Christ_empowered
Member
- Oct 23, 2010
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Yes, another post about my friend Verna.
See, I grew up socially isolated. A lot of it was rooted in social class issues. My parents were flat broke when I was born, --but-- they also had just finished advanced degrees and started their careers. Basically, they weren't "good enough" for the more established advanced degree people (neither was I, by extension), but they were too bohemian and all that for other working class and later middle-middle class people.
When I brought friends home, they liked the other kids whose parents had advanced degrees, didn't so much like the working class kids or the more conventional middle-middle or even upper-middle class kids. --sigh-- So, between the social class-rooted peer rejection (try, just try, being a working class queer in an Honors Class...in the south...) and my parents rejecting some friends and accepting the "friends" who only put up with me because my people were well-educated and (at that point) "respectable," and...I spent a lotta time alone.
Now, I'm bona fide "severely mentally ill." My current treatment providers call it a severe form of Bipolar I. Just to de-glamorize Bipolar I for you, mine is mostly psychotic depression, which is decidedly un-fun and can be crippling. My community (predictably...) calls it "Schizophrenia," and I'm subject to arm chair analysis regarding the roots of my "Schizophrenia."
Rambling. So, I'm Bipolar or whatever, living with my now "genteel" (not rich, not middle-middle class) people in the same small town my parents have been in since I was 2 years old. I'm now 32. I have --1-- genuine friend, and her name is Verna. Verna worked in a psych ward doing administrative things for a season, so she knows the good, the bad, and the ugly of mental patients' lives.
She's teaching me how to be a real friend. This is huge, especially since my initial diagnosis was (severe) narcissistic personality disorder. The current treatment people have a perfectly plausible explanation of all that--NPD as a teenager, "corrective life experiences" that mellowed it out, then my "spiritual awakening" (read: I finally got saved!) that seems to have taken care of bona fide, full blown NPD, leaving me with...
Bipolar I. Maybe its as bad as Schizophrenia, maybe it isn't; either way, I'm on disability and labeled a "mental patient" 'round here, which...is what it is. Maybe its a step up from being labeled a "pathetic loser" ?
Back to Verna. I find that now I care about other people, especially her. And she can sense it, even over the phone. She has an adult daughter, almost my parents' age, who cut off contact, etc. etc., and recently sent Verna a letter. Verna read it out to me, over the phone. And...I...Cared. It hurt me to hear some of the psycho-babbley, self-serving things the daughter had written (stuff about "having to find herself" and "no room for toxicity," etc.), knowing that Verna's awesome and a solid Christian. I stayed on the phone and listened until the little house dogs started going crazy insane because my parents rolled up with groceries. Then I let Verna go to help the parents. :-(
I --do-- think God has dealt with me directly, especially since I (miraculously) got saved. That alone required some humility and self-awareness and such that I didn't possess, in the flesh, until that moment, when I believe God gave it to me, so I could believe upon Christ (I'm thinking...either predestination or prevenient grace...). I also think God has put Verna in my life so I can learn how to be a friend and a Christian, how to genuinely think about and care about other people, listen to what they have to say, say things that I think they should hear, even if my former "Mr.Nice Guy" routine would have had me go through the motions without really caring or offering anything of substance from my end.
I find that I care more about my people, too. And I care about the very few non-Christian people I am distantly socially engaged with, although its a different sort of care. I pray for them and mean it, not just going through the motions. I even pray for mental health "professionals" who did destructive things to me back when I was deep in my mess.
This isn't to say I'm #1 Christian of The Year. Far from it. A lot of what I just ran through are things that many Christians do without thinking about it, without reflecting upon it, without being amazed by the sudden softness of their hearts, compared to before Christ.
But that's other people. This is me. I don't know about "severe, intractable NPD," but I was wretched from a young age, and I was trapped in myself and pride and...and...it was rough. And there was no way out. Compassionate care could have made a difference, but I was a homely, drug addled, suicidal teenager from a "respectable," but not important or high status, family, so...I got drugs and later involuntary shock treatments, plus labels and punishment, blah blah blah.
Jesus, on the other hand, has proven to be remarkably compassionate and merciful. I'd heard the phrase, 'the sweetness of the Lord', before getting saved, and now I think about it, and I think: why, yes; this must be what "The Sweetness of The Lord" looks and feels like, for me, in my life, right now. God is good!
OK. That's more than enough from me.
See, I grew up socially isolated. A lot of it was rooted in social class issues. My parents were flat broke when I was born, --but-- they also had just finished advanced degrees and started their careers. Basically, they weren't "good enough" for the more established advanced degree people (neither was I, by extension), but they were too bohemian and all that for other working class and later middle-middle class people.
When I brought friends home, they liked the other kids whose parents had advanced degrees, didn't so much like the working class kids or the more conventional middle-middle or even upper-middle class kids. --sigh-- So, between the social class-rooted peer rejection (try, just try, being a working class queer in an Honors Class...in the south...) and my parents rejecting some friends and accepting the "friends" who only put up with me because my people were well-educated and (at that point) "respectable," and...I spent a lotta time alone.
Now, I'm bona fide "severely mentally ill." My current treatment providers call it a severe form of Bipolar I. Just to de-glamorize Bipolar I for you, mine is mostly psychotic depression, which is decidedly un-fun and can be crippling. My community (predictably...) calls it "Schizophrenia," and I'm subject to arm chair analysis regarding the roots of my "Schizophrenia."
Rambling. So, I'm Bipolar or whatever, living with my now "genteel" (not rich, not middle-middle class) people in the same small town my parents have been in since I was 2 years old. I'm now 32. I have --1-- genuine friend, and her name is Verna. Verna worked in a psych ward doing administrative things for a season, so she knows the good, the bad, and the ugly of mental patients' lives.
She's teaching me how to be a real friend. This is huge, especially since my initial diagnosis was (severe) narcissistic personality disorder. The current treatment people have a perfectly plausible explanation of all that--NPD as a teenager, "corrective life experiences" that mellowed it out, then my "spiritual awakening" (read: I finally got saved!) that seems to have taken care of bona fide, full blown NPD, leaving me with...
Bipolar I. Maybe its as bad as Schizophrenia, maybe it isn't; either way, I'm on disability and labeled a "mental patient" 'round here, which...is what it is. Maybe its a step up from being labeled a "pathetic loser" ?
Back to Verna. I find that now I care about other people, especially her. And she can sense it, even over the phone. She has an adult daughter, almost my parents' age, who cut off contact, etc. etc., and recently sent Verna a letter. Verna read it out to me, over the phone. And...I...Cared. It hurt me to hear some of the psycho-babbley, self-serving things the daughter had written (stuff about "having to find herself" and "no room for toxicity," etc.), knowing that Verna's awesome and a solid Christian. I stayed on the phone and listened until the little house dogs started going crazy insane because my parents rolled up with groceries. Then I let Verna go to help the parents. :-(
I --do-- think God has dealt with me directly, especially since I (miraculously) got saved. That alone required some humility and self-awareness and such that I didn't possess, in the flesh, until that moment, when I believe God gave it to me, so I could believe upon Christ (I'm thinking...either predestination or prevenient grace...). I also think God has put Verna in my life so I can learn how to be a friend and a Christian, how to genuinely think about and care about other people, listen to what they have to say, say things that I think they should hear, even if my former "Mr.Nice Guy" routine would have had me go through the motions without really caring or offering anything of substance from my end.
I find that I care more about my people, too. And I care about the very few non-Christian people I am distantly socially engaged with, although its a different sort of care. I pray for them and mean it, not just going through the motions. I even pray for mental health "professionals" who did destructive things to me back when I was deep in my mess.
This isn't to say I'm #1 Christian of The Year. Far from it. A lot of what I just ran through are things that many Christians do without thinking about it, without reflecting upon it, without being amazed by the sudden softness of their hearts, compared to before Christ.
But that's other people. This is me. I don't know about "severe, intractable NPD," but I was wretched from a young age, and I was trapped in myself and pride and...and...it was rough. And there was no way out. Compassionate care could have made a difference, but I was a homely, drug addled, suicidal teenager from a "respectable," but not important or high status, family, so...I got drugs and later involuntary shock treatments, plus labels and punishment, blah blah blah.
Jesus, on the other hand, has proven to be remarkably compassionate and merciful. I'd heard the phrase, 'the sweetness of the Lord', before getting saved, and now I think about it, and I think: why, yes; this must be what "The Sweetness of The Lord" looks and feels like, for me, in my life, right now. God is good!
OK. That's more than enough from me.
