Saturday, June 20, 2015

What Truly Matters

Forcing myself to sit and write without any set agenda except to write. My purpose is to write. I am a writer. I am writing.

"Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to this world, do you submit to its rules: Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch"?  - Colossians 2:20,21.

Life changes when you become a Christian. Since college, on my day planner, I daily write "WHAT TRULY MATTERS?" as a reminder life is precious. I'm especially realizing this as I reread my old journals and find I recorded stupid stuff like what my crush wore to school each day. Or some kid laughed when I fell. Thirty years later, who cares? What will happen today that seems so devastating to you, yet in 6 months, you won't even remember it? Do you watch the latest episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? Or do you make a handmade card for your dear friend with cancer? Do you stay in bed, wallowing in bitterness? Or do you force yourself to write articles on ways God has blessed you?

What truly matters? Live on purpose. Find your passions and live them.

How do you want to be remembered? Let me share my list with you:
* Jesus is real to me. I feel Him in my presence. I have never questioned His existence. I believe all the hardships that happen in my life are signs He believes I will always follow Him. For those familiar with Job, I believe God has given Satan permission to "mess with me" because God knows I am strong enough in my faith that I can face anything with Christ. I hope I am not letting Him down.
* I am a fighter. Yes, I have multiple limitations which hem me in, but I believe many of them are to keep me from temptation. When I was homeless, if I didn't have cerebral palsy, who knows what I would have done for money. But because I see CP as a strike against men's attractions to me, certain options are off the table. AT THE SAME TIME, God showed me I don't give myself enough credit when I refused to sell myself to have heat and a safe place to live. God instilled morals in me.
* I also want to be remembered as a someone who never took people's kindness for granted. So many people have helped me, loved me, kept me going on when they didn't have to. I always pray God will bless them beyond belief since I have no way to express my gratitude.
* And I want to be seen as someone who, while she needed a little help, she did all she could to make her own way without taking handouts. God has given me so many gifts to use to bless others, and I want to do just that.
*Finally, I want to be remembered as a writer - recluse who loves the ocean, away from crowds and worldly distractions. This, I admit, can be for selfish reasons. I'm an advocate to the core, and when I see people being unfairly treated, I have difficulty balancing my role without personalizing  the circumstances. Then that steals my peace and interferes greatly with my health.

That is my list to guide me in my day to day activities. I don't do things as the world does. I don't float passively in the lazy river of society. I have died to the flesh and live for Christ.

Remember that.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Not Trusting Doctors

Today I'm feeling the intense desire to isolate. Monday was extremely emotional as it was the last day I saw my doctor after close to 18 mths. I don't trust doctors. I don't trust myself. Medication scares me. When I was in college, I was put on Xanax because I had a friend tell me "it was good stuff". That was in 1993_ and I saw many doctors the next 20 years, all of who prescribed me Xanax for my anxiety. Xanax should only be used for temporary crisis and/or emergency situations. Most of those years, I only took pills on major holidays. One prescription would last me two years yet every time I went to the doctor, I was given prescriptions. Thank God I didn't fill them.

But 2010, life became unbearable, and my only relief was Xanax. Taking it every day, I developed a tolerance, needing more and more to affect me. Very soon, my life was in a fugue. Granted, circumstances were truly life threatening aside from the Xanax... Any one would have a nervous breakdown with the experiences at the time. I lost all my friends, trusted no body, had no money, no safe place to sleep... Truly as close to hell as I have ever experienced. I remember begging God to please let me die! I couldn't escape! I çouldn't get out of my life. Living scared me... It was like a monster chasing me nonstop. Breathing was increasingly laborious, paranoia was legitimate (even proven), it was an endless, uphill race. I needed a rest and there was none. As if I was a felon on the run, there was no respite available... except for Xanax, which put me in a deep sleep where I could finally feel safe.

The doctor's solution for my mental state was Xanax, and it worked. Looking back, it was instrumental in keeping me alive! My hours were consistently in survival mode.

Glory to God, my life is better than it ever has been. I moved to a different city, have wonderful new friends, secure housing... Happy. And a major  reason is because my doctor got me off those destructive pills. Life is good.

My fear is a new doctor will put my on addictive mind altering drugs. Alcoholics can stay away from bars, recovering prescription pill addicts can't stay away from doctors.

I'm not worried about my ailments slowing me down... I'm worried about the doctors who treat my ailments.