My Nana passed away yesterday, and the grief is reaching me on so many levels.  My Nana and I hadn't spoken in a couple of years, though I would send her cards.  She moved to Florida and  never told me that  she was going. Nana is my father's mother.  If you have not read, my earlier blog entries, my father is a cold, child molester and I was one of his victims.  So our relationship was complicated as she kept pressuring me to "make up with my father".  But once I outed my father for  abusing me, he threw me away like a piece of trash, and worse, he no longer  allowed me contact with my half-siblings.  Nana  never fought for me, never reported him to Child Protective Services, never fought for his other children's safety.
     But I also have nice memories of her, when she spent time with me when I was a little child.  But when I got accepted into agricultural vocational school, where I thrived, and loved it there, she began to try to crush  my dreams by telling me over and over that  my education was no good, and that I should go to public high school.  I loved Nana, but could not stand her at times, in my life.
      So, now there will be a wake and a funeral, where I will probably  see my father for the first time in 26 years, and that scares me.  I have such deep anger against him.  I'm afraid that I will want to hurt him, and  I hate feeling that way.  It is not the path of Jesus.  So, I will bite my tongue and refuse to acknowledge him.  Please pray for me.

     I thought that I would give an update of my status at this present time.  I think that overall, for me, I am doing pretty damn good!  Parts of this summer were very hard because I had days where I had flashbacks, bad memories, and even auditory hallucinations.  But  I have been able to cope with these things very well.  Yes, I cried, at times, but I did not want to die.  I'd get knocked down, but I'd get up amazingly well.  It has been this way since I got out of the hospital, in January.  Before, in my life, I would fall apart over every upset, and not know how to put myself back together.  Now I have been granted some type of power, it feels like, a power of great strength.  And I realize that I have been given a blessing, that I will forever treasure.
     It took decades to reach this point, 26 years of counseling, 26 years at different medication attempts, a year of Electro-Convulsive Therapy, numerous hospitalizations, and the prayers and love of many wonderful people.  I'm not saying that I will ever be cured, but I came to a revelation that life is good and I must really try to live it to it's fullest.
     I want to thank the people that love me, and thank God, for giving me strength to persevere.  Nothing I say, will ever be able to thank them enough.

     I think that one of the things, that carries me through all of my days, is my strong faith in God.    Every day, I pray, usually for someone else, but on my worst days I have pray for me.  And God listens to me, answering and fulfilling countless prayers for me.  My Pastor has called me a "Vessel", in other words, a conduit to God.  Strangers and people I barely know, constantly confide in me their problems and life stories.  I usually just listen, sometimes offering advice, if I have any. Most of the time I know that God has heard their stories through me, and I just pray.  I don't go to church as often as I should, and I haven't opened a Bible since I was a child, when I read it extensively.  I just know that to talk to God and to feel the presence of the Lord is what is really important.  
     But at times, I wonder if my ability to feel the presence of God, is a delusion.  You see, a year and a half ago, I also felt the presence of Satan.  I was in a bad state of mind, and refused to go to church for months because I felt that I was being followed by Satan, and didn't want to bring Satan into such a holy place like church.  Fortunately, this paranoid delusion went away, after treatment.
     Delusion or no delusion, I will not give up my faith in God.  When I  am falling apart God is there to listen, when people are often not.
      I feel You, Lord.  I know that You have granted me a most difficult journey in life, but You gave it to me because I am brave, strong, compassionate , and full of love for others.  With You, Lord, I want to help  as  many people suffering with mental illness as possible.

     Recently, a massacre was committed in a movie theater killing a dozen people, and injuring dozens more.  I refuse to name the killer because, I don't believe he deserves recognition.  I believe that he was mentally sick, but because he prepared for the killings in secrecy, I believe that he knew it was wrong.  If you are truly insane, you do not know the difference between right and wrong.  At least, that's what I've learned.  But because the news reports have claimed that he is an "undiagnosed Schizophrenic", people have "raised their eyebrows", to say the least. 
      It's tough admitting to anybody that you are mentally ill.  Most people react with surprise, to me telling them.  Some people distance themselves from me, letting their imaginary fears take over them.  And some people have ended friendships.  I'm still me, even though I have Schizoaffective Disorder.  I'm still "sweet, kind, and loving", as my friends and family have said.  I'd do almost anything for those I love, I'd give a stranger the shirt off my back.  I'm not violent, I wouldn't hurt anybody.  I know when my illness is trying to take over my mind, and I get help for it ASAP when it happens. 
      Mentally ill people get a bad reputation when sick people commit sick crimes, when in reality, only a few of us ever even think about committing crimes.  I think that the stigma against mental illness is one of the things that bothers me the most.  I'm fighting a tough battle against my illness, and I don't need discrimination thrown into it, it makes the fight so much harder.  I just want to be accepted.

     I know that "My Uncomfortable Mind" has a lot of tragedy written in it, but I want to make it clear, that I have a lot of happy days, and I am forever thankful for them.  I am also thankful for the people and animals that love me, and I am thankful for God.
     I believe that because I have lived through many horrible situations, that I can see the beauty in normality. Small things please me and make me happy.  I am thankful for my sanity (on my good days), I am thankful for my job, I am thankful for a nice place to live, for food everyday, for my good disposition, for understanding, and open-minded people around me, for being able to live in New England, for good medication, and awesome therapy......should I go on?

     I'll be glad when the summer is over.  I hate the summer and I also hate the holiday season, because they bring up a lot of old, bad memories and flashbacks.  Sure, its beautiful out there but the heat reminds me of when I visited my father in Texas, as a little child and he would make me stay outside in the yard, with no shade, under the hot, beating sun for hours, no matter the temperature, and nothing to drink.  And if he brought me into the house he would abuse me in perverse ways.  Either way it was torture.  I am thankful that I have escaped my past, but the memories seem to follow me everywhere and I can't shut them off.  I've been telling myself that I am strong, but I am a scared, little child inside.  I find myself depressed, sad, and angry at times.  I cry easily, lose my temper easily.  I have been hearing music that isn't there, a symptom of my Schizoaffective Disorder, which scares the Hell out of me because I feel like my mind is spinning out of control.  My PTSD leaves me with flashbacks, and fear, hurtling me back decades in my mind, to horrible moments.  I want to beat all this, I just don't know how.  Please, God, take all the bad stuff away and restore me with inner peace.

     Yesterday, while waiting at the Lowell Train Station, I had an interesting, spiritual experience.  I think that I heard the voice of God.  But he spoke to me intuitively, not in a booming tone as one might expect.
     I had just taken the train to Lowell, a city with a large drug population, lots of crime and inexcusable poverty.  I walked over to a bench to wait for my husband to pick me up and noticed a weary sad-eyed young woman, who looked to be in her young twenties.  Something inside me...the voice of God, I believe, told me to speak to her.  "Hi!  How are you?", I said.  She replied with: "I want to go home."  "I can't go home..."  I said: "Why not?"  She said: "I have no money for the train".  Without even thinking....the voice of God, I believe, told me to say:  "I'll give it to you...how much do you need?  She proceeded to tell me that she had just gotten out of jail for drugs and wanted to get out of Lowell for good, to get away from it all.  All the while she had tears in her eyes.
    I gave her the money and questioned myself, wondering if I had done the right thing.  But I watched her as she bought a train ticket, and not drugs.  She came back to sit beside me and thanked me profusely.  I said:  "The only thing I want you to do is help someone else, in need, someday.  That's how the world should be.  And try to stay away from drugs."  She nodded her head, tearfully.
     Did I really hear God speak to me or is this some delusion?  I prefer to believe that it really was the voice of God.  And if I got scammed, it only cost me a local train ticket.,