There are people in my life who think I've been brain washed and others who think I have gone insane and am being 'led' by crazies but you know what? What other people think of me is none of my business!! I know I am mentally healthy now, probably for the first time too. I do take daily medication which helps me to sleep and stay focused but has no drowsy-making or crazy-making side effects and I have been taking it for about 5 years now. I had the dose halved about 12 months ago and I feel good most of the time. So why do I choose to believe in God? Did someone put the idea in my head? I don't believe that is why....
As a child, I went to church for about a year. It was an Anglican church in a small town and I went there on Sundays with my younger brother and sister. The children in the congregation sat at the feet of the minister, drawing and colouring in as he delivered his sermon and then joined the adults in the adjoining hall for a light morning tea afterwards. I used to love that time away from home, hearing about a God who could replace the father I had recently lost and about his son Jesus, who loved all children. i prayed and dreamed of a day when I could meet these wondrous people and escape the nightmare I called life...I was only 5.
I remember times when I preached at my mother and how angry she would get. I also remember feeling very confused at being told I had to go to church to be close to God coz it seemed to me that if God was everywhere, then I could talk to Him anywhere. At some point, when I was about 9, I began to believe that I was evil, the idea came from my limited understanding of the 10 commandments..according to my young mind, my mother broke almost all of the commandments every day and so that made her evil - I figure then that because she broke them over and over and when I preached at her about it, became angry, gleeful and weird, that maybe she was actually THE devil - by my childish reasonings, if she was the devil and I was her child, that made me devils spawn. I had no real concept of what spawn was but my fear and terror when I reached that conclusion was very real and I carried it inside me until about 3 years ago, without even consciously being aware of it. Coz I stopped going to church at about 6 and had the Roman Catholic childrens bible for my reference point, as well as about a year with the Queensland mailbox bible club, my religious exposure was confused and limited and maybe even unhelpful. Add to that the ecumenical and compulsory RE classes in some of the primary schools I attended and I was pretty muddled on the subject Of spirituality and religion. Like a lot of people, I thought they meant the same thing.
At the age of 15, I lost my best friend in my lap and I swore (out loud) that I hated God and would never believe again. I could not comprehend how any God could take an angel like that from so many people who adored her and would miss her, when the obvious choice of who to take had been me - no one would miss me at all and certainly did not love me, as far as I was concerned - so I turned my back on God and all that He represented. It took me a while to change my heart coz I had spent so many moments praying to God alone that whenever things went wrong I found myself praying without thinking and I would get really angry and take it back, vowing never to believe again.
That went pretty well I thought. My life was miserable for most of the next 25 years. I was dreadfully unhappy a lot of the time but I had already faced that it would be and I resigned myself to just getting some courage and doing it till it was done. The only concession i granted God in those times, was the gift of my kids. I always believed they were gifts from God and even in my agnostic years, I believed that with all my heart (weird, I know).
The crunch came in 1998. I was spiralling out of control mentally, emotionally and physically and then I lost my father-in-law to suicide as well as a beloved uncle to cancer, all in the space of 4 weeks. I collapsed in on myself and went into a psychiatric facility for 6 days, only to lose my beloved Grandmother to sudden death the day after I came home. That shut me down almost completely and the only thing I refused to stop caring about was my kids. It was as if I no longer had enough energy to live any more but I was so worried about my babies and I made the effort to give them loads and loads of hugs even if I couldn't do another thing - and pretty much, for the next 6 months, I couldn't so much more than that. I lost all interest in everything I had enjoyed before, I stopped watching tv and movies, reading, going anywhere, seeing anyone, I wouldn't even talk on the phone (to anyone) unless it was really important and I hardly ever thought anything was important enough.
I remember standing in my loungeroomcoz He gave up on me, years ago. That's the last thing I want to do. I used to pray and pray to God to help me and He never did, no way". Suddenly, my mind began replaying all of the prayers from my childhood, on at a time, and while those prayers were replaying, I was seeing how each one had in fact been answered - EVERY PRAYER I HAD EVER UTTERED HAD BEEN ANSWERED - I just hadn't ever noticed. Some of my prayers were answered quickly and some not, some were obviously what I had asked for and some not so obvious but every single one had been heard and answered - I was sure of it in that moment. I cried then. I cried for me and I cried for God. How could I have been so blind? I opened my heart and prayed: "God, if you really are real and I'm still not sure if you are yet, if you care about me at all, and I'm not sure you would want to after all I've done and said, but God, please help me to escape this hell I'm in, help me to help myself coz I dunno if I can take anymore and I dunno what else to do, please God, I won't make any promises I can't keep but I will say that if you just help me to help myself and my kids, I'll open my heart to you again and do whatever I can to keep it open. Amen"
I was scared and shaken and still stunned by the earlier revelations about my childhood prayers and I wanted so much to discount it all and say I was psycho but something in my heart told me this was real and I tried really hard not to pull it all apart and make it nothing. I went to bed and as always, I tossed and turned for hours before dozing into my 4 or 5 hours of dreamless sleep that was my lot. The next night, I realised that if was going to get any better, I needed sleep. How could any person survive unscathed on a few hours a night? I had been insomniac for years and I'd had enough. I began to say "The Lord's Prayer". Why not, it couldn't hurt and it might even help. I still took hours to get to sleep but I felt a bit better. I decided I was starting too big and I would get my kids to help me next day so I did. My kids went to a Catholic school coz I wanted them to know God so they could decide for themselves. I never intended for them to BE catholic, I just figured that if they knew nothing at all about any God, they could hardly make an informed choice on what they did or did not want to believe in. I asked my kids to teach me a childrens prayer, something simple. Since my kids were 8 and 5 at that time, they only knew simple ones anyway. That night, I began: "Now I lay me, Down to sleep, I pray the lord, My soul to keep, If I should die, Before I wake, I pray the lord, My soul to take, Amen". I tried for weeks and my mind would wander off onto other things almost straight away but I persevered and tried eve to visualise images for the words which I really found hard but, after about 6 months, I realised I rarely got to Amen anymore, because I fell asleep!! And you know what, any time I struggle to get to sleep, I say that prayer and I'm asleep in moments. Most night's I say it anyway coz I love God and I love myself and it feels respectful and loving to say that prayer. I don't care how old I get, or what anyone else thinks of me - me and my God have an understanding and it carries me on wings of love and faith and I will never turn my back on God again, just as He never actually left me.
In June 2003, I had an experience that re-strengthened my belief in God, although I din't see it straight away. I'm not sure why but I must have forgotten God again, or maybe I just wanted to be with God so badly, and didn't realise I can be with God anytime, I'm really not sure. I was at the very bottom of an enormous pit and could see no way out. I had been attempting suicide over and over for weeks and hadn't told a soul. I wasn't interested in crying out for help - I wanted to die and escape the pain of being but, there came a point when I realised that I did not want to die, I just couldn't stop trying to make it happen. I rememeber telling my doctor finally and saying to him: "I don't want to die. I feel like there is a murderer inside me and I can't get away from them". I did not understand why I said that, it was just how I felt at the time. I really didn't want to die but felt compelled to keep trying to suicide. I was terrified and felt no hope. I truly believed that my kids were the ones paying the price for me holding onto life so hard and I wanted more than anything to make things better for them, the trouble is, I thought the most loving thing I could do for my kids was to die. One day, I decided I was through 'attempting', that I had to make up my mind and get this right. I told a friend I was dying and then went for a walk, where I bought 48 paracetamol tablets and a 6 pack of overproof bundy mixers. I went to the public loos and downed the lot and then I drove home, got a pair of pj pants, a big knife, a slab of booze, anti depressants and drove to my favourite spot by the river. I figured I would try every method available and if all else failed, I could drive into the river, thereby overcoming any unconscious will to live. Sad, I know, but I was desperate. I was determined to get it right - finally - and stop 'mucking around' (as I told myself I had been up until now). I had no idea that it was out of my hands at that stage. As I drove along the bank, I noticed that the water was up too high for me to go where I had intended so I turned away from the river to go back to another spot I knew and.......... my car got bogged! I screamed, swore and cried. Eventually I got out and put the pj pants in the tailpipe and getting back in the car, turned on the ignition. I opened a can of beer and sat holding the knife. I was very scared of cutting myself again (as I had tried this a week ago and it hurt) but I was so angry with myself too, why couldn't I do this one thing for my kids if I loved them so much? I was freezing cold so I turned the heater on and, realising I had been there for a while, I wondered why nothing was happening yet. I though maybe I could try to un-bog the car and got out to have a look. Imagine my fury when I saw that the pants had flown out of the exhaust pipe. I stuffed them back in and got baqck in the car, wet, cold and angry, determined. Turning the ignition, I heard a distinctive 'pop' from the back. I got out to have a look and sure enough, the pants had flown free again. I jammed them in as hard as I could and re-started the car - another 'pop'. I screamed my frustration and decided to forget that idea, I had many more. As I considered each one, I began to feel sick and cold. I was shaking so hard with the cold that my teeth were chattering and I was aching from shaking. I took another sip of beer and almost heaved. I knew if I was sick, the tablets would come up so I tossed the booze away, and the knife, and sat crying. I was tired and desolate and cold and I needed this to work. I could not face another day of my miserable, painful life. I decided to turn the heater on for a while coz I was at least entitled to die in comfort, right? I dozed on and off and eventually, I looked at the clock, I had been there for 5 hours! I figured 8 hours was long enough to do the trick (some info my poor unsuspecting dr had shared) and I began to rejoice - I was finally doing it, I was getting this right this time! I had already considered the possibilty that I might feel tempted to use my mobile phone to tell someone so I had discounted that possibly coz I had no credit. Now though, 5 hours after arriv ing at the river, I was feeling ravenously hungry and I convinced myself that even someone on death row would be granted a last meal. I thought about it for a while, although I felt delirious, and eventually, I called 000 and asked for a peice of cheese. I feel so sorry now for the poor, dear woman who took that call and she was an angel. I had no problem telling her where I was and what I had done coz all of my focus was on my imagined last meal and I was ure it was too late for anyone to help me anyway. How wrong I was. An ambulance eventually arrived and got bogged too - funnily enough, it was me who told them how to get un-bogged and we made our way to hospital, some 60 minutes away. By my calculations, by the time we arrived, it would be too late for medical staff to do anything and that was fine by me. I very nearly succeeded and it took me a long time to consider that perhaps God had a hand in my surviving that night. I had to be monitored for a year until the effects on my liver had healed and by then, I was mortified at just how close I came to succeeding in my quest. I wish that suicide was not ever considered by anyone and especially me. It is such a final and permanent decision and affects so many people, causes so much pain and anguish. It was so hard in the grip of suicidality to see how much others loved and needed me and so easy to convince myself that no one would care, notice or miss me. I was wrong. I survived that night and soon after, I began to see another way out of the pain and I grabbed that instead and I'm still holding on. You see, I realised that instead of dying, I could change it all. I don't know why I never saw that before then. Maybe I did see it but didn't feel I had the power to change anything. Maybe surviving that night was what I needed to see some sort of flicker of hope. I dont know but now, my life is spent giving people the information and support they need to step into their own lives and make whatever changes they need to make to want to stay alive. I have devoted myself and my life to God in this way and I could think of no greater purpose and no greater joy. I still struggle with guilt over what I have put my kids through and I wish it could have been different for them.
Although it has been suggested to me as I have healed, that spirituality is an important part of healing, no one has ever tried to tell me what to believe in or who God should be for me and I think that is important too. I believe that people need spirituality but I also believe that is every persons right and privilege to find that for themselves and express that in their own way. I would never want to tell anyone else what to believe in and I have had that role-modelled to me for the past 7 years. That has been a most invaluable gift and experience for me and it has opened my own mind, eyes and heart to a spirituality that means more than any religion. I have no religion, I have spirit, and I have a belief that sustains me, a faith that carries me and God that loves me, I am blessed and I am grateful and I really do not care what anyone thinks of me for believing what I believe. xoxoxo thank you God, I love you xoxoxo
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