Origin Story - Finding Help
So, there I was, summoned to the head shed once again, thanks to my roommate's concern. He thought I was "disturbed," and funny enough, he was in the same boat as I was. The reason for his worry? My prayer. Unlike him, I had picked up a thing or two about praying at some 12-step meetings, though I couldn't really say who or what exactly I was praying to at the time.
A Pivotal Conversation: The meeting with the psychiatrist was brief yet unforgettable. He seemed almost amused by my faith, asking pointedly about my prayers and whether I believed God communicated back. In a defiant moment of irritation, familiar with this kind of scrutiny, I retorted, "Of course I do. Don’t you?" That earned me the label of 'psychotic' on my file, and I left the room feeling like I might never breathe fresh air again, bound for a state hospital.
The Unexpected Guide: Amid this chaos, with no one sane around and feeling detached even from my religious roots, I reached out in desperation. I called a nearby Catholic church, and by some stroke of serendipity, Father Raphael answered. Within minutes, he was there with me. His comforting presence and the simple yet profound assertion that "God speaks to everybody, very few listen," marked a turning point for me. It was a powerful reminder that sometimes, you need to seek meaning in your encounters deliberately.
A Dark Night of the Soul: Following my enforced sobriety and subsequent relapse into drinking, I experienced what some might call a psychotic break. Alone on a mountain top, with lightning as my only companion and haunted by voices of the past, I hit my lowest. The darkness was profound and terrifying. But it was the gentle hand and reassuring words of another psychiatrist, telling me she was there to help, that brought me back from the brink.
A Cry for Help: One lonely night, overwhelmed with an indescribable fear and feeling utterly disconnected from any divine presence, I reached out to my best friend to pray for me. That night, alone and broken, I made the most sincere prayer of my life. I wasn't calling to any specific deity; I was simply begging for help. It was a true moment of surrender, of admitting that I had no control and was entirely done with my old ways.
Reconnecting and Rebuilding: The morning after my night of surrender was pivotal. I visited my mother for the first time in two years. The pain and relief in her eyes when I told her I was going to try to change my ways, to embrace a 12-step program, were overwhelming. As I sat with her, I realized the impact of my actions not just on her, but on my entire existence.
Moving Forward with Mindfulness: This journey has taught me the power of being present and the importance of being mindful of the paths we tread. Identifying and labeling my thoughts and feelings has given me a semblance of control over them, preventing them from dominating my life. It’s a continuous process, one where I urge everyone to seek support, be it through friends or professional help.
In reflection, I realize the significance of each step, each moment of despair, and each beacon of hope on my path. They’ve shaped me, and I hope by sharing this, they might illuminate a path for someone else too.
