Christ_empowered
Member
- Oct 23, 2010
- 14,245
- 10,725
Yes, its me. AGAIN. Last night, I was up and down all night. I don't know what the deal was. So, 3 AM or so, I step outside on the front porch to have a cigarette. The same set of neighbors that has been harassing me for 2+ years...well, they were up, it was dark outside (read: drunk), and they started laughing and saying stuff, this time at a lower volume than previous times. And...
...I'm starting to genuinely, honestly, truly not care. Fret not because of evil doers, right? Not that being mean to me makes someone an "evil doer," but things have heated up a lot since I got saved, and even more since God's work in my life became apparent at every level of my being. Not only have I been forgiven, but I've been released from a lot of what sin--my own and others', too--had done to me. I used to be ugly. Now, I'm apparently "too pretty," whatever that means. Balding...now I have too much hair. Short...now I'm average height. Effeminate...now I'm normal in a lot of respects, including more masculine.
One thing people love to say around here is that I"m "too old." I guess when the whole town declares that you'll be "dead by 23," making to 30--while looking, apparently, 27--is a bit much, lol. I have to forgive, just as I have been forgiven...
...so, yeah. Praying for my enemies--from the mental health "professionals" who ruined my life until Jesus stepped in, to the neighbors, to those who insist on treating me disrespectfully (its gotten better when I'm out and about in the county, but in this little town--population slightly less than 3,000 at the last census--things are rough...)--it helps. Me. I mean, I hope it helps them, too, but...that's the other thing: because I've been praying for them, I've come to realize their problems with me aren't an important part of my life, not anymore.
Low status...ugh! I'm blessed. My people moved up in the world. I mean, they've worked hard for a long time, they have advanced degrees, blah blah blah, but...God's been very, very good to them. When they/we were a "rinky dink middle class" family (words from mental health pros who, btw, make less than my parents), they couldn't offer a whole lot of protection and support. Now that I think about it, I don't think there's much they could have done about my physical health issues from back then, either (premature aging, respiratory problems, hair loss, tics, etc.). Now...
...God's taken care of me in a big, big way. Physically, I'm doing great. Need to drop some weight and work out, but...yeah. Even my button nose has given way to a normal nose, lol. My people care more about me...I think because of God's direct work in their hearts and because now I just might actually *do* something with my life, you know? I'm not what the mental health people always called a "victim of poor life choices" anymore.
But, yeah...low status. Its weird, when you're low on the totem pole, but smart, healthy, and supported+ protected by a "good" family (around here, "nice" families are middle class, "good" families are above that). I drive a decent car, I wear good clothes, I eat well, I live in peace and comfort. These are all blessings from The Lord, I realize that now. People like me commonly end up dead, homeless, in jail and/or prison, in abject poverty w/ no escape (often BECAUSE of shrinks, weird, huh?), so...
...I live much more comfortably than I deserve. I even get to go to Liberty Online and I'm making headway towards that long awaited 4 year degree. I write well enough for my instructors to sometimes give me very positive feed back on style and content. My parents are warming up to me. I try not to ask too much of them, but they give me good things (good clothes, for instance) without me asking, because...they care. And because I think they're moving towards forgiving me.
Living at home at 30 is kinda strange, I guess. Its good because I actually get social interaction. A lot of mentally ill people who live in the community are desperately lonely. I'm not Mr.Social Life, but...I get enough interaction with my folks to keep from going nuts, lol. Plus, I care about them, I really do. I can care about them now, now that I've been forgiven and my senses have been restored unto me and (it sometimes seems) then some. Just a little bit, lol.
Being this low status is crazy. I'm not living in poverty (Praise God!), I'm not a convicted felon, I've never been to the loverly state mental hospital (yes, sarcasm intended), but...everything that The Lord has done for me angers people around here. I have very healthy skin. I have thick, wavy, glossy hair, and its an unusual color. I have very bright eyes. I wear good shoes (not that I'm a shoe collector, but...I have good taste, lol). I'm smart. My masculinity is developing. And...
...it makes people mad. And I realize now, finally, that I can't expect much more out of them. In the world, of the world...stuff like this ain't supposed to happen.
But yeah, low status. This is sort of like a crash course in Stigma and Social Class. I feel like I should be given an honorary sociology degree for all this, lol. Its like...I'm supposed to be subject to confinement (jail or mental hospital) at the drop of a hat. I should "know my place." I should be working, presumably somewhere where they can (again) release my info and "put pressure on me." I shouldn't have an attorney (people round town insist I have a public defender. Common sense would tell you that if I did, I wouldn't be sittin pretty in my parents' house, lol). And yet...
...I cannot worry. I needn't worry. He who has begun a good work in you shall see it through to the end. Not because I deserve it. I mean, I'm not one of those "oh, I deserve nothing but pain and torment!" people, but...I realize I wasn't saved because I was good or because I deserved it, but because Christ loves me, Christ willed to save me, and...yeah. Omni-benevolence, something like that.
Ugh. Yet again, I'm ranting. I realize that I kept hearing stuff so much it was affecting me. Like, dudes saying "he got too old." Right. Actually, I look a bit younger than my age and I apparently even have "good coloring" in the face, which probably makes people that much angrier, lol. The "problems" are: I'm still alive, I'm healthy, I'm smart, I'm increasingly masculine, I have too much hair+my hair's "too pretty," and I "don't know my place." Seriously. When I first moved home, neighbors would call me a "trailer trash faggot" and say "there are plenty of trailer parks where he can live! This is a good part of town!" Low status.
Not that I'm too good for a trailer park, lol. I mean, I'm blessed that my parents let me stay in their place and its nice and big enough for me to live here without causing too much stress or whatever, but...not too good for a trailer park. The problem, for me, is and was that I get the sense that I'm expected to live on other peoples' terms, because I'm low status. This is where you live, what music you listen to, the clothes you where, where you work...these are the thoughts we approve of for you, the dreams and aspirations that are appropriate for you, etc. Nonsense, really. I was labeled a "trouble maker" by shrinks, and its been a rough ride ever since, lol.
OK. Yeah, I'm venting. Feel free to respond, or not, or...anything. This is a Praise Report, thank goodness. I realize now, more than before, that I've been washed and made clean, that I'm a new creation in Christ Jesus, that I am, above all else, forgiven. Don't get me wrong--I enjoy being healthy, I like the hair, I like the cool place to live, but...forgiveness is first and foremost. I get that now.
Guess I just needed to rant and offer up a little praise for my own growth and improvements, and praise for the improvements in my overall situation.
...I'm starting to genuinely, honestly, truly not care. Fret not because of evil doers, right? Not that being mean to me makes someone an "evil doer," but things have heated up a lot since I got saved, and even more since God's work in my life became apparent at every level of my being. Not only have I been forgiven, but I've been released from a lot of what sin--my own and others', too--had done to me. I used to be ugly. Now, I'm apparently "too pretty," whatever that means. Balding...now I have too much hair. Short...now I'm average height. Effeminate...now I'm normal in a lot of respects, including more masculine.
One thing people love to say around here is that I"m "too old." I guess when the whole town declares that you'll be "dead by 23," making to 30--while looking, apparently, 27--is a bit much, lol. I have to forgive, just as I have been forgiven...
...so, yeah. Praying for my enemies--from the mental health "professionals" who ruined my life until Jesus stepped in, to the neighbors, to those who insist on treating me disrespectfully (its gotten better when I'm out and about in the county, but in this little town--population slightly less than 3,000 at the last census--things are rough...)--it helps. Me. I mean, I hope it helps them, too, but...that's the other thing: because I've been praying for them, I've come to realize their problems with me aren't an important part of my life, not anymore.
Low status...ugh! I'm blessed. My people moved up in the world. I mean, they've worked hard for a long time, they have advanced degrees, blah blah blah, but...God's been very, very good to them. When they/we were a "rinky dink middle class" family (words from mental health pros who, btw, make less than my parents), they couldn't offer a whole lot of protection and support. Now that I think about it, I don't think there's much they could have done about my physical health issues from back then, either (premature aging, respiratory problems, hair loss, tics, etc.). Now...
...God's taken care of me in a big, big way. Physically, I'm doing great. Need to drop some weight and work out, but...yeah. Even my button nose has given way to a normal nose, lol. My people care more about me...I think because of God's direct work in their hearts and because now I just might actually *do* something with my life, you know? I'm not what the mental health people always called a "victim of poor life choices" anymore.
But, yeah...low status. Its weird, when you're low on the totem pole, but smart, healthy, and supported+ protected by a "good" family (around here, "nice" families are middle class, "good" families are above that). I drive a decent car, I wear good clothes, I eat well, I live in peace and comfort. These are all blessings from The Lord, I realize that now. People like me commonly end up dead, homeless, in jail and/or prison, in abject poverty w/ no escape (often BECAUSE of shrinks, weird, huh?), so...
...I live much more comfortably than I deserve. I even get to go to Liberty Online and I'm making headway towards that long awaited 4 year degree. I write well enough for my instructors to sometimes give me very positive feed back on style and content. My parents are warming up to me. I try not to ask too much of them, but they give me good things (good clothes, for instance) without me asking, because...they care. And because I think they're moving towards forgiving me.
Living at home at 30 is kinda strange, I guess. Its good because I actually get social interaction. A lot of mentally ill people who live in the community are desperately lonely. I'm not Mr.Social Life, but...I get enough interaction with my folks to keep from going nuts, lol. Plus, I care about them, I really do. I can care about them now, now that I've been forgiven and my senses have been restored unto me and (it sometimes seems) then some. Just a little bit, lol.
Being this low status is crazy. I'm not living in poverty (Praise God!), I'm not a convicted felon, I've never been to the loverly state mental hospital (yes, sarcasm intended), but...everything that The Lord has done for me angers people around here. I have very healthy skin. I have thick, wavy, glossy hair, and its an unusual color. I have very bright eyes. I wear good shoes (not that I'm a shoe collector, but...I have good taste, lol). I'm smart. My masculinity is developing. And...
...it makes people mad. And I realize now, finally, that I can't expect much more out of them. In the world, of the world...stuff like this ain't supposed to happen.
But yeah, low status. This is sort of like a crash course in Stigma and Social Class. I feel like I should be given an honorary sociology degree for all this, lol. Its like...I'm supposed to be subject to confinement (jail or mental hospital) at the drop of a hat. I should "know my place." I should be working, presumably somewhere where they can (again) release my info and "put pressure on me." I shouldn't have an attorney (people round town insist I have a public defender. Common sense would tell you that if I did, I wouldn't be sittin pretty in my parents' house, lol). And yet...
...I cannot worry. I needn't worry. He who has begun a good work in you shall see it through to the end. Not because I deserve it. I mean, I'm not one of those "oh, I deserve nothing but pain and torment!" people, but...I realize I wasn't saved because I was good or because I deserved it, but because Christ loves me, Christ willed to save me, and...yeah. Omni-benevolence, something like that.
Ugh. Yet again, I'm ranting. I realize that I kept hearing stuff so much it was affecting me. Like, dudes saying "he got too old." Right. Actually, I look a bit younger than my age and I apparently even have "good coloring" in the face, which probably makes people that much angrier, lol. The "problems" are: I'm still alive, I'm healthy, I'm smart, I'm increasingly masculine, I have too much hair+my hair's "too pretty," and I "don't know my place." Seriously. When I first moved home, neighbors would call me a "trailer trash faggot" and say "there are plenty of trailer parks where he can live! This is a good part of town!" Low status.
Not that I'm too good for a trailer park, lol. I mean, I'm blessed that my parents let me stay in their place and its nice and big enough for me to live here without causing too much stress or whatever, but...not too good for a trailer park. The problem, for me, is and was that I get the sense that I'm expected to live on other peoples' terms, because I'm low status. This is where you live, what music you listen to, the clothes you where, where you work...these are the thoughts we approve of for you, the dreams and aspirations that are appropriate for you, etc. Nonsense, really. I was labeled a "trouble maker" by shrinks, and its been a rough ride ever since, lol.
OK. Yeah, I'm venting. Feel free to respond, or not, or...anything. This is a Praise Report, thank goodness. I realize now, more than before, that I've been washed and made clean, that I'm a new creation in Christ Jesus, that I am, above all else, forgiven. Don't get me wrong--I enjoy being healthy, I like the hair, I like the cool place to live, but...forgiveness is first and foremost. I get that now.
Guess I just needed to rant and offer up a little praise for my own growth and improvements, and praise for the improvements in my overall situation.
