A Gift Or A Curse? (part 2 of 2)

Continued from yesterday…

Hell has never been far from my thoughts; my own, personal one I’ve been forced to endure, and the one I would end up in if I didn’t walk the straight and narrow. It seems I’ve lived with this fear for so long now that I can’t recall what it felt like before I had it. This is especially not a good thing for someone like me—though I didn’t realize it until it had taken over—because I suffer from a panic disorder. For those of you that are unaware exactly what that is, imagine all the large and small fears you may have, exaggerate the emotions that you have when dealing with them by a hundred-fold, then add paranoia and physical symptoms to the mix. I can’t speak for everyone else, but that was the equivalent of one of my panic attacks when I allowed my depression to go untreated and it advanced. Simple things like my small fear of heights grew to gargantuan proportions, and I found myself unable to stand on a stool for fear I would fall; which would also then lead to the fear I would split my head open, etc..etc.. These fears I could cope with, the fear I had of the end I could not.

That show they air near the end of every year on Nostradamus about predictions for our world’s future is what started it for me. That show was a trigger for an illness that I was not aware that I yet had, and spiraled me downhill quickly. I couldn’t get the destruction that he predicted and the show depicted out of my mind; and all the while dealing with the fear of being left behind from the rapture and having to deal with the tribulation because Ijust wasn’t good enough to get to heaven, I was convinced. This fear literally began to drive me insane, and preoccupied my thoughts. I would sit at the kitchen table in front of my bay window nearly every night drinking coffee into the wee hours of the morning, while sobbing uncontrollably. During this time who came to my aid? Why Christians, of course! Do you know how they set out to help me? They told me that I was a sinner, and that the reason I was going through this is because I had sought out the help of a psychic in trying to locate my missing brother, and because of that I was being punished. Nice, huh? Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not including family in that jacked-up scenario; rather it was one of the women at church and her husband that I looked up to, who’d counseled my then-husband and I, and who I trusted completely. Yeah, here’s that not knowing who to trust in my life, creeping up again. With my head being screwed on backwards as it was, it didn’t take much convincing on her part to damn near destroy me. Continue reading “A Gift Or A Curse? (part 2 of 2)”