Christ_empowered
Member
Hey again. Its me. I find that The Lord is improving my life and changing me, day by day. Step #1 is to get lucid and stay lucid. I am increasingly lucid, praise God (!!!!). The people at the clinic keep talking about Bipolar I with heavy psychosis that's been lingering, despite meds. Now, at long last, I find that the mild auditory hallucinations are vastly improved. When I do hear voices, they're strangely muffled, and its easier to understand that they come from my mind and that they're probably rooted in my own experiences and thought processes. Recovering from "treatment" (read: a miraculous rebound from 2 rounds of heavy, involuntary shock) has changed my outlook.
You'd think that being heavily shocked would make the madness go away, but it didn't, at least not for me. I was just simple-minded AND crazy, plus semi-vegetative in a lot of respects. Now, my raw intelligence is back, my writing abilities have improved (I'd like to thank people here for letting me write my manic depressive heart out...I get kudos on my writing at school now), and suddenly...with meds, counseling, my people, and knowledge of and growing faith in Christ, the mental problems are easier to deal with. I get the sense that my problems are only a part of my life now.
I still get paranoid. People in the neighborhood are cruel. "I'm calling your probation officer!," "hate to tell you, but you got felony charges," etc. Welcome to the real world, I suppose. Oh well. I'm blessed...my dad got me a good attorney, so now I have a (serious) misdemeanor. Of course, very few people around here believe me or even listen to what I say (not that they talk to me, anyway; they pretty much just talk at me or yell at me). Oh well. My (Born Again, M.Div) counselor listens to me, and I think he sees genuine progress. I never thought, after all my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad experiences w/ Mental Health, Inc. that I'd care so much what a counselor thought of me...but I do, largely because he actually (gasp) seems to care and is remarkably insightful.
I see my probation officer tomorrow. I'm nervous. I haven't done anything, but I get nervous because...well, being an "uppity mental patient" doesn't go over well 'round here. I'm considered "uppity" because I live with my parents, drive a good car (nothing fancy, just a decent new-to-me vehicle), wear decent clothes and good shoes (its The South; be selective about the footwear, y'all), and generally...mind my own business and do my own thing. My freedom--which comes courtesy of Christ--is a problem for people around here. I've overheard people (almost always men) saying "well, I guess he just does whatever the h!ll he wants to." Men, in particular, are openly aggressive towards me and cruel to me. I was flamboyantly gay and all that, and now...well, thanks to Christ, I'm much more masculine and normal. Even my face is more masculine, which makes me wonder if some of my "psychological" problems had a hormonal basis or something. Oh well. Nobody really cares why a flamer's a flamer.
Verna, my older, wiser, Pentecostal friend, is helping me, as always. Her Christian wisdom and advice and (incredible) patience has made a world of difference in my life. I've also learned to listen to her, and her problems, and now I think I can be a genuine friend to other Born Again Christians. See, before, I never had real friends. Girls and later women felt sorry for me (button nosed flamer) and men...well, they'd be friendly because the girls liked me. That works until you hit 24/25, then its game over. "F@ggots don't matter," as the men next door like to say (often). Yeah. Reality, bites.
But now I can do the friendship give-and-take and I care about others and...yeah. God is good (all the time). Jesus saves, and He also changes His children (thank God). I wonder where my life is going, what I am to do, and then I realize: I'm blessed all over. No, life isn't easy for me, but its much easier than it could be and would be, were it not for Christ. Many "mental patients" with my backstory, who did what I did and also were treated how I was treated, are not even in society. I am "in the world, but not of it," a verse that applies at a number of levels. I live comfortably, but I can't get a job. I'm not a member of the community, but I live here, anyway. I don't matter to the community around me, but I matter to my (thankfully, more "high status") parents. At least...I matter enough to them for them to protect me, house me, all that good stuff. With disability, I don't think I cost them all that much. I hope not, anyway.
Ugh. I've rambled. Its strange...stigma, labels, being a pariah. I can't complain--I mean, I live comfortably and I even get to go to school online--but...I am definitely "The Other" in this community. I'm subject to a lot of scrutiny, but also often disregarded and ignored. The severely mentally ill, in general, don't matter to people...I see that now. For all this talk of "reducing stigma," etc., it seems that many "professionals" inside Mental Health, Inc. only care about $$$ and control. Its frightening, really. I'm blessed that Jesus came to set the captives free...
And I'm done. For now.
You'd think that being heavily shocked would make the madness go away, but it didn't, at least not for me. I was just simple-minded AND crazy, plus semi-vegetative in a lot of respects. Now, my raw intelligence is back, my writing abilities have improved (I'd like to thank people here for letting me write my manic depressive heart out...I get kudos on my writing at school now), and suddenly...with meds, counseling, my people, and knowledge of and growing faith in Christ, the mental problems are easier to deal with. I get the sense that my problems are only a part of my life now.
I still get paranoid. People in the neighborhood are cruel. "I'm calling your probation officer!," "hate to tell you, but you got felony charges," etc. Welcome to the real world, I suppose. Oh well. I'm blessed...my dad got me a good attorney, so now I have a (serious) misdemeanor. Of course, very few people around here believe me or even listen to what I say (not that they talk to me, anyway; they pretty much just talk at me or yell at me). Oh well. My (Born Again, M.Div) counselor listens to me, and I think he sees genuine progress. I never thought, after all my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad experiences w/ Mental Health, Inc. that I'd care so much what a counselor thought of me...but I do, largely because he actually (gasp) seems to care and is remarkably insightful.
I see my probation officer tomorrow. I'm nervous. I haven't done anything, but I get nervous because...well, being an "uppity mental patient" doesn't go over well 'round here. I'm considered "uppity" because I live with my parents, drive a good car (nothing fancy, just a decent new-to-me vehicle), wear decent clothes and good shoes (its The South; be selective about the footwear, y'all), and generally...mind my own business and do my own thing. My freedom--which comes courtesy of Christ--is a problem for people around here. I've overheard people (almost always men) saying "well, I guess he just does whatever the h!ll he wants to." Men, in particular, are openly aggressive towards me and cruel to me. I was flamboyantly gay and all that, and now...well, thanks to Christ, I'm much more masculine and normal. Even my face is more masculine, which makes me wonder if some of my "psychological" problems had a hormonal basis or something. Oh well. Nobody really cares why a flamer's a flamer.
Verna, my older, wiser, Pentecostal friend, is helping me, as always. Her Christian wisdom and advice and (incredible) patience has made a world of difference in my life. I've also learned to listen to her, and her problems, and now I think I can be a genuine friend to other Born Again Christians. See, before, I never had real friends. Girls and later women felt sorry for me (button nosed flamer) and men...well, they'd be friendly because the girls liked me. That works until you hit 24/25, then its game over. "F@ggots don't matter," as the men next door like to say (often). Yeah. Reality, bites.
But now I can do the friendship give-and-take and I care about others and...yeah. God is good (all the time). Jesus saves, and He also changes His children (thank God). I wonder where my life is going, what I am to do, and then I realize: I'm blessed all over. No, life isn't easy for me, but its much easier than it could be and would be, were it not for Christ. Many "mental patients" with my backstory, who did what I did and also were treated how I was treated, are not even in society. I am "in the world, but not of it," a verse that applies at a number of levels. I live comfortably, but I can't get a job. I'm not a member of the community, but I live here, anyway. I don't matter to the community around me, but I matter to my (thankfully, more "high status") parents. At least...I matter enough to them for them to protect me, house me, all that good stuff. With disability, I don't think I cost them all that much. I hope not, anyway.
Ugh. I've rambled. Its strange...stigma, labels, being a pariah. I can't complain--I mean, I live comfortably and I even get to go to school online--but...I am definitely "The Other" in this community. I'm subject to a lot of scrutiny, but also often disregarded and ignored. The severely mentally ill, in general, don't matter to people...I see that now. For all this talk of "reducing stigma," etc., it seems that many "professionals" inside Mental Health, Inc. only care about $$$ and control. Its frightening, really. I'm blessed that Jesus came to set the captives free...
And I'm done. For now.
