"Get the fuck away from me! I want nothing to do with you! Go away! Go away!"
Those are the words I screamed at God those ending months of the year 2007. I felt alone and wanted it that way. I didn't want to feel the pain or remorse anymore. Sleep wasn't coming so well. I would lie awake with my skin crawling like that song "I just want to feel safe in my own skin" by Dido.
Randy and I played the cat and mouse game. One of us, usually him, would call wanting sex, seduce the other, and then get really guilty and say never to call again. I know what most of you have heard if you around then, that I was the one doing the calling. But, in actually it was Randy! Randy is insecure and wants to appear super spiritual so he told everyone, "look, she's crazy and obsessed with me, she won't stop calling me and trying to get me to have sex with her." When actually, he would call me all horny and depressed and me being as depressed and heartsick and lonely would go along with it, well, then he would say, "oh i got to get off the phone, call me back in twenty minutes." So, I would call him back in twenty minutes, and since he told everyone I was the obsessed one, his sister or someone would answer and tell me never to call again. I would get depressed for this and just as a week was going by when I was starting to feel better, I'd get another call from Randy and the whole thing would start all over again. In the end, Randy went to the Pastor at our church and friends and told them how manipulative and seductive I was being and how he was the victim. Well, now, the truth comes out, Randy, you are a victimizer as much as a victim...and definitely not a perfect Christian saint.
Finally, that died down and I started dragging myself to churches again. But, I had new found sleep disorder. I would take my med, which supposedly would cause sleep, and not be able to sleep for two hours or at all. So, I tried there prescription meds but still nothing, just wide awake staring at the wall for two hours...so I gave up and started drugging myself with over the counter sleeping pills...All I really wanted to do was sleep and not feel.
My psychiatrist took me off a med at the time that had made me feel fat and lethargic. I was very hesitant about this because well, I had had such a breakdown so recently I was afraid it would happen again. But, she explained that the drug itself might cause heart failure, diabetes, etc, oh, and prolactin, which is women who aren't pregnant producing breastmilk, so I decided why not go off of it? When I was on it, I had gained a substantial amount of weight. Okay, I was 134 but I had never weighed that much. And that really isn't that much except my stomach just stuck way out and I had a mother that constantly told me "yeah, you need to lose weight", "looks like you have picked up some extra pounds" or whatever slanderous rude remarks she could make about my weight. (In reality, 134 is not that fat, its not that healthy either, but its not worth ruining your self esteem over, which is just what happened to me, what my mom did.)
So, I went off this med and since I had been dieting and working out incessantly, I started losing weight. I dropped 18 pounds in two months. I felt great at 115. You would think I would have stopped there but I couldn't. The emphasis on me that I had gotten so fat freaked me out that anything that had a calorie count above 90 was considered dangerous. I started skipping meals, eating less, counting calories...no wonder I couldn't sleep at night.
Meanwhile, the emergency med they put me on was on such a high dosage that it literally backed me up and made me nauseas when I ate. So, why eat if it makes me sick? Its helpful when you don't want to eat when you can't eat too.
I tried many churches during that time. The first of which was an Assembly of God. It was a very strange experience. Very friendly bunch, I was definitely the youngest. They all dressed up for church and played the organ. But, I remember listening to the music and seeing Jesus kneel before me with his arms around me, singing to me...
In the car after church, I prayed and cried and told Jesus that I loved him and he, remember I had yelled at him, said, "I always knew you did."
I didn't really go to church that much during that time but stayed home and sulked. The Bible was still the hardest thing to read. I even bought a child's bible because that is where I felt my mind could understand. I was praying desparately. I remember lying in my bed, crying, imagining a spiritual Frank Peretti style battle going on about me...Angels and demons fighting for me and God speaking to me softly through it saying, "cast them off." Over and over again, I'd almost succumb to the darkness of my evil mind and very Frank Peretti of me even see the little demon gently stroking my hair saying, "join us, join us" and then at the last moment, I would cast him out. You know, God does always get the victory.
My Cradle-Catholic Grandma got me to go to church. Its a tradition since I was a child that this set of grandparents take me to church. Well, before my grandpa died and then I became a Christian and neither of them could drive, I would drive them. Well, this thanksgiving my Grandma came and the two of us woke up and drove to the little Catholic church that could in Asti, California. It was there that through the hymnals the Lord met me. Never again will I say that Catholic churches aren't spirit-filled. This one moved me to tears. I cried out all my pain and realized the faithfulness of the Lord. How desparately I needed to hear that message that the Lord is forever with me.
The next month, right before Christmas, Randy came back into my life. And yes, we played that game again for a few months until right before President's weekend (February 2008) when he went and shall I say, blabbed to all "his" friends what I seductive crazy ex I was being and that he was the victim. But, keep in mind, he was doing all the calling. Even Pastor Chris believed him. I also sent a major breakthrough email to my friend Carol, Pastor Chris, and Randy detailing how I had made the choice to go home and take care of myself. In the email, I outlined three choices. I was describing how suicidal I was and how I wanted to die. The three choices were to go to Calvary Chapel Healdsburg to talk to Chris, throw myself to the mercy of the sharks off the golden gate bridge, or go home, have dinner, and go to bed. I chose to go home and go to bed. Anyone can see now that was a major victory. I chose to take care of myself. Well, Pastor Chris read what he wanted to read and called me "manipulative". He read it and failed to see that I hadn't come to the church at all. Here I was explaining a major breakthrough in my recovery where I took the initiative to take care of myself, and he called me manipulative. The next day I went to therapy with him, where he and my therapist talked about how manipulative I was and he looked me in the eye and said, "I can't be your friend right now." And, all of this over a misunderstanding. At the moment, I had not the words to explain myself and probably wouldn't have been listened to anyway.
A few weeks later, my therapist of a year, who I had grown to love and trust, labeled me antisocial and told me to find another therapist. Well, I couldn't afford another therapist and I was stuck going to Kaiser, because that's what my parents wanted. See, I was on Cal-cobra with the school, when the school switched to Kaiser, I wanted to do state insurance so I could stay with my same psychiatrist but my parents advised against saying that would bring too much shame on me later on in life. So, I miserably went to Kaiser. Kaiser therapy sucks! I had a therapist for a couple months on and off. I would go to her and want to start talking about what was going on in my life and then she would just say without letting me finish my sentence..."just do this." My psychiatrist was all right though but since have realized that she put me on a combination of meds that actually counteract each other. She thought she did a lot of good for me and I really do appreciate the time I spent with her. But, it was me buckling down, doing the work, fighting the fight, and keeping the faith that got me through. (Oh yeah, I kid you not, she looked like Doctor Ruth!)
For along time at Kaiser, I had no diagnosis. I had no idea what I was or what the fuck was wrong with me. I talked to my psychiatrist who claimed that she didn't diagnosed. I knew in my heart of hearts that I wasn't antisocial and prayed to God that that wasn't it. Antisocials are sociopaths, they have no conscience. Everyone I was talking to told me, yeah, I believe you have a conscience. I mean, I thought I wasn't sleeping at night because of the damage I had done to those at Calvary Chapel Healdsburg.
Also, at that time, I became homicidal. According to my husband, he remembers me telling him that I thought about killing people back 8 years ago when we dated before. But, this was more serious. I actually believed that this girl friend of mine from church had stolen Randy from me and I wanted to kill her. I had a plan. I was going to buy a gun, sneak into the church on Wednesday night Bible study, make her strip off her clothes in front of everyone (cuz if he fucked her, why can't i?), stick the gun up her vagina, and then pull the trigger....and then if that didn't work...I would put it to her brain and kill her that way. Pretty sick, huh? I told my psychiatrist, who called Pastor Chris, who told the girl...and yadadadada the police have me on file for crimininally insane.
I had to get out of town. I was obsessed with Scarlett O'hara at the time and I pictured myself running into the church office exclaiming to the pastor, "i must get them back. how can i get them back? I know, I'll go home, home to Ashland (Tera), and I will find someway to get them back....after all, tomorrow is another day".
So, I drove to Ashland. With the alittle bit of money I had left from teaching, I actually rented a room at the Columbia Hotel. See, that's a big step forward. I was so proud of myself. I didn't sleep on a friend's couch. I actually rented a room. (That's ten points for me, Malaenuh!) Of course, I ended up spending all my money in Ashland and going broke but I learned one thing...I still got my Jesus Seekers, God would forgive me and take me to heaven even if I had done these horrible things, and I found a magnet that got the recovery ball rolling:
"What would you attempt to do if you knew you would not fail?"
I read it and said, "Well, I'd get better." So, I bought it and it hangs on my refridgerator to this day.
Driving home was painful but there was a little bit of that ol' college try that Julia always seemed to hang onto. That Ashland magick had gotten into my blood and I knew there was nowhere to go but up from now on. I also knew from that trip to Ashland that there was no doubt about it, I was going to move back there.
I started reading everything I could get ahold of; every recovery book, every autobiography. I started going to church again at a foursquare church in Windsor. Lovely people but everytime I sat through a service my mind kept racing and thinking about what was going on at Calvary Chapel Healdsburg so I missed out on the entire message and would cry to different supportive individuals all the time. But, I started doing this Beth Moore "Step Up" bible study. From that Bible study, I remember God writing a promise on my heart, specifically, "I will awake you every morning with love."
For the strangest reason I was stuck in the Apostle Paul's books. I kept trying to go other places in the Bible but the more and more I got drawn back to Paul. I kept asking God, why, Paul? And I think it was because, in essense, I, like Paul, had persecuted Christians so whatever valuable lessons he had learned and was sharing on grace, I needed to learn.
I developed a deep appreciation for grace and mercy. I believe grace is a land of freedom and mercy is the freedom from the places we deserve to go to. I started admitting I had an angry problem and I started praying this prayer, as much as I could..."Lord, I bring that thought into captivity into the obedience of Jesus Christ. Help me to give out grace." I also started biting myself when I would scream or do something wrong. So, between the time of prayers or biting, some good stuck.
But, one scripture of Paul's, among many, stands out and has been the emblem of many throughout these years:
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." 2 Cor. 1:3-4
Throughout all the suffering, I knew that God's love, grace, and mercy would see me through; that, literally, what didn't kill me would make me stronger. So, that's what I did, I got stronger. I learned to stand on my own two feet. I learned not to be afraid to be alone. I learned more importantly how to give and give and then when to say no and step back and let the Lord do his work.
And through it all, there have been the faithful friends and family; friends that I could not even imagined I could have done it without...and yet, the story isn't over yet...I have a few years to go...but quickly, a thank you to Tony Fleisher, Scott Stanford, Malaena Taylor, Will Richey, Jim Degan, Koiwu Beyan, Lj Millick, Luke Frechette,Matthew Ledoux, Crystal Frechette, and all those Calvary Chapel Healdsburg who are no acquaintances who remain constant prayer warriors...thank you, and as the song goes, may I return the favor...
the adventures of 12 step begins tomorrow...
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