So…since I don’t really use this site a lot, I ended up cancelling the personal part of my account, but renewed my domain. I’m not sure how this is gonna change things, but I just couldn’t reconcile paying for something I hardly ever use.
Basically, I’ve been doing pretty bad in my life with my mental illness. I always forget what I’m saying and lose words constantly. I am trying, though…
It was 2010. I had come home from work early because I was having a bad episode of anxiety. As soon as I came home, I was harped on by my sister’s boyfriend. I couldn’t deal with that and the anxiety that was overwhelming, but I couldn’t retreat to my room because he wanted to drag it out… yell at me more, make me feel even worse about myself. I suffered through that and eventually ended up in my room and on my bed crying.
Shortly after, I was told by someone very close to me that my mental illness was affecting everyone else and that it made people uncomfortable to be around me. At this point, especially considering who it was, I was at the end of my rope. I was basically told to not express my issues when around others because they would then get depressed, etc. I was not in a good place, but no one knew how to “deal with me.” I felt lost and I felt I couldn’t turn to anyone because I was convinced that everything about me was wrong and I shouldn’t bring it up (luckily I had amazing friends that I COULD talk to about and two friends in particular who basically let me sleep on their pull-out couch on weekends for at least 2 months).
Thing is, even when you’re frustrated about someone’s mental illness or anything related to that, you can’t just tell someone not to associate with people while they’re depressed or whatever. You can feel that frustration. You’re allowed to. But walking away from someone to take a breather is better than taking it out on the person with the mental illness. You have no idea what a flippant frustrated comment could do to person in crisis… or someone close to being in crisis. And you can and allow yourself to have moods, so why tell someone else to suppress theirs?
Now, I look back. The person who told me those things has a whole different perspective on things and my disorder. They realized that sometimes I can’t hide when I’m depressed. Or I can’t sleep when I’m a little bit manic. Or that me walking away from a situation isn’t being rude, but trying not to have an anxiety attack. Or that sometimes, no matter what, I’m going to have an all-out panic attack. Or that if I shut down and listen to music when everyone else is talking it might because I’m hearing or seeing things. I honestly think their perspective changed when I was admitted to a psych ward three times in one year. That they couldn’t change me. I am who I am.
And, thanks to my medication (even if they do make me gain weight) I can control a lot of these symptoms and I just wasn’t on the right ones before. So, just, mind what you say to people… to anyone. It could affect them more than you realize.
So, I’m in the middle of writing a post on being Christian and a part of the LGBTQIA+ community, which is entirely possible because I AM. But, this is not that. This is a heart-wrenching thing I go through in my church all the time, and I think it’s time for me to be honest about it.
My church is part of the Assemblies of God denomination. It is a highly Evangelical church, and we seek out new members and yes, evangelize. I love the people I interact with in my church. We do share a lot of the same views and they are almost always there to lift you up when things are going on, and they almost always pray for you and with you. And I love our Pastor and the sermons he preaches (and may I mention he NEVER preaches against things, even the LGBTQIA+ community). BUT… almost everyone in my church is not affirming. Meaning, basically, they do not accept the LGBTQIA+ community. They are very against it. They think prayer will “cure” it. They enjoy “shaming” those within the community. Only one person in the congregation knows about my orientation, and she’s very liberal like me.
I’m sure you’re wondering why I stay in such a church. Well, among with what I said before, my orientation is between me and God. I don’t find reason to bring it up. But I don’t go recruiting people to my church often because of the beliefs about my community. I still have all the other beliefs and I want to talk to people about Christ. A lot of times, though, I get asked if our church is accepting of the community because a relative has come out, or their daughter has, etc. And I tell them the truth. We’re a loving church, but they (and I always stress they) do not approve of the LGBTQIA+ community. I also, however, tell them that Jesus does, and point them in the direction of the affirming churches in our town. I’m sure if those in charge of my church knew I did that they definitely wouldn’t be too happy with me.
But yes, that’s the truth. And I’ve learned to ignore it for myself because of the positive things. I would, however, never refer anyone who is affirming to come to my church. I don’t want them to feel like they have to change for anyone when God loves them the way they are.
For years I never understood where I stood on the lovely roller coaster ride that is human sexuality. At least, I never FULLY understood.
When I was 15, I started to identify as a lesbian… yet something prevented me from going full-steam ahead with it. Instead, I decided to come out as bisexual. I thought it would be easier that way (WRONG, but I digress…).
I remember a phone call I had with my friend Lauren (who is my longest-ever friend in history right now lol) and I wanted to tell her. I wanted to finally get the thought out of my mind… to say SOMEthing to someone, but I was terrified. Funnily, I learned quite quickly that I shouldn’t have been. Her question to the statement of “Lauren, I have to tell you something” was “You’re gay?” I kinda stared at the phone for a few seconds and went on my bisexual rant and absolutely nothing changed between us.
Trigger warning: self-harm
When I was twenty, my parents got divorced, my father remarried, and I gained a sister and a brother. Those were all good things (yes, even the divorce). The big change happened in April of that year when dad, my brother, and I went to live in the (newly updated) house that my stepmother, Jill, lived in. It definitely felt like a home.
A couple of months after living there, I noticed I wasn’t interested in things or motivated. I withdrew into myself and kinda was just… there. I brought all this up to my dad and Jill and they agreed they had noticed this. Jill sent me to her primary doctor (since mine was so far away now), and when I left the office I left with a sample dose of Prozac and a prescription for when that was done. Now, here’s the tricky part… I had been diagnosed as Bipolar twice before I was prescribed Prozac. I had even been on anti-psychotics before this. I never told this to the doctor.