Re-Introduction

Allow me to introduce myself… again.  After taking several years to address health issues, unable to be gainfully employed, multiple changes (doctors, relocating, changing friends, lots of reading and reevaluation), current events stir the passion in me where I cannot sit back and watch how people with disabilities are being treated. I’ve never been one to sit back and watch while injustice, even chaos, is taking place.
Since I am not the same person I was 6 months ago, I am creating a lifestyle that fits who I have become. Having the ability to change is as difficult as making the decision to change. There are losses, additions, new people, unfamiliar experiences… basically, a whole new life. If you’re lucky, it’s exciting… but rarely is it always fun.
It takes courage, determination, and perseverance.
So here goes. Hi, my name is Shelly. I believe everyone should be given the opportunity to dream, and work hard to make those dreams reality. As we each find our individual purposes in this world, there’s a beautiful world out there.

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.

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.

Life Changes

A few days ago, I was accepted into a Writer's Accountability Group. The honor and joy it brought was through the roof. The season of life I am in is better than I've experienced ever and it keeps getting better. The possibilities opening up to me are incredibly challenging. The contrast from the recent years of my life versus now is beyond description. I went from rock bottom where it literally pained me to living in my favorite city in the world. I left the abusive environment where I had spent most of my life, left all the traumatic memories, and probably most prominently, I left my abusers. I am safe for the first time in my life.

Childhood wasn't safe, yet I didn't know any better. I knew I was being hurt, I told people I was being hurt, it felt wrong, dirty, disgusting... yet I was never validated. When you're a child, and your parent tells you your feelings are irrational... you believe your parent. Not only with that incident, I learned not to trust my feelings. Imagine touching a hot stove and burning your finger. It hurts! Yet you are told by someone you respect, "oh, you're fine. That didn't hurt...".

Bottom line. It messes you up. Bad. And in a long term, disruptive way.

I am writing this on my cell phone in a bed with a horrible migraine. Side note: I have no idea why these words are being underlined, but I'm determined to continue writing so I'll try to fix it later. I'm trying to meet my word goal for the day so I keep writing.

Back to my initial thoughts, I don't want to - how can I put this- I don't want to make my writing all about me. I want to use my experiences to relate to readers, in combination with my psychology background, in hopes or educating people.

Bottom line- we only know what we experience. We can't compare our degree of pain with others because, for example, if you've never been homeless, you will never fully appreciate a warm, safe bed. I will never take a safe warm bed for granted again because I haven't always had it.

Believe it or not, there are long term effects of even temporary homeslessness. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder often replaces the homelessness situation. There's always a fear if you've been homeless before, it can happen again. That sticks in the back of your head. Plus, you don't want to leave your home because you fear your home won't be there when you come back. And you don't trust people, because the people who allowed you to be homeless before would likely allow you to be homeless again.

All this to say, everyone is fighting their own battles. Life is hard. Make a resolve to press on. Don't give up.I'm letting God lead my writing, feeling He has brought me this far to help others. Not sure how much I will personally share, particularly because the more I share, the more psychosomatic illnesses I acquire.

Which leads me back to the purpose of this blog. I know why I am in bed hiding under the covers writing this. One word- Trigger. When I told someone I was being sexually abused in middle school, I was told it was normal. All kids play doctor. I saw something on TV today that, well, sent me into a tail spin. I've known this on some level, but hearing this today... I'm questioning my whole life. I'll try attaching the video below.

If you are a child being molested, know it is not normal. I know it's hard to talk about and even harder to get someone to believe you... but if you tell a doctor or a therapist, by law, they must report it. Please, get help.

Depression is a Blessing

I'll admit, for the first time since I moved to Tallahassee, I crashed. I was in bed all day yesterday clinically depressed. I am only admitting this to show depression doesn't ever go away. I wasn't suicidal or anything, just could not get out of bed. I ignored phone calls because I wasn't THAT bad. This past week was too much for me. Too much social interaction. For instance, I felt guilty for not going on that date because maybe he wanted me to tell him why I am always reading the Bible. I still feel guilty about not being in church since Easter. Guilt, guilt, guilt. But after finally reaching out to Cathy, I believe I need to hold on to what God keeps telling me- He wants me for Himself right now. No distractions. He is preparing me for the next season. In conclusion, no more will I woe about all my health issues. I will embrace them as blessings the remind me I need to not feel guilty for staying home. I need to. I will block out the world and commune with Jesus...

Writing Direction

My mom is truly a medical prodigy. We've had our problems (understatement) yet physicians consult with my mom with medical cases. She is truly gifted in anatomy and physiology... not so much neuropsychology, that's my area. Still, I'm book taught... she's gifted taught. So I called to tell her I feel fine, no anxiety, no depression...I'm good. The problem is I have lost control of my bowels twice this morning. Why? After a few questions, she figured it out. I was writing about the abuse Vietnam Veterans suffered, homeless vets, and homeless people with mental illnesses. Mom wisely told me all those things upset me. True. I'm trying to figure out God's will for my life. My mother wisely said, "Shelly, you know the Bible better than anyone I know. You are calmest and healthiest studying the Bible and spending time with Jesus. I think you should focus all your writing on Bible study."  Wow. I felt the Spirit wash over me at that moment. I had goosebumps all over my body. This felt prophetic. As of today, all of my writing will now be Biblical application for God's glory.

Sometimes you have to block out the world