Hey tif, have you ever experienced a severe mental disorder before? I don't think your in any position to say something that you've never expierenced first hand.
Mild anxiety and nightmares? Who doesnt get those? Try having a consistent application of unreality, loss of every relationship and consistent sensory changes. I think you need to take a step back and re-evaluate.
And who ever said God was Santa Clause? It seems like you are putting words into people's posts. So because I want a healing, I treat God like he's Santa? Right on.
I did not direct the "Santa" comment at you. The Santa comment was in response to a post saying that any infirmities that "can't be cured" are either caused by
1~ there is a generational curse of iniquity in the person's familial blood line. (Ex 20:5 is a spiritual LAW and eternal); or 2~ there is unrepented sin, unforgiveness, bitterness, jealousy, or FEAR that needs to be confessed and repented of
And yes, I think that saying healing is a matter of what WE do (repent, forgive, etc.) IS making God into some sort of vending machine or magical Genie. Who am I to question why God doesn't heal in all cases? Who was Job? Just because we might have a "thorn," an illness, a disease... Unless you ascribe to some metaphysical belief that everything is spiritual and there is no physical (which, btw, is not what the bible says), then there ARE physical things in this life. Why do you think Jesus Himself said, "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” ? It's simple: Because the flesh (our earthly, physical nature) is weak.
Now, I didn't know I'd need to give a rundown of my "qualifications" for posting in this thread. I will talk about them, though, so you can understand.
I had severe PTSD symptoms. You think only people with schizophrenia have a constant sense of unreality? The loss of every relationship you ever held dear?
1) I had flashbacks. These are horrible to experience, and even moreso because my brain had blocked every memory of the abuse. So, I had flashbacks, but I didn't know if they were even real. And the abuse was severe. I mostly shy away from talking about specifics, but there is one memory I have of being in my bedroom at about 6 years old. My dad was screaming into my face. I was terrified. He started to leave. I said something like, "Why are you so mean?" Wrong question. He flew back into the room, grabbed me by one leg, and started beating me while I was hanging upside-down. My head was hitting the dresser.
When I first remembered that, I thought it meant the flashbacks weren't real, because (you see) I saw the entire scene from above. I later learned that this is VERY common for people who have experienced severe abuses, especially with dissociative disorders.
2) I had nightmares, and not like you have ever had. My nightmares involved the abuse, and also fear for my life, running from evil men who tried to kill me. I had a nightmare once for about six months, every single night, more than once a night. I was falling through darkness, and I'd physically jump in my sleep. I would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, utterly terrified. This happened, more nights than not, for six years. I don't think that's what most people think of when they say "nightmares": Screaming in your sleep, waking with your heart pounding, praying to God that He'll take them away just for a night, just long enough for you to actually rest. You have no idea, vahn, what it is dread going to sleep.
3) "Mild" anxiety--What an understatement. More like crippling, devastating, purposeless terror. More often than not, I couldn't find a real reason that I was anxious. A panic attack is painful. It has been likened to the pain of a heart attack. Your chest feels like it's caving in. Sometimes, I would vomit repeatedly because of the pain and the terror. Before anyone knew about my PTSD, when I was about 16 or 17, I was admitted to the ER for heart attack symptoms (which puzzled the heck out of the doctors, both because of my youth and general good health, and because the test results were all completely normal). Panic attacks also bring an impending feeling of doom or fear.
I used to wake up every morning between 4 and 5:30 AM with, and every evening after sunset have, the worst panic attacks I've ever had. I figured it out after a couple of years; I was having panic attacks at the very times my dad would have been at home when I was a child.
4) I dissociated on and off for years after the abuse. Dissociation is difficult to explain: I was still me when I dissociated, but it was like the memories didn't get stored. It is only recently that I have not been dissociating. I have blank spots in my memory as far back as I can remember. There were times when I would sit at a computer working, and all the sudden, I had a floppy in each hand and no idea what I'd been doing for the last hour. I once was driving to a destination an hour away, and dissociated during the drive. When I was present again, I didn't know which freeway I was on or even which direction I was going. It was terrifying.
But I don't have separate personalities. At times of high stress or high emotion, my brain has created a barrier that blocks the memories. That protected me when I was a child, but now it had begun interfering with my life.
5) Bad coping skills. I suppose some people have never gone through the things I have and can't understand that kind of pain. They can't understand praying themselves to sleep every single night or falling asleep over their bibles, only to wake in the most horrific terror they have ever endured.
For me, I don't think medication was the best choice (except to stabilize and allow me a little sleep). What I needed was intensive therapy, which I didn't get. At 5 years old, a Christian counsellor told me that daddy hitting me was just spankings and that it meant he loved me enough to discipline me. Those words were probably the worst words I ever heard. In one sentence, this woman with a mail-order counseling certificate told me that I needed discipline and that what my dad did to me was normal and GOOD. The thing is, my dad NEVER hit me to discipline me. He hit me because he was stressed from work and I was playing too loudly in my room, or he was screaming at my younger sister and to protect her I said "She didn't do anything," or because he put me in the corner of a room and (while seated in a chair behind me) screamed into the back of my head and hit me any time I made a noise, INCLUDING CRYING (at 5 or 6 years old).
And in my pain and loneliness (because, you see, my friends had all stopped talking to me when I became sad and withdrawn, and my mom was in a drunken haze every day), I began to hurt myself, just so that the panic attacks would stop for a little while and I could sleep. I don't know quite why I did it, but I know it wasn't something I learned from others. And I was ashamed of it, deeply ashamed. And it scared me so much that I told a therapist and went to a hospital for it twice, long before I even thought of openly talking about it. I hid my scars. I didn't want anyone to know what I'd done, but I was so scared because I couldn't stop. This was a true addiction. There's a large body of research about the chemicals and hormones in a child's brain when they're raised in an abusive environment.
Vahn, I lost everything. I was an extremely bright student, but I didn't even get my high school diploma. I failed out of college. I lost every friend I had. Every. Single. One. I couldn't have a normal relationship because my mind and concept of love was so screwed up. I had a lot of self-hatred, because I believed I was a bad person who needed to be punished.
It is by God's grace and overwhelming love that I stand where I am today. And He didn't heal me because I did all the right things or anything like that.
About two years ago, I had just broken up with my fiance. A pastor (husband of a friend) pulled me aside and asked how I was. And honestly, I was upset. I had lost the man I loved, and I was so deeply damaged that I didn't believe I'd ever be lovable again. I told him, "I know that Paul's problems didn't go away, but I already went through the abuse and the flashbacks and nightmares. Why should I keep going through them? I know I just need to accept it and move on, but I can't even remember things like my first kiss with Sean."
The pastor said, "I know you won't believe me right now, but God wants me to tell you something. He loves you, and He is going to make you whole. Now, you might not get back all your memories (and a lot of them, you probably wouldn't want), but sometime, you are going to stop losing them, and God is going to heal you of this."
And that has begun to happen. Now, when the pastor gave me that word from God, I was angry at Him for that very thing. I didn't think He was really listening. And even in my rebellion and deep dark sadness, He made a promise to me. He didn't tell the pastor to say, "If you do X, Y and Z" or "When you turn from your rebellion." He just made a beautiful promise to me. And I believe God keeps His promises, regardless of what else happens, just as He promised the wayward nation of Israel to establish her as a nation and bring her back to her land.
I no longer dissociate. I no longer self-injure. I no longer have the nightmares. I have a panic attack maybe once in four or five months. My anxiety and depression have abated for the most part (though I still have them). And this isn't because of me, but because God loved me enough to bring me back to Him when I was broken and make me new.
Now, Maggie and vahn, do not quote me or twist my words for your own purposes. I wanted to make sure you both understand that I have had a SEVERE mental illness. I was on disability and SSI because I was unable to work. I now am able, by the grace of God, to work 40+ hours a week. It would be heartless to quote this and make it all something it isn't. So, please, just let my words be a testament to the pain I endured and the transformation God can bring to a life void of hope.