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[__ Prayer __] another Praise report!

Yes, its true; now and then, I post about good+positive things, lol.

Seriously, though...my parents are out of town. Now, I'll soon be 32, so...this really shouldn't be a big deal. Problem is, I have "severe mental illness" (some flavor Bipolar I in my case) and I'm highly stigmatized in a small, southern town. As those of you who read my (many) posts on all this know, people around here in general, especially in this neighborhood, like to yell at me and fun stuff like that. Plus, more than once, I've heard people talking/yelling late at night...and it sounded very close, like they were in the yard (my bedroom is on the 1st floor). My favorite was when some dude with a deep voice and a creepy sounding southern drawl said "he's got 6 months to live!" outside my room at 1ish in the AM. Fun times, lol. That was a couple years ago...

God is good. I'm not freaking out. I --do-- listen to music thru my phone when I'm outside. I just...I don't wanna hear what these people have to say. I've been forced to listen to it for too long already, in my opinion. I'd much rather listen to Nina Simone than deal with neighborhood bullies. Having said that...

...yeah, I'm not freaking out. As usual, I mind my own business. I water the plants, check the mail, get the paper, walk the little house dogs 2x per day, make sure the outdoor cats don't die...no big thing. God has been, and is being, good to me. A big reason I don't freak out is because my parents seem to have forgiven me (despite...everything...), because of Christ's work in my life. That's another topic, but...living as an unforgiven offspring is rough. I get where my parents were coming from, but...it takes a toll. Now that they've forgiven me and we're moving forward, my "mental state" has improved a whole lot, too.

Lucidity helps, too. Gotta say this for The Miracle Meds...they get the job done. I still deal with some voices, but I can tolerate it better. That's whats so interesting about tranquilizers/antipsychotics...for me, at least, Abilify has cut down a lot of the more severe problems, and the ones that remain are easier to handle...because I'm not agitated, severely depressed, etc. etc. etc. Plus, tranquilizers seem to make it easier to spot things coming from my mind and then think "well, why do I have these thoughts coming out as voices?," and that actually sparks some productive prayer and reflection.

Before I Christ blessed me with recovery...lucidity...and sufficient intelligence to pursue my goals...I was an easy target. Even without all the labels and stigma, I was an easy target. I'm labeled as "Schizophrenic" in the community, which apparently means I'm supposed to be living a certain way (not the way I'm living now, it seems), blah blah blah...I'm getting to the point, by God's grace, that I can brush it off. That's how this community works, I guess...small southern towns have their outcasts, and I'm the #1 pariah 'round here. Nothing personal, I suppose.

Now, its...interesting...I'm still stigmatized and low status, but my now "genteel" people take good care of me. That's one thing that bothers me...how in The Bible Belt ("1,000 miles wide, 1 inch deep") social class seems to be a bigger issue than in other places. My parents were middle-middle class, now they're somewhere higher on the totem pole, and that's apparently a huge deal around here. I'm happy for them, and they've blessed me with their resources and such, so...that's good...but it bothers me how class conscious southerners are, compared to people in some other parts of the country (and world, I would assume+hope). Around here, it seems to work like this: back in the day, my people were "respectable," so I came from a "nice family." Now, they're somewhere above respectable, and I now hail from a "good family." I'm blessed...and my people are blessed that their years upon years of hard work have been rewarded...but still: the social class (more like a caste) system in The South is apparently a huge deal, and I was oblivious all these years, until...now, basically. Ugh.

I've rambled, per usual. Point is...God has been, and is being, quite kind to me (and my family). His work in my life--and I only got genuinely, truly saved 3 1/2 years ago-- has meant family reconciliation, recovery from my mental problems, and now...I'm learning to lean on The Lord more. He has blessed my parents' hard work with higher status and more compensation, which, these days...seems to be guaranteed no one. In terms of leaning on The Lord...well, I finally got the point where I realized I was mostly in the flesh and a lot of what I wanted was to patch up the flesh, not stand on and live out that I am a new creation in Christ Jesus. So, I prayed about it (I pray a lot), and lately...I think God has been working in my life (and mind, thank goodness) in a big way.

So, yeah...a Praise Report (a long one, of course). I'm getting less and less fearful+timid as Christ works in me. I'm actually beginning to appreciate my life and the good things The Lord has given me instead of ruminating as much on the past (oddly enough...now that I'm in recovery, I'm beginning to realize how much of my past was blasted away by shock) and getting tied up in paranoia, agitation, etc. etc. Miracle meds are a big part of the recovery, but...you can throw all the Rx pills you can at a miserable, unrepentant wretch, and they'll stay miserable, unrepentant, and wretched. Thanks to Jesus, I'm no longer unrepentant, miserable, or wretched. The meds actually work (quite well), and I don't seem to have any major side effects, which is a major blessing (even the newer, overpiced psych meds can cause major problems in a lot of people...).

OK. I'm far less afraid, much less paranoid and agitated, and...at times...I'm genuinely happy, especially when I take time to appreciate my life in Christ.

:)
 
My parents have a kinda big yard for this part of town (3ish acres, +/-). Long front yard. I heard shots outside, looked out one of the windows facing the front yard....somebody just shot an animal in the front yard :-( . I dunno what's up with that...

Other than that, this house sitting bizness ain't so bad. My everlovin' daddy left me with more than enough cash to see me through, and I have plastic in case of an emergency. I'm blessed...my parents don't seem to be angry at me now, nor do they seem to mind me living here, with them. Sometimes, I think they kinda like having me around, or at least...they've adjusted. The house isn't huge; it was built way back when (1845) even upper class people didn't go for the McMansions of today...but its big enough for 3 people, that's for sure. They have what they call a "doggy den" upstairs, in what had before been my dad's study. The little house dogs (Perma-puppies, as I call them) love it up there, usually sleep up there, etc. That's usually where my parents eat+have their after work drinks. Point is...now that all the tension has calmed down (Praise God for that!), it seems that they've made adjustments and I'm here for the long haul...which is good, considering I have 2.5 years left on probation ((its a "Class A" Misdemeanor, and I got slammed w/ the maximum time on probation)). They were even kind enough to get me a new mattress when they bought one for their bedroom.

Ugh. I've rambled, as per usual. The neighbor man just came over...he shot a fox in the front yard (thank goodness). Animal control is coming over to pick up the carcass. I don't think the neighbors much care for me...can't say I blame them. I tried to be polite when he came to the door, but I sensed...I dunno...that he doesn't like me, lol. Happens. "Uppity mental patients" aren't generally well-liked. I think in other places, I'd be coolin' my jets in the state mental hospital. For better or for worse, SC doesn't have much of a state mental hospital these days...most of it was shut down, the patients sent out for care in the community, and the ((prime)) real estate sold off to a developer. Oh well. Welcome to the "recovery model," SC-style. Point is...I complain an awful lot about how I'm treated and such, but elsewhere...they may couch it in clinical jargon and all, but its the same thing...people, especially "mental patients," are expected to know their/our place. Get "uppity..." expect a backlash. I think southerners may just be more vocal about it, or they were back when I was still on the outs with my parents and living just above poverty.

Honestly, I've only recently genuinely accepted that I have severe mental problems that will probably stick with me for years to come, possibly as long as I live. Fully accepting and comprehending that is...kinda hard, honestly. No, I'm not ridiculously wretched, ugly, obviously brain damaged, pathetic like I was before Christ saved me and moved mightily in my life. I am, however, mentally ill in a way that sometimes involves psychosis and often interferes with the kind of life people in mainstream, conventional society pursue+live. It is...what it is, lol.

I'm also not heterosexual. I'm not big on calling myself gay, but I am...queer. Not effeminate, not disordered, not a flamer (Praise God for that!), but...queer. A sort of naturally occuring variation on men, the male role. I'm prettier than most men, I have a certain softness to my personality, I connect with women in a way that heterosexual men don't...pretty much, I'm queer. I'm also Born Again and looking to live the right way, as I interpret Scripture (and I try to line my interpretations up with sound doctrine, to the extent that I'm able at this point....). To be queer, genuinely queer, not gay...is to automatically be The Other, especially in The Bible Belt ("1,000 miles wide, 1 inch deep"). Queer is...a blend of masculine traits with some softer, perhaps even feminine, characterisitics. And its not just my personality. I have ridiculously thick, wavy, shiny hair...its even a unique, very pretty color. Men generally don't have hair like mine...its thicker than most women's hair, too. I also have a high forehead and a widow's peak. See what I mean? Even physically, to be queer is to be...different.

So, yeah. Born Again, severely mentally ill, and queer. Plus all the stigma from what I was, what I did, and what was done to me, pre-Jesus. Labels, labels, labels. Now, being labeled "schizophrenic" by most people around here has both pros and cons. Sometimes, I think its probably a better label, a better role, than being considered a pathetic, chronically unemployed "loser" (plus: former Rx pill head, narcissist, flamer, burn out, college drop out, "weakling," etc. etc. etc.). Again: it is...what it is. My current counselor--a Christian w/ a Masters of Divinity, good man--says I've been varying degrees of very mentally ill for a long time, even as a teenager. This is about as stable as I've ever been and this is the longest I've ever been lucid, level, properly medicated (not too much, not too little, no major side effects, no controlled substances...), and...well, normal.

I'm blessed. "Crazy" people die every day. People in general often die, or are permanently, irreparably damaged, by things I did back then, things that were done to me, etc. Putting aside what is behind, and pressing forward...run the race in such a way as to win, fight the good fight...take up the plow and don't look back...

The Bible is becoming more important to me, especially the New Testament. I pray frequently. I'm far less controlled by the past, defined by the past. Saved and set free. Washed and made clean. In my case...The Lord has seen fit that my release from the bondage of sin plays out in the here and now...with my family, with my mind, even with my body. I'm not the only one. I had a counselor who was also a (calvinist) sbc minister. Good man...taught me a lot. Anyway, he told me stories of going to Africa and seeing "the least of these," people who didn't (and don't) "matter" to most of the world, even their own communities...healed. I've read stories of skid row denizens, street walkers, junkies, etc. getting saved and finding themselves...made whole. God is good.

OK. I've rambled...lack of sleep+caffeine (home brewed dunkin' donuts coffee...I'm livin' the dream) gets me to ramblin' even more than usual. Thanks for reading+for your prayers. These days, The Lord has changed me to the point that I now keep the people of CFnet up in prayer. River, not a pond...that sort of thing.

:)
 
Miracle meds are a big part of the recovery, but...you can throw all the Rx pills you can at a miserable, unrepentant wretch, and they'll stay miserable, unrepentant, and wretched. Thanks to Jesus, I'm no longer unrepentant, miserable, or wretched.
:sohappy
The Lord has changed me to the point that I now keep the people of CFnet up in prayer. River, not a pond...that sort of thing.
You know CE your posts make me happy and inspire me to be a better person, a more compassionate person, a stronger person.
Thank you for being who you are to me.
:hug
 
:)

Thanks, everyone. Your prayers are much appreciated, and the response posts are, too. I know I tend to take over the prayer and talk+advice subforums, lol. I'm getting better about it. A lot of it, honestly, is because for so long, no one listened, and no one cared. Even private practice psychiatrists and counselors, who were paid by my insurance at the time to listen and help, didn't listen, and they certainly didn't help. And people in general, well...not so much, lol. My "friends" before I got saved weren't really friends in any meaningful sense of the word. At best, they were people to hang out with, pass the time with, etc. More often, they were bad news bears.

Jesus saves (why not me?). Now, I have my family, and that is a miracle in and of itself. I have my older, wiser, Pentecostal friend, Verna. Its strange...an older widow in southern georgia whom I've only met in person 1 time may very well be the best friend I've ever had. She says she talked to me (I was on an outing w/ teen challenge to her church) because The Lord moved on her heart to do so. I'm glad she listened to that still, small voice, that's for sure.

Rambling...you know what's kinda frustrating? Since I'm "schizophrenic," I'm expected to live a certain way, and I'm apparently not "playing by the rules" or something. Ugh. I'm also now, thanks to Christ, genuinely intelligent. I don't mean "oh, I have an IQ of such and such," because I kind of doubt that the IQ scale is all that helpful. I mean...well, when I was younger, before my brain turned to mush (I'd like to thank Mental Health, Inc. for that, btw), I was smart in the sense that I could remember and recite info and do well on standardized tests and such, but...I was sorely lacking in the ability to think for myself and put things together. I wanted to be a writer. Thing is...my writing had a certain flow to it, and I probably wrote better than many people in their late teens, but...the quality wasn't all that great, and when I attempted fiction the substance wasn't really there, either. These days...

...well, these days, I don't spell quite as well (I did well in spelling bees as a child), but I write much better. My attempts at short stories (I grew up reading short stories) are much, much better. I have social skills, which is huge. My writing style has developed and is still developing...now and then, I'll get kudos on submitting "well-written" material for school. Of course, this isn't anything that --I-- did; its God's work in my life, and its wonderful. I now actually appreciate the raw material The Lord has blessed me with...no more Adderall, Klonopin, etc. for this guy, that's for sure. I'm even careful about the Rx treatment...I've learned the art of haggling with my shrink so I get better, safer, more tolerable treatments than they usually provide at community clinics. The way I see it...I'm the one taking the stuff; why shouldn't I get some input?

OK. I'm done now. Thanks again, everyone. :)
 
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