Hi, my name is Jathan. I’m a 64 year-old man and this is my story…
(***Warning! There may be parts of my story that may be triggering to some regarding food addictions and eating disorders… Just a heads up.***)
A Bit of History
I was born on a Sunday on September 3rd, 1961. Florida was none for it muggy, humid and hot days. Especially where I was born, just south of Miami.
Me just days old with my dad.
18 months
My dad was enlisted in the military and was deployed overseas once in Vietnam. But most of my dad’s assignments were state side, meaning that we mainly stayed in the lower forty-eight states. There were only two time we lived outside the lower forty-eight states: Alaska and the Philippines. The reason that my dad stayed ‘state side’ for most of his military career was because my mother’s parents were getting older and they didn’t want to be in a position where they couldn’t get to them in time if needed. Except for Florida, Alabama and the Philippian Islands, most of my childhood was spent out west – California, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado, Alaska, Washington State, Illinois… and others that I can’t remember. We moved sixteen times during the twenty years my dad was in the military.
School – a Cuss Word
Growing up, school was really hard on military kids. Both me and my brother struggled with it. Personally, I always felt out of place. I was the fat little kid that everyone picked on. I remember every year, when it was time for the school year to start, my mom would always have to get school clothes for me that had the word ‘Husky’ on the label – not ‘Large’ – ‘Husky’.
I was a below average student enrolled in ‘special education’ classes since I was labeled a ‘slow learner’. I also had to go through speech therapy for reasons I won’t go into now. Maybe someday.
Oh, and gym – I hated it. I’m the one that can say ‘I flunked gym’ and I would be telling the truth. I was always the last one standing after everyone else got picked for teams. You know it’s bad when the final team says, “I don’t want him, you take him.” In the end, the coach had to step in and assign me to a team despite the protests.
Church life
Growing up, everything centered around church. Whenever the doors were open, we were there, no matter how we felt. It was the place where I might make at least one kind-of friend—not necessarily a best or close friend, but still a friend. We’d play together and hang out, but just when we started becoming ‘real’ friends, my family would have to move again to another base where my dad was assigned.
Everything was pretty much the same, except for the three years we lived in Alaska. There, my parents would drive fifty miles each way just to take us to church on Sundays. My only real friend was the pastor’s daughter, and we were inseparable. We did everything together. On Sundays, we’d spend the whole day at church until the evening service ended, which gave me and “my girl” plenty of time to hang out.
The church had a house within walking distance where the Pastor and his family lived, and they would always welcome us into their home for the day.
I remember one particular Sunday, after church that morning, when my dad took the three of us—my brother, “my girl,” and me—on a dogsled ride. He hopped on a snowmobile and pulled the sled behind him with us on it. My brother sat in the front, “my girl” right behind him, and I was standing on the back, gripping the bars for dear life. He led us down a trail full of rolling bumps, when suddenly the tongue of the sled came loose and dug into the ground, bringing us to an abrupt stop. I, standing at the back, went flying over the front and landed about fifteen feet ahead. Luckily, there were no serious injuries—just a scraped nose and a bruised ego.
Like I mentioned before, my girl and I did everything together. The only catch was she was about six years older than me. I think I was around ten at the time, but it never crossed my mind as an issue—I had a real friend. Apparently, though, spending time with an older girl was a big no-no. Or maybe it was the other way around—a sixteen-year-old girl hanging out with a ten-year-old boy. Either way, people frowned on it. Eventually, her parents talked to her and told her she needed to stop being so close to me.
Fast Forward to the Ripe Old Age of Sixteen
My dad requested to be assigned to a base in Florida so we could be closer to my mother’s parents. Mom was worried about their health – and with good reason; they were getting up there in years. It was the same routine we had in Alaska, with my parents driving over fifty miles one way to church on Sundays. This time, though, we spent weekends at my grandparents’ house. Eventually, my dad retired from the military and bought us a home in the next town over from them.
When I was sixteen, I left regular school because I had fallen so far behind. I enrolled in a trade school to work toward my G.E.D., and around the same time, I started my first job at Taco Bell. They might not appreciate me sharing this, but it was a turning point in my life.
I was the prep person responsible for getting the day’s food stock ready – cooked beans, beef, taco shells – basically everything we’d need. I also handled the cold items like lettuce, tomatoes, and my favorite – cheese. I’ve always loved cheese! Back then, it came in massive blocks, and part of my job was making sure we had enough shredded for the day. I used a wire to cut it into manageable chunks for the industrial shredder. One day, while prepping cheese, I couldn’t resist snacking. I’d slice it into shredder-sized blocks, but I’d also sneak small pieces into my mouth when no one was looking. That day, I ate so much I nearly made myself sick. I went to the bathroom and forced myself to throw up. It was scary and felt wrong, but oddly relieving. I told myself I’d never do it again, but over time, one purge led to another until it became a habit.
My Escape
I became a full-blown bulimic over the course of a year. Every time I binged on something, I would go and purge. Afterwards, I felt numb, then shame. I was stuck in a cycle I couldn’t control, and I just couldn’t stop myself. I loved food! I found a way where I could eat what I wanted, when I wanted, and then get rid of it. As time went on, over the years, I started losing weight doing it. They say that bulimics normally don’t lose weight, they just maintain it or gain weight. Why? Because they say when a person binges and then purges, they really don’t get rid of everything they eat. That wasn’t true in my case. I was so bad off that eventually every meal I ate, I found myself getting rid of it – all of it. I perfected it to the point that I didn’t have to ‘force’ myself to do it. I was able to do it at will. When I purged, I made sure my stomach was completely empty. No more fingers down the throat, no bruised knuckles, no scratchy voice. I was a master of my own demise. That’s how I lost the weight. At one point, when I was in my twenties, I was even purging after drinking just a glass of water. Which is dangerous because of the possibility of becoming dehydrated. The sad thing is, no one knew it or had any idea of what I was doing to myself. I kept it hidden from everyone. I had it down to perfection. Not even my parents realized I had a problem with it.
Meeting a Girl
When I was about twenty-three, I met a girl at the church I was going to. I’ll use the name Karen just out of respect. You’ll understand as we go along. We dated for a while, broke up, I started dated another girl, broke up with her then started dating the Karen again. Word of advice. If your young and dating, don’t break up with a girl and then start dating her sister. It just doesn’t work. Anyway, I asked Karen to marry me once, but she got upset and called it off because I thought about getting the engagement ring from a pawn shop. To think about it now, I can’t blame her. That sounded rather cheap. So that was the end of that relationship.
Leaving Home
I lived at home until I was about twenty-four. I was so messed up by that time in so many things – the bulimia (the eating disorder), pornography, sexual perversion – I was trapped. I had to get out. That’s when I moved to Alabama. If you remember earlier, I said that my dad was stationed there once when I was kid. My parents made some close friends during that time. So, I took the opportunity to stay with one of them for a while until I could find a job and a place of my own.
It’s funny to think about the time I stayed with them. One day, when they were gone to work and I was ‘home alone’, I thought I would help them by cleaning house for them. When I went to the kitchen, it was time to do the dishes. They had a dishwasher, which my parents never had one that I can remember. I proceeded to load the dishwasher and added the soap. I learned really quick that you do not put regular dish soap in the dishwasher. I had suds coming out from everywhere – and boy, was it a mess!
My first job that I could get was with an exterminating company that was family owned. I remember the very first apartment that I rented. It was from a lady that had split her house into a duplex. She lived in the front, and I lived in the back. Thankfully, she had it partially furnished. At least there was a bed.
After about a year, I found an apartment in a multistoried building that was one of my customers at the time. The name of the building where the apartment was located was called Capitol Towers in Montgomery. It was a one room apartment with a bathroom and a ‘kitchenette’. I had no furniture, just the clothes on my back. No bed, no chairs… nothing. I bought a sleeping bag for my bed – that was it.
Romance?!
Karen, the girl I proposed to in Florida, visited occasionally. And yes, she always stayed in a hotel. It eventually became a regular thing. On one of her trips to see me, before she left, she got into the car with the window down and asked me if I still wanted to get married. This is how dumb I was. I said, “sure, why not. We could give it a shot and see how it works”. What was I thinking?
The proposal was even worse. I had found a ring – and no, it was not from a pawn shop this time. It was from an actual store. Anyway, the day that it was to take place, I was sick like a dog. I remember both of us standing at the window of my apartment overlooking part of downtown. Instead of waiting until I felt better, I pulled out the box, handed it to her, and said, ‘here’s your ring’. I think about it now, and all I can say is – wow.
We did get married, despite the odds, in Florida. She then moved to Alabama to be with me. We lived in my one room apartment for about three months before we moved. The reason we had to moved was because someone tried to rob her one night when she went to go get us something to eat. She had just got back from picking up the food when some guy grabbed her from behind with a knife to her throat. She grabbed the guy’s arm, which was around her neck, and literally dragged him from the car to the door screaming – forcing him to finally let her go. We lived on the sixth floor at the time, which meant she had to get in the door with a code and then take the elevator to our floor before reaching our apartment. She was so shaken; it took a while for her to calm down. It sends chills up my back when I think about it even now. I remember that I felt uneasy just minutes before she was banging on the door to let her in. Needless to say, we move that same week.
Eating Disorder Sabbatical
Our next apartment was in a safer part of town on the east west side of Montgomery. Well, it was safe in the nineties, not so sure now.
Anyway, it was about the second week in that apartment. We still didn’t have any furniture – but we did get a bean bag and we had each other! One morning, my wife asked me, in a very loving way that I could not refuse, to stop throwing up. I think she was the only person who really knew of the disorder. So, I stopped. For thirteen years I refrained from purging. However, during those thirteen years, the real, underlying issues started to surface. I was masking something (medicating is a better term).
Insanity
I never really stopped going to church. Remember, I was brought up in it, and it was a major part of my life. Since I wasn’t purging anymore, the mask came off, the medicating stopped and I started having problems mentally. To think about it now, and from what I’m told, I had problems mentally all my life. The bulimia had become the ‘medication’ so that I could keep the symptoms of the mental disorder at bay. And all without realizing what I was doing.
I did a lot of things on compulsion – eating, buying things… even stealing from my employer. It finally escalated one day while I was watching something on TV. It wasn’t a good movie. I was lying on the floor and the thought of me being in one of the scenes in the movie startled me. Where someone would normally just brush it off, I couldn’t – even if my life depended on it. I even had panic attacks from it. eventually it had subsided. But it wasn’t over. Other things would start to bother me. It was bad! With no warning whatsoever, my mind would grab hold of a thought, something someone said, the way someone looked at me… it wasn’t bias. My mind would start racing ninety miles an hour, rehearsing scenarios over and over about different things. If it was a question about something that bothered me, I would run through scenarios in my mind to come up with an answer, a solution, where I felt relief. Then, I would go through the same scenario again to see if I could come up with the same outcome and feel the same relief. When I didn’t feel the same relief, I would run it though again, and again, and again… it would never stop. At times it was so bad that I couldn’t even function.
I remember when we went to my parents’ house, there were times that I just wasn’t present. What I was really doing was trying to get my mind to stop spiraling out of control. I was trying to get my mind to ‘be still’.
I started seeking help from different Pastors that would come and go from our church. At our church, pastors often used our church as a means to get to a larger church, or to a location that they wanted. It wasn’t because they were ‘bad’ pastors, they actually were good – all of them were. They just wanted better for their families, and I can’t blame them for that. But every time, whatever I was going though, it was out of their league.
I did get my wife Karen to go with me to see one of the pastors for counseling only to be made to feel like I should be able to control my compilations – and I had plenty. I was basically told to ‘grow up’. It left me feeling embarrassed, confused and numb from the session. Seriously, I didn’t know what to do. How could I explain something that I myself didn’t understand?
Getting to the Root of the Problem
By this time, we had our first house built. It wasn’t much. It was what some called a garden home. It was a two bedroom, two bath house. It was about twelve hundred square feet. Not very big. I was working for a furniture store at the time. My wife Karen was working for the same lawyer that she started with after we got married.
We lived in house for about five years, and it was during that time that I started to see a real Psychologist. He was a Christian Psychologist that I could trust. Not some secular Psychologist who would tell me a bunch of new age nonsense. That’s why I only went to Pastors up to this point. Anyway, after about the fourth visit, this kind and patient man, turned and asked me; “why do you keep bringing up the same thing every time you come in?” I couldn’t answer. Then, just out of the blue, it was like a lightbulb turned on over his head. He reached for a video tape and asked me to go into another room to watch it alone (this was when video tapes were still the thing). I watched the video and everything that it was addressing was exactly what I was going through. The video was on Obsessive, Compulsive Disorder (OCD). It described the different ways that OCD could manifest. I broke down and cried. What I had been going through all my life, as far back as I can remember, it had a name. Just knowing that, was like a fog lifted and I could see clearly what my issue was finally. But knowing what it was and doing something to correct it was totally different.
The Psychologist referred me to a psychiatrist who gave me the ‘official’ diagnosis and started me on medications. It took a while for the medications to start working. My brain finally started to behave somewhat. The medications didn’t cure the OCD, but it kept me from falling off the edge mentally.
Moving Forward
One day, my wife asked me to stop taking the medication because of the side effects that it was causing (it interfered with us being able to be intimate at times). I told her ‘No’, I was not going back to that ‘hell’ – and I meant it.
After about five years, we decided that it was time to sell our house. Karen didn’t want to buy another house; she wanted to rent. She always looked at divorce as a choice never removed from the table. But I was persistent on buying a house. I didn’t want to lose her. But during our house hunting, we separated while looking. She stayed with a friend of hers from work and I stayed with my parents. Yes, if you’re wondering, my parents and my brother moved to Alabama not too long after I did.
It was during that time, when I was staying with my parents, that I started purging again.
We finally found another house, but she was persistent that the house would just be in my name. So, we moved in and started a new chapter in our life. Time went on and things, life in particular, got worse. Things started getting out of control with the bulimia – add pornography addiction and you have a really messed up situation. I really don’t know why she stayed we me. It really started to take a toll on her big time. She would get really upset and aggressive, managing it the only way she knew how – just like her mom did with her dad.
I was addicted to both the bulimia and pornography and didn’t know what to do. The OCD didn’t help matters either, it only exasperated things. Like I said earlier, the medication didn’t cure the OCD, it just kept me going off the deep end mentally.
I Failed!
After about five year in our new house, we were at the point of no return. At least that’s what it looked like from our point of view. I even tried to get her to go to counseling again with me, several times. The problems that I was facing took a toll on our marriage. I did finally get her to agree to go, only for me – again, to feel foolish and broken when the session was over.
One night she had enough. Looking back, she was trying something called ‘tough love’. While I was in the office on the computer, she was cleaning up in the kitchen. Knowing that I had purged after eating, she came into the office with a cast iron skillet of beef and gravy and dumbed it into my lap and stormed out of the room.
Later that same night, I was still in the office after I had cleaned up. I don’t remember what I was doing – even to this day. I just remember that she was in our bedroom for what seemed like an eternity. What I didn’t know was that she was packing my bags. About thirty minutes later I heard the front door open, and she threw my bags out of the front door. She then went back to our bedroom and slammed the door. I was so messed up, I didn’t know what to do. So, I took a moment and saw the only opportunity to end the madness. I loaded my car with my bags and the desktop computer from the office (how stupid was that), got in my car and drove away. I was broken, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
The job I had at the time, I was a decorator for a major furniture company which had two stores that I was responsible for. One store was in Montgomery where we lived and the other one was in Birmingham, which was ninety minutes away depending on how fast you drove. Each week I had to drive that ninety minutes, three out of the five days that I worked. So, after loading my car that night, I headed to Birmingham. I did that because I had to be there the next day anyway, so I got a hotel room and put it on my credit card that I had. I finally found a place to live in a rundown apartment complex in Montgomery.
The Dreaded Seven Letter Word… Divorce!
After being separated for a while, divorce was inevitable. I didn’t know what else to do. She worked for a lawyer so she was able to draft up the papers for the divorce at no cost, but she had to be the one petitioning for the divorce so the lawyer would allow her to file it without charging her.
The divorce was finalized on September 8th, 2007.
Alone and Out of Control
By this time, the compulsive part of the OCD kicked in big time, and I went crazy with the credit cards that I had. Before, I had excellent credit – and I was out of debt minus the house mortgage. But after I left, most of everything that I did, I put it on credit. My rent, food, gas for the car; everything! In the space of about eight months, I racked up eighty thousand dollars in credit card debt. I wasn’t looking at how I was going to pay it back – I was out of control. I eventually had to file for bankruptcy.
Following the divorce, still dealing with the OCD, eating disorder, and pornography, I began to drink a few glasses of wine occasionally to numb my feelings even more.
One day a year later, as I was driving back to Montgomery from Birmingham, I suddenly felt the power of God. I knew that’s what it was, I’ve felt it before. I had to pull over to the side of the road because I started bawling like a baby. I picked up my cell phone and called the only two people that I thought would still care – my parents. They were surprised to hear from me. I had stopped contacting them some time after my wife and I separated the first time. They knew that it was going to be a challenge, but they took me into their home to stay.
More Baggage
When I moved in with my parents, I brought all the baggage with me. Among all the other issues, alcohol was starting to take its toll as well. I went from having a couple of glasses of wine to consuming a whole bottle in one setting. Before I knew it, I was consuming hard liquor and struggling with alcoholism. I had my fair share of issues, to put it mildly, but I never thought I would be an alcoholic.
I was what you would call a functioning alcoholic. No matter how drinks I drank, I could keep it together. There were a couple of times when I drank so much that I could have died from alcohol poisoning. I kept it a secret from everyone around me, including my parents. I had some sober periods, but they were usually followed by relapses.
Consequences
I had several encounters with the Police while intoxicated but was able to avoid being arrested until one day I went too far. I went on a hike by myself, and I was drunk. Normally, as I said before, I could keep it together and keep track of what was happening around me. But not that day. It was on a Saturday and on that Saturday, it was a whole different story. I passed out and some hikers found me and called the police.
I ended up with a misdemeanor charge and a weekend in the county penthouse (jail). My family was embarrassed, and I was so ashamed when they bailed me out. After my court hearing, you would have thought that I had learned my lesson. But I didn’t. After a few weeks, I was back to drinking again.
I was at home in my room. I got so drunk that I passed out for almost eighteen hours. My dad had to wake me up so I could go to work. I was working the night shift at a convenient store. I was doing fine until I had a cigarette. After smoking, I could barely keep myself from passing out. As it turns out, the effects of the liquor had not worn off completely like I thought. This cycle cost me my job, hurt my parents, and left me feeling humiliated and ashamed. But one day, for no apparent reason accept that God had mercy on me and answered the prayers of my parents, I had stopped drinking ‘cold turkey’.
Suicide? Never crossed my mind.
Like I mentioned earlier, I was still dealing with the eating disorder and OCD. Even though I thought I looked normal, I didn’t. Most would have agreed that I was too thin. At my lowest, I weighed just 109 pounds. During a routine checkup, my doctor pointed out that my albumin levels were dangerously low. Basically, my body was starving and starting to eat its own muscle mass to survive. I was unknowingly, slowly killing myself.
Finally, and with my family doctor’s advice, I checked into an eating disorder facility for about six months. But the so-called success that I had did not last long after I got out. I was all performance based. Nothing lifechanging.
After I got out of the eating disorder facility, I was mentally unstable. The OCD, despite the medication I was on, flared up and sent me spiraling out of control. I went to the emergency room where they had me admitted into a psychiatric hospital on the south side of Montgomery. After about a week or two (I don’t remember how long, I was so messed up), they transferred me to Birmingham’s Grandview Medical Center where I received Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) treatments. I was there for about three weeks, receiving three treatments a week. After I got out. I was back to my ‘normal’ self again, even though I didn’t know what normal was like to be honest.
Then Jesus stepped in.
One Sunday (I think it was on the 3rd of March 2024), Jesus grabbed my attention with a vest, of all things. It was just a regular piece of clothing a family member gave me because it was too tight on them. I wore it to church once, but the next time I tried it on, I started crying right there in front of my dresser. That’s when it hit me—I really shouldn’t be able to fit into it, especially since nobody else in my family could.
I always called myself a Christian but if confronted and asked when I became one, I couldn’t tell you if my life depended on it. Which would make some wonder if I ever really was a Christian. But on March 10th of 2024, on a Sunday afternoon, I asked my parents to pray with me in their living room. There, I committed my life to Jesus. Thank God, He is a God of second chances!
What Now?
While reading my bible one day, Jesus led me to this verse in the book of Revelations. “Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works” — (Revelation 2:4-5 NKJV)
Different people may interpret that in different ways. But to me it meant getting baptized, showing my full surrender to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I can now declare that I’ve been set free from alcoholism, smoking, drug abuse, pornography and I have been set free from the eating disorder. AND THIS IS THROUGH JESUS ALONE! Not by my own strength!
Following Christs’ Example
As part of doing ‘the works you did at first’, as I mentioned before, I was baptized on April 21, 2024, following Christs’ example.
Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life. — (Romans 6:4 NKJV)
This is definitely Good News!
But let me make one thing clear. When I turn my life back over to Jesus, after asking Him to forgive me of all my sins, if I had died that same day, I know without a doubt that I would be in heaven with Jesus. Becoming Born Again is by Grace alone, like Paul wrote, “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast.” – (Ephesians 2:8 NKJV)
However, I know that Jesus did say “Anyone who believes and is baptized will be saved…” – (Mark 16:16 NLT) But read the full context of the verse.
I had decided to be baptized because I wanted to fallow Christ example and show my obedience to Him. The full verse, Jesus says; ‘Anyone who believes and is baptized will be saved. But anyone who refuses to believe will be condemned.‘ – (Mark 16:16 NLT)
Please be aware of what I’m trying to convey. If you were to die right after accepting Jesus as you Lord and Savior, or before you had a chance to be baptized, you’re saved, Born Again—Period! You WILL go to heaven!
This is AFTER I gave my life back to God. I believe being baptized is what He wanted me to do. Being baptized is an open confession of my faith in Christ. “For you were buried with Christ when you were baptized. And with Him you were raised to new life because you trusted the mighty power of God, who raised Christ from the dead. — (Colossians 2:12 NLT)
After I gave my life back to Jesus and let him have control, that didn’t fix my mental problem because it was an abnormality in my brain. My brain was sick.
A little about OCD…
With OCD, it affects several parts of the brain. And I have to deal with most of these issues at different times.
The part of the brain called the Orbitofrontal Cortex that normally helps with decision-making and risk evaluation, the neurotransmitters misfire causing that part of the brain to become hyperactive. It amplifies perceptions of threat and fuels intrusive thoughts. This has caused me major problems in the past, especially before starting medications.
The Anterior Cingulate Cortex part of the brain detects errors and regulates emotions. When the neurotransmitters misfire in that part of the brain it causes overactivity making the brain feel like something is “wrong” even when it isn’t, driving compulsive checking or correcting. Which I have had to deal with as well (and still do at times).
The Striatum, involved in habit formation and motor control, becomes overactive, reinforcing rigid, repetitive behaviors. I thank God that I haven’t had to deal with that so far. And by His grace I hope I never will.
The Thalamus part of the brain acts as a relay station for sensory and motor signals. When the neurotransmitters misfire there, abnormal activity disrupts filtering, allowing intrusive thoughts to persist.
The medication that I’m on – and I’m on plenty, does help me manage the symptoms. But it’s by the Grace of God and my Lord Jesus Christ that I am able to manage it. Without Him—I don’t even want to go there!
A Word on Miracles…
I have asked God to heal me of it. I’ve prayed and pleaded—begged and screamed, asking God to make it stop when things were out of control. But He has chosen to use Doctors and medications to help me manage it.
When I was dealing with this one day, a pastor friend told me that he was on an insulin pump because he was diabetic. He told me, “Do I believe God can heal me?” he answered his own question with a “Yes!” “But until then, or He takes me home, He gave us doctors with the wisdom and knowledge to know what to do.” It’s the something with my issue. My brain is sick. I deal with OCD, and anxiety disorder, but do I truly believe that God has the power to heal my mind completely? YES! But until then, I know, like with my friend, God also performs miracles though doctors and medicine as well. The day will come when I know for a fact that I am completely made whole. If not here, then I will be when I get home to be with Jesus.
I ask myself this question though; would I trust God more if He healed me completely, or do I trust Him more to help me through the battles I face because of my mental illness? At times I would like to think the first. But to be brutally honest, I think I trust Him much more as He walks with me through my difficulties with this than I would if He completely healed me. It’s a daily commitment. A total reliance on Him and Him alone.
I had to go to the hospital and go through the ECT treatments again. But God has been with me through all of it.
For the ones that think that a person should just ‘get over it’—being mentally ill, I have this to say. Be very careful that you don’t miss God. You may say, “but some that are labeled mentally ill may not be truly ill” —that’s true. It is the same with any other illness. People can play the system. But for those that are, like in my case, their mentally ill, don’t look down on them. My brain is sick. It’s a part of my body. You don’t tell a cancer patient to ‘get over it’ do you? You don’t tell a diabetic to get over it. Then why are you assuming that someone that is dealing with mental illness can just ‘get over it’? Pray for them that God will HEAL them. Pray that God’s grace will lead them.
The Unmeasurable Grace of God
There are countless other problems and situations that I found myself in throughout my life that I’m not proud of and I’ve not mentioned here. But, if it were not for Jesus, I would not be alive today; and I’m not exaggerating. Like John said in the bible, and I hold to this same proclamation; “And there are also many other things that Jesus did, which if they were written one by one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. Amen.” (John 21:25 NKJV)
Remembering Karen
Karen did remarry, in 2024, to a man that I prayed could give her what I was unable to. On their one-year anniversary, they went on a cruise to celebrate. Karen ate things that she wasn’t used to. She had herself on a strict diet. When they returned, she started to have major problems. After tests and an MRI, they found out that she had full blown pancreatic cancer. It had spread to her liver. The only thing they could do was to keep her comfortable. She passed away September of 2025.
The way I found out about it was that her husband sent a mass text message to all her contacts on her phone. When I got the text message, it read; ‘come celebrate Karen’s life’ – or something to that effect. I recognized the number. I was shocked. I called the number, and a woman answered the phone. It was her sister. It was then I found out about her passing. I was numb for a good couple of days. It’s true; when God meant that two would become one flesh, He meant it. I felt it – a part of me is gone now. Even after all these years. I miss her.
Taking Inventory
Life is short. Nothing is guaranteed. We live and we die. “And just as each person is destined to die once and after that comes judgment, so also Christ was offered once for all time as a sacrifice to take away the sins of many people. He will come again, not to deal with our sins, but to bring salvation to all who are eagerly waiting for Him.” – (Hebrews 9:27 & 28 NLT)
If you’re reading this, don’t ignore the voice calling you. You may have delt with things like I have. But then you may be dealing with a whole different set of issues. If you don’t know Christ Jesus as your personal Savior, where will you do? The Bible is very clear. “Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey? You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death, or you can choose to obey God, which leads to righteous living.” (Romans 6:16 NLT)
“All of us, like sheep, have strayed away. We have left God’s paths to follow our own. Yet the Lord laid on Him (Jesus) the sins of us all.” (Isaiah 53:6 NLT)
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