PTSD (Day 15)

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to bend over. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to bend over and take it like a man. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

 

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room, surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to shut the fuck up and take it, and remember who owned this school. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room, surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to sit quietly in this room until my departure. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

 

I remember once sitting in the corner of a room, surrounded by men. I was told that because of what I had done, there were going to be consequences, and for me to hand over my uniform. Hanging from the wall over my head was a cross.

 

The first was a toolshed. The second was a principal's office. The third was the back hall of a gymnasium. The fourth was a parsonage. The fifth was a church. The central theme of men controlling the situation and determining justice based upon their own agenda, all underneath the watchful gaze of the cross should have been enough to turn anyone away from God altogether. Or, at the very least, cause the symbol of the cross to be a hated one.

But one day I sat down with a pastor and shared this story with him. I told him that I had been clinically diagnosed with PTSD, and that my doctor had said it was given to me by the church. The pastor put his hand up and said "I would change that from the church to a church." 

 

Perhaps so. 

Some people might read those opening sentences with the recurring theme and use the quote "If wherever you go there's a problem, guess what?", insinuating that I am the problem. However, I can absolutely testify to the fact that more harm has been done by men acting under their supposed "authority from God" than by people wanting nothing to do with that authority. 

 

The majority of people who used to follow me on Facebook when I was a good little conservative republican Southern Baptist have either unfollowed me, or unfriended me. That's fine. They are probably seeing me as one of the people God refers to in I Timothy 4:1, when actually, I love God more than I think I ever have in my life. I just detest our so-called president, (who was impeached) which sadly, many of them think is God's angelic messenger--even comparing him to Jesus.

Jesus would be nauseated by that, and probably is. But I digress.

PTSD has been the catalyst in my life for the most good, and the most bad. For example, I deal with generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, major depressive disorder, and PTSD. But the three former have only made me twitchy and annoyed and sad from day to day. PTSD has made me contemplate suicide. I've attempted 4 times in my life, and contemplated dozens of times. But it has also given me a purpose: To find others who deal with the same thing, and uplift them with both Christian and/or secular encouragement. 

For those who say "Christian counseling is the only counseling you need.", again, let me respectfully disagree. As an example, I went to a counselor for weeks who had a cross on his wall, and the only thing I came away with was "pray more and the PTSD will be less". That's some first class textbook advice, let me tell you. It's about as worthwhile as telling a stage 4 cancer patient that if they will just pray more, God will heal them. 

 

Spoiler alert: God never promised he would heal our bodies. Jesus only said "Thy Will be done."

However, one day, I went out for dinner with former co-workers and something huge happened. I was sitting at the table in this crowded restaurant with my friends around me, and I got a sudden cramp in my leg. I quickly pushed my chair back to straighten my leg, and I inadvertently collided with the back of another chair at the table behind me. I turned, and to my horror, there was a little girl in the chair who looked terrified of what had just occurred. I apologized to her profusely, and then looked at her father and apologized to him over and over also. You could see the look on their faces of "Look, we don't know you. You scared our little girl. Kindly go back to your dinner and leave us the hell alone. This is awkward and you are upsetting us with your apologies."

I saw there was an empty chair at the end of our table, off to itself. I picked up my stuff and moved to that chair so I wouldn't accidently bump the little girl again. I love children more than anything in the world, and the idea of upsetting one mentally destroys me. As I sat down, one of my coworkers looked at me and said "Why did you move?" I told her I didn't want to risk making the situation at the other table worse. She smiled, put her hand on my shoulder, and said "You aren't going to make it worse. It's over now. They've probably forgotten all about it. Your anxiety is causing this. You love kids, and your depression and anxiety is making you relive it over and over. You're reliving it right now, aren't you?"

I nearly broke down. This woman without any type of psychology degree or medical licensing did more for me in that one moment than weeks of counseling by a person with a diploma on one wall and a cross on the other. Because she understood.

More harm has been done underneath emblems and symbols than we can ever know. Sometimes, the greatest encouragement comes from the chair next to you, rather than the chair across from you.

To be continued.