
I can't tell you that my life changed from that day. It didn't. It took a long time. I had to drop out of school that semester because I couldn't keep up with classes. I had to leave my position as recording secretary in my sorority (fraternity, technically), and leave the girls hanging. I had to go back home to Brazil. I laid in a bed for a solid month. I'm sure I ate and bathed and all, my parents took great care of me, but I don't remember any of that. All I remember was laying there, watching TV, sleeping and reading my bible. And one day, it came to me, I have to "give" my life to the LORD. I mean really GIVE it to Him. Because it is beyond obvious that I can't do this alone. I can't take care of myself, I can't go to school, I can't face a single person - I can't do any of it. So, if I was supposed to live, then HE would have to live for me. I remember that I sat up in bed, swung my legs over the side and looked down at the floor and said:
"G-d, You have not allowed me what I want - death. You kept me alive and I don't know why. So, here's the deal I am willing to make. If You want me to live, then YOU have to do it all. I mean everything. I don't know how to wake up, when to eat, take a bath or take my meds, how to look people in the face, how not to cry at the drop of a hat, how not to hate myself, how not to kill myself, how to go to class, how to take notes, how to study, how to pass tests....I CAN'T DO IT. But if this is Your doing, and You are who You say You are, then YOU CAN. So, I'm not even going to try. I'm not going to say I can do anything. But if You make me do it, I will. So, if you want me to finish college - I promise you, that no matter what happens and whatever name they put on the diploma, I will know that it is Your name there. You will get ALL the praise and glory, because I know I deserve none. I deserve death, but You won't give me that. So, I give You what little there is left. Do what You want - but YOU DO IT."
And that was it. I knocked on death's door, but it was locked and bolted to me. I got up out of bed, walked out to the living room where my parents were surprised to see me. I looked at them and said, "I'm done. It's time to go back."
I went back to school. Got a job. Got elected as president of the fraternity, even though I had just left them hanging the year before. Took classes. Passed them. Had my senior recital go off without a hitch. Did my internship without fail. I woke up early every morning and drove to the schools I had to work at. Never late. Always bathed, medicated, full and feeling fine. I found a therapist who used scripture to keep me accountable. I got into weight lifting with a personal trainer and swimming lessons with a friend. I got my meds straightened out. But there was one final test before I would be allowed to walk at graduation.
All of the education majors were frustrated. The state board has decided to completely re-vamp the teacher certification exam. And they wouldn't let you take it till your last semester. In other words, if you didn't pass it the first time, you would have to take another semester of school in order to take the test again. Since I was now about a semester behind, people I knew were failing it left and right. There was no way to study for it. No precedents. I had one shot, or else I wouldn't graduate.
It was about a 4-hr long exam. Excruciating. They asked things we had NEVER studied. And they asked details...LOTS of details. I did my best, despite a student I knew from my college trying to cheat off me (she must have been nuts - trying to cheat off the girl who dropped out for mental illness!). About 3 weeks later, a few weeks before graduation, I went down to my mailbox. It was a Saturday morning, there was no one there. My box was on the row closest to the floor, so I knelt down, looked in the box, and there it was...the envelope with my scores.
While I was opening it, I said to G-d: "Here's Your moment."...and looked down in disbelief....I had passed.....with HIGH scores. It was over...finished. Tears of joy filled not only my eyes, but my heart. I thanked Him over and over and over. I had a huge smile and sat there, all alone, on that cold floor, on a Saturday morning realizing my life could now be categorized as a "miracle."
I graduated despite MANY people's disbelief, including my own. I had been ridiculed before as being "mediocre" and "incapable." Now, I was successful. Yet not I, but He who is in me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"And we know that in all things GOD works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. "
Romans 8:28
There were quite a few episodes where I tried to take my life, but only one made a real impact on me.
Date Unknown, Year 2000, My apartment, 3am, kitchen, alone:
I stood there with a tear-drenched face and a kitchen knife at my stomach. I was so ready to give up and push that sucker as hard as I could. People had prayed for me, spent time and money on me, tried to counsel me, tried to console me, given me meds, given me food......nothing was going to work. I know that now. My idea was that I would free everyone from the burden of me, and allow G-d to take me home (my delusional thoughts of suicide). I thought that if I went to be with Him, that would be the best option for everyone involved. I wanted to push that knife....and I did......
....but it didn't go in. Now I was just mad. I had mustered up enough courage to push and the stupid thing wouldn't go in, so I opened my mouth to scream at Him.....All of a sudden, my knees gave way and I fell hard, kneeling on the linoleum kitchen floor, my mouth opened, but only one word came out of my mouth: "Jesus"..........yeah, that sounds nice, right? One problem: I didn't say that. I didn't want to say that, my mouth did that without my mind's permission. So, I opened my mouth again: "Jesus".....My mind was racing: "What in the heck is wrong with me, that's not what I want to say!" I tried again...."Jesus"....and again "Jesus......I don't know how many times it happened. All I know is that I was no longer in charge. This wasn't about me anymore. I had no control over the knife, my hands, my knees, my mouth....something else, someOne else was in charge now....and the knife fell to the floor as a new river of tears rushed from my eyes. These were not the same tears as before, I can still feel them today...they were not hot angry tears, they were not thick, sticky, sad tears......they were cool, refreshing, cleansing tears.
*Years later, while learning about Jewish tradition and some Hebrew, I discovered the name of Jesus, "Yeshua," which literally translated is "salvation," and proves:
"Therefore GOD exalted Him to the highest place and gave Him the name that is above every name, that at the name of "Yeshua," every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Yeshua the Messiah is LORD, to the glory of GOD, the Father." Philippians 2:9-11*
I can't tell you that my life changed from that day. It didn't. It took a long time. I had to drop out of school that semester because I couldn't keep up with classes. I had to leave my position as recording secretary in my sorority (fraternity, technically), and leave the girls hanging. I had to go back home to Brazil. I laid in a bed for a solid month. I'm sure I ate and bathed and all, my parents took great care of me, but I don't remember any of that. All I remember was laying there, watching TV, sleeping and reading my bible. And one day, it came to me, I have to "give" my life to the LORD. I mean really GIVE it to Him. Because it is beyond obvious that I can't do this alone. I can't take care of myself, I can't go to school, I can't face a single person - I can't do any of it. So, if I was supposed to live, then HE would have to live for me. I remember that I sat up in bed, swung my legs over the side and looked down at the floor and said:
"G-d, You have not allowed me what I want - death. You kept me alive and I don't know why. So, here's the deal I am willing to make. If You want me to live, then YOU have to do it all. I mean everything. I don't know how to wake up, when to eat, take a bath or take my meds, how to look people in the face, how not to cry at the drop of a hat, how not to hate myself, how not to kill myself, how to go to class, how to take notes, how to study, how to pass tests....I CAN'T DO IT. But if this is Your doing, and You are who You say You are, then YOU CAN. So, I'm not even going to try. I'm not going to say I can do anything. But if You make me do it, I will. So, if you want me to finish college - I promise you, that no matter what happens and whatever name they put on the diploma, I will know that it is Your name there. You will get ALL the praise and glory, because I know I deserve none. I deserve death, but You won't give me that. So, I give You what little there is left. Do what You want - but YOU DO IT."
And that was it. I knocked on death's door, but it was locked and bolted to me. I got up out of bed, walked out to the living room where my parents were surprised to see me. I looked at them and said, "I'm done. It's time to go back."
I went back to school. Got a job. Got elected as president of the fraternity, even though I had just left them hanging the year before. Took classes. Passed them. Had my senior recital go off without a hitch. Did my internship without fail. I woke up early every morning and drove to the schools I had to work at. Never late. Always bathed, medicated, full and feeling fine. I found a therapist who used scripture to keep me accountable. I got into weight lifting with a personal trainer and swimming lessons with a friend. I got my meds straightened out. But there was one final test before I would be allowed to walk at graduation.
All of the education majors were frustrated. The state board has decided to completely re-vamp the teacher certification exam. And they wouldn't let you take it till your last semester. In other words, if you didn't pass it the first time, you would have to take another semester of school in order to take the test again. Since I was now about a semester behind, people I knew were failing it left and right. There was no way to study for it. No precedents. I had one shot, or else I wouldn't graduate.
It was about a 4-hr long exam. Excruciating. They asked things we had NEVER studied. And they asked details...LOTS of details. I did my best, despite a student I knew from my college trying to cheat off me (she must have been nuts - trying to cheat off the girl who dropped out for mental illness!). About 3 weeks later, a few weeks before graduation, I went down to my mailbox. It was a Saturday morning, there was no one there. My box was on the row closest to the floor, so I knelt down, looked in the box, and there it was...the envelope with my scores.
While I was opening it, I said to G-d: "Here's Your moment."...and looked down in disbelief....I had passed.....with HIGH scores. It was over...finished. Tears of joy filled not only my eyes, but my heart. I thanked Him over and over and over. I had a huge smile and sat there, all alone, on that cold floor, on a Saturday morning realizing my life could now be categorized as a "miracle."
I graduated despite MANY people's disbelief, including my own. I had been ridiculed before as being "mediocre" and "incapable." Now, I was successful. Yet not I, but He who is in me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"And we know that in all things GOD works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. "
Romans 8:28
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Process of Sickness - Part III (IT IS HERE)
*I'll start by telling you, "I don't remember." It is important for you to understand, I have lost parts of my memory based on the story you are about to hear. So, it might seem incoherent, obscure and mangled, but it is what it is.*
During my third year in school, I lived alone in my apartment. My friends started noticing something was wrong with me. Sometimes I didn't show up for class. Sometimes I didn't call them. But I was always a bit unpredictable, so no one really said anything. I felt something going on, but I didn't know what it was. I was sad...a LOT. I would cry every time I was alone. I didn't want to go to class. I was getting behind in all my work and feeling pressured, overloaded. Migraines were a norm now. My new couple of friends who lived down the hall would come over to find me vomiting on the floor. I was becoming a recluse and no one knew why, including me.
At the same time, I was good at my own bluff. I was youth/music director for a small church, always preparing and doing stuff with the kids. I pulled my friends in to help and they always said it was a blast. But this thing was tugging at me. During music practice one day, I just broke down. During choir, I would frequently have to excuse myself in crying fits. During concerts, I would sit down among the sea of black performance outfits and huddle into my own mind. During classes, I would keep my head buried in a book or my own notes would drift off into nonsense.
My constant frame of mind consisted of: "I am worthless. I am ugly. I'm in pain. I am useless. I am weak. I can't stop crying. I am dumb. I can't sing. I'm unlovable. I'm sad. I'm a sinner. What's wrong with me? I am losing my mind...." My friends experienced the worst of me - coming over to my place and it would be a wreck; a week's worth of dirty dishes piled up, clothes scattered everywhere and me in a trance on the couch in front of the TV. I didn't know what day it was. Didn't remember if I had slept or eaten or even taken a shower. Sometimes I would do things 3 or 4 times in a row because I couldn't remember if I had already done it. I would either sleep for days at a time, or not sleep at all. I couldn't remember when I had class. I couldn't hardly make myself go when I did remember. I could just imagine everyone looking at me when I walked in - and I just couldn't show my face. I was invited to a very special wedding one weekend, where we had to sit in the front row. At the reception, I found the furthest wall away from the action. I literally glued myself up against it while I shook with fear of every person in that room. My friend was with me who noticed I wasn't well and took me home.
I'll never forget the day that one of my friends became the truest of them all. We were in bowling class together. I was studying for a test for my next class. But I was so stressed out, I couldn't' see the words in the book for all of my tears. "N" came over to me. How I love him for what he was about to do to me. He asked me why I was crying. I told him I was about to fail a test and I couldn't miss any more classes because I had already missed so many. He looked me straight in the eyes and said: "Rachel, you are going to the school's psychologist and I am taking you right now." I was so mad at him at that moment, but he wasn't backing down. He literally dragged me up to the third floor of the student center where everything became clear.
The psychologist gave me a depression test - usually scores can be up to 15 points or so, though a normal score would be 5-10. I scored a 42. He told me I was clinically depressed and needed to be admitted to the diagnostic program of the psychiatric ward in the capital of our state. I refused. I told him I was fine. I had no family anywhere nearby and all I had at school were my friends and I was not about to leave them. So, he forced me to sign a contract that I would continue coming to see him and to seek out medical help to put me on antidepressants.
The next phase is so blurry to me. But what I can tell you is that 3 doctor's were put on my case. They started me with a normal dosage of a light antidepressant. They kept raising the dosage, but nothing happened. They would change me from one to another, raising dosages and eventually started mixing drugs. I became quite familiar with: prozac, wellbutrin, zoloft, serzone and paxil. At one point, I was taking 4 of these at the same time. I gained and lost weight quite regularly. My appetite would increase and decrease daily. And, I started to really lose my memory. The idea of self mutilation and suicide became a constant.
I remember my parents finding out. They came to visit me and I was shaking all over. They went to the psychologist with me and he forced me to show them my forearms which I had cut and scratched and left obvious scars. I remember just becoming even more sad because now I was hurting them too.
I remember being up late at night wondering if this would be the night I would really do it - I would really commit suicide. But most of the time, some friend would come by and distract me with an outing to the mall or to get something to eat.
I remember throwing myself and the feet of my friend - the one who was my twin, the one who I was in love with - and screaming to him to help me. It was raining. He sat on the steps of his dorm praying, while I wallowed in my own tears and the mud in the field in front of him. He left my life at that moment. I know that because he didn't know what to do - so he didn't do anything. Somewhere around that time, we were coming back from an overnight at a friend's house. I drove him back to his dorm. He never spoke to me again. We passed each other by on campus, but never said a word. It was like we had never even met. About a year later, the week before he graduated, he stopped me on the street; said he was sorry. I said OK. And I haven't heard from him since. It has been over 7 years.
I'm sorry I can't give you a complete and detailed story of this time of my life. But that it the point. My secrets had caught up with me. The moment I had always dreaded had come. Now it was out there for everyone to see - I was nothing. I was NOT smart. I was NOT funny. I was NOT spiritual. I was NOT strong. I was NOT lovable. I was not anything I had pretended to be all those years. I had lost control and now my life was quickly spiralling to its end.
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1 Peter 1:6-7 In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire - may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Yeshua (Jesus) the Messiah is revealed.
*I'll start by telling you, "I don't remember." It is important for you to understand, I have lost parts of my memory based on the story you are about to hear. So, it might seem incoherent, obscure and mangled, but it is what it is.*
During my third year in school, I lived alone in my apartment. My friends started noticing something was wrong with me. Sometimes I didn't show up for class. Sometimes I didn't call them. But I was always a bit unpredictable, so no one really said anything. I felt something going on, but I didn't know what it was. I was sad...a LOT. I would cry every time I was alone. I didn't want to go to class. I was getting behind in all my work and feeling pressured, overloaded. Migraines were a norm now. My new couple of friends who lived down the hall would come over to find me vomiting on the floor. I was becoming a recluse and no one knew why, including me.
At the same time, I was good at my own bluff. I was youth/music director for a small church, always preparing and doing stuff with the kids. I pulled my friends in to help and they always said it was a blast. But this thing was tugging at me. During music practice one day, I just broke down. During choir, I would frequently have to excuse myself in crying fits. During concerts, I would sit down among the sea of black performance outfits and huddle into my own mind. During classes, I would keep my head buried in a book or my own notes would drift off into nonsense.
My constant frame of mind consisted of: "I am worthless. I am ugly. I'm in pain. I am useless. I am weak. I can't stop crying. I am dumb. I can't sing. I'm unlovable. I'm sad. I'm a sinner. What's wrong with me? I am losing my mind...." My friends experienced the worst of me - coming over to my place and it would be a wreck; a week's worth of dirty dishes piled up, clothes scattered everywhere and me in a trance on the couch in front of the TV. I didn't know what day it was. Didn't remember if I had slept or eaten or even taken a shower. Sometimes I would do things 3 or 4 times in a row because I couldn't remember if I had already done it. I would either sleep for days at a time, or not sleep at all. I couldn't remember when I had class. I couldn't hardly make myself go when I did remember. I could just imagine everyone looking at me when I walked in - and I just couldn't show my face. I was invited to a very special wedding one weekend, where we had to sit in the front row. At the reception, I found the furthest wall away from the action. I literally glued myself up against it while I shook with fear of every person in that room. My friend was with me who noticed I wasn't well and took me home.
I'll never forget the day that one of my friends became the truest of them all. We were in bowling class together. I was studying for a test for my next class. But I was so stressed out, I couldn't' see the words in the book for all of my tears. "N" came over to me. How I love him for what he was about to do to me. He asked me why I was crying. I told him I was about to fail a test and I couldn't miss any more classes because I had already missed so many. He looked me straight in the eyes and said: "Rachel, you are going to the school's psychologist and I am taking you right now." I was so mad at him at that moment, but he wasn't backing down. He literally dragged me up to the third floor of the student center where everything became clear.
The psychologist gave me a depression test - usually scores can be up to 15 points or so, though a normal score would be 5-10. I scored a 42. He told me I was clinically depressed and needed to be admitted to the diagnostic program of the psychiatric ward in the capital of our state. I refused. I told him I was fine. I had no family anywhere nearby and all I had at school were my friends and I was not about to leave them. So, he forced me to sign a contract that I would continue coming to see him and to seek out medical help to put me on antidepressants.
The next phase is so blurry to me. But what I can tell you is that 3 doctor's were put on my case. They started me with a normal dosage of a light antidepressant. They kept raising the dosage, but nothing happened. They would change me from one to another, raising dosages and eventually started mixing drugs. I became quite familiar with: prozac, wellbutrin, zoloft, serzone and paxil. At one point, I was taking 4 of these at the same time. I gained and lost weight quite regularly. My appetite would increase and decrease daily. And, I started to really lose my memory. The idea of self mutilation and suicide became a constant.
I remember my parents finding out. They came to visit me and I was shaking all over. They went to the psychologist with me and he forced me to show them my forearms which I had cut and scratched and left obvious scars. I remember just becoming even more sad because now I was hurting them too.
I remember being up late at night wondering if this would be the night I would really do it - I would really commit suicide. But most of the time, some friend would come by and distract me with an outing to the mall or to get something to eat.
I remember throwing myself and the feet of my friend - the one who was my twin, the one who I was in love with - and screaming to him to help me. It was raining. He sat on the steps of his dorm praying, while I wallowed in my own tears and the mud in the field in front of him. He left my life at that moment. I know that because he didn't know what to do - so he didn't do anything. Somewhere around that time, we were coming back from an overnight at a friend's house. I drove him back to his dorm. He never spoke to me again. We passed each other by on campus, but never said a word. It was like we had never even met. About a year later, the week before he graduated, he stopped me on the street; said he was sorry. I said OK. And I haven't heard from him since. It has been over 7 years.
I'm sorry I can't give you a complete and detailed story of this time of my life. But that it the point. My secrets had caught up with me. The moment I had always dreaded had come. Now it was out there for everyone to see - I was nothing. I was NOT smart. I was NOT funny. I was NOT spiritual. I was NOT strong. I was NOT lovable. I was not anything I had pretended to be all those years. I had lost control and now my life was quickly spiralling to its end.
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1 Peter 1:6-7 In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire - may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Yeshua (Jesus) the Messiah is revealed.
The Process of Sin - Part II (In Hiding)
*This is a continuation of the telling of my life story - previous posts in this story can be found from Dec 05-May 06.*
I had made it. It was a tough road, but I graduated High School (the second semester of college) and was now in the groove at my university. My parents were back living overseas and the closest family members I had were states away. But here, I had made some really fun friends. People who were calm, easy-going, not stressed out and just fun to be with. Actually, to me, that in and of itself was a big accomplishment. I had always created so much drama around me and had befriended people who were the same way, that it was nice to be part of this fun-loving group. And I can honestly say, I loved them. I still do. But as comfortable as I was, I was still in hiding. I was hiding a terrible secret. I was definitely hiding it from my family. I was even hiding it from this group of friends. I was trying to hide it from myself. But that moment came every night...when I would lay my head down on my pillow....I ran from this moment.....there were countless nights I wouldn't even allow myself to lay down until I knew I would go straight to sleep....all out of fear of this moment....the moment when the secret came out of the closet in my mind to haunt me.
I had been around the block, so to speak, the first year or so of college. I had some make-out sessions here and there and didn't think much of it. Girls will be girls....I was just being normal, right? I mean, my roomate was talking about marrying her boyfriend. My suitemates were all in relationships. This was just normal.
By my second year, I had found my little, but secure niche. We were a group of 4 - two girls and two guys. We had other friends who we would hang out with from time to time, but we were the core of our group. Three of us were in dorm rooms, so we would always go hang out at our friends' apartments. We were always together. But there was one who I was particularly fond of - in the beginning, it was a sincere and complete friendship. We were 2 peas in a pod. We did EVERYTHING together. We laughed at the same movies, ate the same food, told the same kinds of stories. Sometimes I still cry, remembering how beautiful it was to have such a friendship. But old habits die hard. I started to obsess over something more than a friendship with him.
I knew me. I knew how much I had always longed for affection. The funny thing is, the only time in our relationship that we ever had anything romantic was at the very beginning, the first week we met. But it fizzled out and we recognized how much we just wanted to be friends. I thought I would be ok with that, but living most every moment with this guy was like provoking the "old" me to come out and fight. The "old" me was the one who was sick, who was perverted, who tried to commit suicide at 15 (in my room with a pocket knife). I wasn't that person anymore, I COULDN'T BE that person anymore. I couldn't risk this wonderful friendship for desires of my past. So, I tried to keep silent, but my actions spoke louder. Everyone who knew me, KNEW I was in love with my friend. And I think he knew it too. He just didn't say anything.
I supressed my beast......"NO, I do not want to date my best friend. NO, I do not want to get sad about my life. NO, I do not want to quit living. NO, NO, NO!!!" I tried to beat it down within me. I tried to pray it away. I tried to distract myself with plenty of activities and school. I took up to 21 hours of classes (12 is the minimum, 15 is the norm). I had concerts, recitals, papers, exams. I was strong now.....look where I had come from. "There is NO WAY I am giving into weakness. I am NOT weak!"
Here's where it gets hairy. Here is where my memory starts to fail. Here is where the rubber met the road - life or death - and I couldn't supress it anymore...the secret was coming to the surface and there was nothing I could do to hold it back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ephesians 5:15-16 Be careful, then, how you live - not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.
*This is a continuation of the telling of my life story - previous posts in this story can be found from Dec 05-May 06.*
I had made it. It was a tough road, but I graduated High School (the second semester of college) and was now in the groove at my university. My parents were back living overseas and the closest family members I had were states away. But here, I had made some really fun friends. People who were calm, easy-going, not stressed out and just fun to be with. Actually, to me, that in and of itself was a big accomplishment. I had always created so much drama around me and had befriended people who were the same way, that it was nice to be part of this fun-loving group. And I can honestly say, I loved them. I still do. But as comfortable as I was, I was still in hiding. I was hiding a terrible secret. I was definitely hiding it from my family. I was even hiding it from this group of friends. I was trying to hide it from myself. But that moment came every night...when I would lay my head down on my pillow....I ran from this moment.....there were countless nights I wouldn't even allow myself to lay down until I knew I would go straight to sleep....all out of fear of this moment....the moment when the secret came out of the closet in my mind to haunt me.
I had been around the block, so to speak, the first year or so of college. I had some make-out sessions here and there and didn't think much of it. Girls will be girls....I was just being normal, right? I mean, my roomate was talking about marrying her boyfriend. My suitemates were all in relationships. This was just normal.
By my second year, I had found my little, but secure niche. We were a group of 4 - two girls and two guys. We had other friends who we would hang out with from time to time, but we were the core of our group. Three of us were in dorm rooms, so we would always go hang out at our friends' apartments. We were always together. But there was one who I was particularly fond of - in the beginning, it was a sincere and complete friendship. We were 2 peas in a pod. We did EVERYTHING together. We laughed at the same movies, ate the same food, told the same kinds of stories. Sometimes I still cry, remembering how beautiful it was to have such a friendship. But old habits die hard. I started to obsess over something more than a friendship with him.
I knew me. I knew how much I had always longed for affection. The funny thing is, the only time in our relationship that we ever had anything romantic was at the very beginning, the first week we met. But it fizzled out and we recognized how much we just wanted to be friends. I thought I would be ok with that, but living most every moment with this guy was like provoking the "old" me to come out and fight. The "old" me was the one who was sick, who was perverted, who tried to commit suicide at 15 (in my room with a pocket knife). I wasn't that person anymore, I COULDN'T BE that person anymore. I couldn't risk this wonderful friendship for desires of my past. So, I tried to keep silent, but my actions spoke louder. Everyone who knew me, KNEW I was in love with my friend. And I think he knew it too. He just didn't say anything.
I supressed my beast......"NO, I do not want to date my best friend. NO, I do not want to get sad about my life. NO, I do not want to quit living. NO, NO, NO!!!" I tried to beat it down within me. I tried to pray it away. I tried to distract myself with plenty of activities and school. I took up to 21 hours of classes (12 is the minimum, 15 is the norm). I had concerts, recitals, papers, exams. I was strong now.....look where I had come from. "There is NO WAY I am giving into weakness. I am NOT weak!"
Here's where it gets hairy. Here is where my memory starts to fail. Here is where the rubber met the road - life or death - and I couldn't supress it anymore...the secret was coming to the surface and there was nothing I could do to hold it back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ephesians 5:15-16 Be careful, then, how you live - not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
I love those epic movies about some war that had to be fought. All the soldiers go in with their sword and their courage, and the few, strong and brave see it though to the end. I never really stopped to think about the feeling they might have after winning a war. Yeah, you won, good. But in the process, hundreds or thousands of people lost their lives and there is a HUGE mess to be cleaned up. So, was the cause really worth the price? Is the victory worth the battle?
Well, anyway, I just came out on the other side of one of my own battles. It wasn't fought on a grassy knoll with swords or spears. It wasn't against an army of painted warriors. It wasn't really even life or death. It was not funny. It was not within the 20-min time frame. And, I don't want to hit rewind to see it again.
Nonetheless, it was a battle that needed to be fought. I had to muster up enough courage to see it through. And even though I am a little worn and torn, I can confidently tell you: Yes, it was worth the price. When we have to fight against the armies inside of us and inside of relationships we have created, we have to be prepared for a tough battle. Battling ourselves on our own terms with our own acknowledgement is maybe one of the toughest battles there is. Because the enemy doesn't die (at least not yet). The enemy in our minds and will is still there. And we know we will have to face it again. Thankfully, my strength is not my own - it was lovingly loaned to me for such times as these. So, it was worth the price, for the simple fact that I did it. And I am walking away from a bloodied field that will etch itself into my mind for the rest of my life as a reminder to not walk that way again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Col. 1:21-23a Once you were alienated from GOD and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Messiah's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation– if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven
Well, anyway, I just came out on the other side of one of my own battles. It wasn't fought on a grassy knoll with swords or spears. It wasn't against an army of painted warriors. It wasn't really even life or death. It was not funny. It was not within the 20-min time frame. And, I don't want to hit rewind to see it again.
Nonetheless, it was a battle that needed to be fought. I had to muster up enough courage to see it through. And even though I am a little worn and torn, I can confidently tell you: Yes, it was worth the price. When we have to fight against the armies inside of us and inside of relationships we have created, we have to be prepared for a tough battle. Battling ourselves on our own terms with our own acknowledgement is maybe one of the toughest battles there is. Because the enemy doesn't die (at least not yet). The enemy in our minds and will is still there. And we know we will have to face it again. Thankfully, my strength is not my own - it was lovingly loaned to me for such times as these. So, it was worth the price, for the simple fact that I did it. And I am walking away from a bloodied field that will etch itself into my mind for the rest of my life as a reminder to not walk that way again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Col. 1:21-23a Once you were alienated from GOD and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Messiah's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation– if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
The 3 Sins of the Everyday American
*Allow me preface these thoughts by saying, I do classify myself in this category (Everyday American) - at least in this instance.
I have just been thinking lately about what kinds of "black holes" we get pulled into, at least in our society. And this is what I see:
1. lack of interest
2. poor communication
3. failure to take responsibility
I feel like most of the "injustices" that occur in this culture are somehow related to these ideas. And I catch myself in them quite frequently.
LACK OF INTEREST: Now, don't get me wrong, we are very interested...in ourselves. We have every kind of self-help book possible, it is a common occurrence for someone to regularly see a psychologist/life coach/clergy for personal problems. And the amount of money we pour into unnecessary medical procedures, cosmetics, appearance (clothes and hair), diet and exercise programs (that we rarely actually use) is absurd. But true interest (spending time and effort) in G-d, scripture and other people (yes, even those who are not our immediate family or close friends) is far too little and inconsistent. We are generally not interested in the important life or death issues that surround us daily. What a shame.
POOR COMMUNICATION: OK, now, I am a witness to the fact that most people I know my age (college/young adult) are abundantly better at communicating what we really want to say than those who preceded us, but that is not my point. We have specialized the art of communicating what best serves us and not the absolute truth. We use communication to protect ourselves and hopefully "outtalk" the other person, so that the end of the conversation will prove our beginning point. We also spend way too much time justifying our actions instead of hearing out the other person's true feelings ...and sometimes, even our own true feelings. What a shame.
FAILURE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY: This ties into the previous idea of justifying ourselves and our actions. But it entails more. We have this very scary idea that we are victims of circumstance. "I am this way because of: my parents, my upbringing, my financial situation, my job, my enemies, the enemy....." We could keep that up forever. There will always be a multitude of outside influences to blame our actions on - but those are generally not to blame. We are responsible for our "yeses" and "nos." We make the decisions of how we will live, and contrary to popular belief, I believe we make the decisions on how people will perceive us. No, we cannot be held responsible for what decisions people make in their own minds, but we are responsible for the decisions we make daily that affect their perceptions. Anyway, I digress. I have noticed, at least in the little world that I live in, that people generally do not want to take responsibility for something that their decisions/actions made happen. What a shame.
So, I feel shamed now. I don't mean to make you feel shamed. But, I do like to see the reality of who I am, so that I can make the all too important decisions of changing - -for, behold, HE comes.
*Allow me preface these thoughts by saying, I do classify myself in this category (Everyday American) - at least in this instance.
I have just been thinking lately about what kinds of "black holes" we get pulled into, at least in our society. And this is what I see:
1. lack of interest
2. poor communication
3. failure to take responsibility
I feel like most of the "injustices" that occur in this culture are somehow related to these ideas. And I catch myself in them quite frequently.
LACK OF INTEREST: Now, don't get me wrong, we are very interested...in ourselves. We have every kind of self-help book possible, it is a common occurrence for someone to regularly see a psychologist/life coach/clergy for personal problems. And the amount of money we pour into unnecessary medical procedures, cosmetics, appearance (clothes and hair), diet and exercise programs (that we rarely actually use) is absurd. But true interest (spending time and effort) in G-d, scripture and other people (yes, even those who are not our immediate family or close friends) is far too little and inconsistent. We are generally not interested in the important life or death issues that surround us daily. What a shame.
POOR COMMUNICATION: OK, now, I am a witness to the fact that most people I know my age (college/young adult) are abundantly better at communicating what we really want to say than those who preceded us, but that is not my point. We have specialized the art of communicating what best serves us and not the absolute truth. We use communication to protect ourselves and hopefully "outtalk" the other person, so that the end of the conversation will prove our beginning point. We also spend way too much time justifying our actions instead of hearing out the other person's true feelings ...and sometimes, even our own true feelings. What a shame.
FAILURE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY: This ties into the previous idea of justifying ourselves and our actions. But it entails more. We have this very scary idea that we are victims of circumstance. "I am this way because of: my parents, my upbringing, my financial situation, my job, my enemies, the enemy....." We could keep that up forever. There will always be a multitude of outside influences to blame our actions on - but those are generally not to blame. We are responsible for our "yeses" and "nos." We make the decisions of how we will live, and contrary to popular belief, I believe we make the decisions on how people will perceive us. No, we cannot be held responsible for what decisions people make in their own minds, but we are responsible for the decisions we make daily that affect their perceptions. Anyway, I digress. I have noticed, at least in the little world that I live in, that people generally do not want to take responsibility for something that their decisions/actions made happen. What a shame.
So, I feel shamed now. I don't mean to make you feel shamed. But, I do like to see the reality of who I am, so that I can make the all too important decisions of changing - -for, behold, HE comes.
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