An Undeserved Kindness

The story that the sermon at my church was based on this morning was the story of the Good Samaritan. Many people know this story, about a man who was beaten and left for half dead. Two men pass by him. Then a Samaritan comes and helps him, showing mercy and love to him.

I was thinking about the message today and I realized that I don't think I realized how much mercy plays a role in my day to day life of being paranoid and schizophrenic.

The whole world is after me. The man sitting next to me is part of the FBI and they're watching my every move. They even had people follow me to my apartment so they know where I live. The man next to him on the other side is taking pictures of me, to help track me down. The more evidence, the better. The woman on the other side of me is mad at me for some reason, I mean, really angry... REALLY angry. She is glaring at me and staring at me. Everybody in the world is mad at me. Everybody hates me. I'm a nobody... scratch that, LESS than a nobody. I'm not even human. Why don't they do what I'm expecting them to do and throw me in the lake with the gators?

If you've ever wondered what day to day life with paranoia is like, the paragraph above is how I experience it. The paranoia and psychosis work together to create a cobweb of lies, doubt and terror.

I've come out of psychotic breaks three times now. Each time, there comes a point when I realize that nobody's after me and most of the things I had seen and thought were unreal. When I come out of a psychotic episode, I am relieved to find out the truth. I feel the merciful grace of God come into my life as I realize that I am safe and that I am going to be okay. It's a huge turning point in my disorders. It's also a huge relief. 

Nobody should live a life of terror.

To me, mercy is when we are expecting the worst thing imaginable and then it does not come. It's like living in terror but then a feeling of restoration and refreshment comes in instead. It is undeserved kindness and peace.

Flower in the Mud

When I was growing up, someone close to me referred to me as a "flower in the mud."

What does it mean to be a "flower in the mud?"
I think it means that we find our beauty despite the tragedies around us. We grow and thrive despite setbacks and failures. We know who we are and we are confident. We may bend in the wind and the challenges that surround us, but we never break or fall completely over. We stand our ground.

As I heal from many years of abuse and neglect and as I move forward despite multiple mental illnesses, it's important to remember the beauty in the fight. To fight through and rise above what God has brought into my life is a tremendous feat but there is a lot of beauty in the struggle.

I have taken quite a few photos of flowers around town and I want to share them. Flowers are quite remarkable- how something so beautiful can grow even in the mud. It is awesome how different they are.

Embrace the beauty in the simple... Embrace the different... Embrace the struggle.

Beauty in Imperfections

I want to share something that I don't usually share with people or talk about. It's something that runs deep within...

I feel ugly.

I feel like one of the most imperfect people there is.

I am very self conscious.

I don't even like to look at myself in the mirror most of the time.

A lot of this stems from the abuse from my childhood and the shame that goes along with it. I grew up being taught not to care about myself. I was taught to be used and thrown away. I was taught over and over that I'm worthless trash. I grew up in a poor family that couldn't afford dental care or other things to make me look better. We could never afford braces and we still can't. The first time I was taught to put makeup on was a few days before going to college. I was neglected at a prime time for a girl to grow up and learn those types of things.

A few weeks ago, I went to a friend's house and a neighbor's young girl came over and the first thing she said to me was "You are beautiful no matter what." I don't know why she said that to me but it ran deep inside. It made me feel so different than how I usually feel... better.

Why do we tend to neglect the beauty in the simple things when we grow up? Why do we start to judge so easily?

Sometimes we don't feel perfect, because, let's face it, we're not! We have imperfections running through our very veins. We have feelings inside of us that need healing. But what we can take away is that although we are not perfect, we have a God who is and he makes us beautiful...

For you created my inmost being;
 you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

-Psalm 139:13 (NIV)

So stand tall and be who you are. Because nobody can be you...

A Healing Journey

My paranoia is nonexistent currently. It feels so great. A lot of people say "it gets worse before it gets better" and that was very true of my experience. Late last week was the worse and it was a few days after starting my new medication. I was paranoid, psychotic AND depressed. My PTSD symptoms were crazy too. I was so close to a hospitalization that I nearly called my mom to tell her I was going.

But I stuck in and the medications finally kicked in... And all is good with the world again.

Yesterday, I was talking to someone about the child abuse that I endured for a good part of my life. They were trying to tell me that it's not my fault that I let it happen. But so easily, I want to blame myself. For goodness sake, it happened for 7 years. I feel like I should have stopped it. To someone else, I think it's confusing that I blame myself so much.

It's so much easier for me to look at someone else in a similar situation and say it wasn't their fault- that it never should have happened. But for me, I carry a ton of shame and blame from it.

I think it goes into the fact that I've been practically brainwashed by my main abuser. He told me constantly that it was my fault. He even emailed me a few years ago saying I was a fraud and that I was messing up the family. I was yelled at by my aunt at my brother's wake. Meanwhile, my brother has PTSD from watching me be abused.

Oh, and I made my brother have PTSD? I just somehow brainwashed him? Put things in his head?

My abuser has even told me he would sue the hospitals and therapists I've seen for "brainwashing" me.

A part of me is livid. That part wants him to pay for my suffering. But another part of me is full of shame.

Moving forward, I want to continue to heal from all the trauma I've been through. I don't know how I will heal, I just know I will. Because I've fought through everything that's come my way and I'm not about to let go now.

Last night at Bible study, we were asked to create a "Life Rule" and mine was...

Always move forward and help others along the way.

It's about not getting stuck in the past, but moving forward. I also think it's imperative that we help others along on our journey. This life is not just about us. It is about what we can do for others. It's about sharing our journey with others. Each of us has difficulties, so we each have important things to share.

Not Ashamed

My paranoia has been going away the past few days and I feel myself coming back to my normal state. Paranoia is terrifying and takes you away from "normal." It puts you in a state of constant, uncontrollable fear and dread. Every interaction with others is full of fear. It took all of me to go to work, because the paranoia even invaded my job, although I tried to hide it as much as possible.

Today marks three months since I got out of my last hospitalization. With 5 hospitalizations in the last 10 months, this is the longest stretch of time I've had out of the hospital since my move to Florida. It is refreshing and encouraging. Even though I've dealt with intense paranoia and psychosis while out of the hospital, I've been able to maintain my new job and move forward through therapy and meeting with my psychiatrist. 

I've been able to move forward despite the challenges.

If anything, I wish that more people knew what it was like to have a mental illness or were at least more aware of what it's like. People are all too quick to judge someone with mental illness and sometimes that's because it's kind of an "invisible" disability. Even though it's "invisible," it can have devastating consequences on someone's life. 

I would never wish it upon anybody, but I wish there was more understanding. I've been vocal about my disorders because I'm not ashamed. It's not my fault that I have mental illnesses. They are very challenging and I am proud of how far I've come. I am proud that I've lived on my own and fully financially supported myself for the past year. My mental illnesses are extremely difficult at times, especially when I feel alone because nobody understands, but I take every day as it comes.

I'm not ashamed to be mentally ill.

God created me with the mental illnesses and so I am going to live to the best of my ability and shine His light in the darkness on this earth.

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made"

-Psalm 139:14(NIV)

Lifting the Stigmas

So just like that... the paranoia has lifted. The fog is gone.

I saw some people licking their lips but it doesn't really phase me anymore. I just moved on. I think part of my success is the new medication kicking in and the other part of it has been therapy, working through the paranoid thoughts.

People know I'm vocal about my disorders. I don't think people should have to be ashamed of having mental illness. There is nothing shameful about having a misbalance in the chemicals in the brain, the most complex organ in our bodies. For me, I have come across many stigmas dealing with mental illness. But fortunately, they haven't stopped me from getting help.

I think all too much, stigmas have stopped many people from getting the help they need. It is annoying at times that many other disorders or diseases have no stigmas, but if I tell someone I have mental illness, they suddenly turn away. It's like people want to run away from me; I have an adult case of the cooties.

Mental illness is not something to make fun of or run away from. It can be devastating. But with proper help, it can be treated. With therapy and medications, I have stayed out of the hospital for almost 3 months, despite having bad paranoia and PTSD. I am moving forward in a lot of ways.

If you care about mental illness or people with it, please watch this video I found yesterday and share it with others. We have a voice and together, we can fight the stigmas.

To Be Welcomed

Today was a better day than most I've had lately.

I had therapy early this morning. I talked to my therapist about the fact that people keep licking their lips or sticking their tongue out at me, making me paranoid. Most of the conversation was her reiterating that the probability that all these strangers are aiming at me is highly unlikely. If they are sticking their tongues out at me, then there is something wrong with them, not me. She said I probably am more susceptible to focusing on it because of my PTSD.

I went to work after therapy and I saw only a few people stick out their tongue. But what was new was that I didn't become paranoid from it. I think this is because my therapist/psychologist practically nailed it into my mind how unlikely it is that others are doing it at me. I also think it's because I didn't go anywhere on Saturday so my paranoia was nonexistent. It gave my mind time to cool down.

She told me that I have social anxiety. I have to say that I agree with that. It takes all of me to go to social events and I only usually go if I have an escape route, some way to leave early if I feel uncomfortable. At social events, I usually stand or sit alone. I'm not good at small talk. Never have been. I either want to talk about deep things or just not talk. Small talk for me is awkward. Unnatural.

If I had my way, I would live at the lake... alone. Just me and God.

But that's not reality. The reality is that I have to face my fears and get up and meet the day. I need to meet the challenges I've been given. The fact is that I need to be with others, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me.

I don't think anybody truly knows how much it means to have someone sit down next to me at church or another event or how much it means to be given a hug and welcomed. As someone who feels somewhat of an outcast, it means the world. 

It means the world to be welcomed...