God Prove Himself (Prose)

GOD PROVES HIMSELF

My knowledge of mental illness was very basic to say the least., I had heard of depression, but was not aware of intensity to the depth of despair.

I was catapulted in a very strange and bizarre world. I had just given birth to my son and suddenly life was different, I became paranoid, my house was being bugged. Music and the television spoke to me, I became very interested in emptying my bins on the kitchen floor and trying to figure out what I could recycle.

I went on a walk with my dog on a nearby common, it was dark. I stood on the path looking out over the pond, there was a vision of happiness, there was a brightness a surreal quality to the air. People were walking and laughing, children were giggling.

Directly in front of me across the common, far in the distance I could see the hospital clock tower, I knew within me that I was going there, I didn't know how or when, at that time I knew nothing about psychiatric hospitals.

I began to walk around the common, within me I knew my life had begun to mean something.

I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital an old lady said that I was an angel, I believed her, God had sent me.

I tried to run away, smashing the glass to get a key to for the fire escape. I was in my slippers and dressing gown. I didn’t know where I was going, I just had to get away.

They gave me foul tasting orange liquid, that I refused to take, they asked me to take it for the old lady, who knew I was an angel.

My life spiralled out of control seeming pointless, lurching from one depressive episode to the next.

On one occasion I held a vegetable knife in my hand. The knife was covered in blood. I looked at my left wrist and saw that it was cut and covered in blood too. I looked back at the knife and the blood was gone, so was that on my wrist.

I was terrified and became afraid to be by myself.

I telephoned a friend who was a Christian and explained and said I wanted to go to church with her. I suddenly felt as if I needed God's help, I could no longer resist my suicidal urges.

I was a nobody, less than worthless.

I had turned my back on God as a teenager. He was to blame for me being molested by my step-father. I was in conflict, my mind recoiled at the realisation that I needed God's help. I hated Him with a vengeance, but I was scared witless that I would harm myself.

I decided to give God a go, but He had to prove to me that I could trust Him.

Some will say here, who does she think she is? Or how arrogant, it is more complex than that.

I was frightened, frightened of myself, potentially of killing myself. I was frightened to trust myself, I had lost my mind. I was frightened of everyone around me, they wanted to put me in hospital. I was completely frightened of God and what He could do to me.

I read the Bible, people said that what was in the Bible was meant for me too. I didn't believe them, it was for everyone but me.

God showed me carefully and slowly how much He loved me, I learnt to listen to the voice in my head, guiding and reassuring me, without becoming overly anxious.

Life gradually became easier. I wanted others to know.

The more I tried to tell others the harder it became, persuading those around me, I wasn't just simply ill.

I once said I wanted to shout about my life from the rooftops and tell others the truth. I never knew one day my words would be taken literally. I believe they have been, by God.

I wrote about the horrors of my childhood, of the nightmare world of mental illness. Images that I had kept hidden for many years scrawled across the paper. I felt I was purging myself and beginning the long process of inner healing.

I believed that God had given me this gift in order for me to grow emotionally and spiritually. I also truly believed that my words would be used by God to help someone in a similar position to me.

My words became poems, the poems a book, my work was published. I was shouting from the rooftops, no longer hiding my past but revealing, exploring and moving on.

I still didn’t have the faith to realise the extent to where God had brought me to.

I have become more than worthless, a nobody, a victim of society, I have become a child of God.

He has truly helped me to walk away from all that held me back, and people are talking about how my words connect with them. I do believe that my words reach out to others and for that I am delighted.

God encouraged me to overcome my many fears, but, not only that to write about them. My words have taken the power from fear.

I once believed I was more worthless than others to receive the love of God, I didn't deserve it, I thought I was speaking the truth. God said to me, “What makes you so special that you don't need my love?”

Yes my words reach out, as they do to me, but ultimately those words are God's.

Long ago I believed my life had purpose, I wanted to share my story with the world. God has given me a gift, to weave my tale in a way that truly connects and threads together all our journeys to become a colourful tapestry of life.

In my darkest days I never pictured myself today, shouting to all who will hear from the rooftops.