…sihT dniweR | Rewind This…

What is a “Rewind Post”? A ‘Rewind Post’ is a post that is meant to be read backwards. Not always right to left, sometimes the last line is the first line and the first line is the last line. In this case, the line I will start with is the sum of the entire post. Most people only want to know the ending anyway, so I figured I’d save you some time. In the world we live in, this is what it is asking for. For those of you who care to read in order, what happened, how it was handled, and what the conclusion is, you have to read from the last paragraph to the first. After all, isn’t it more fun to try new things? So here is the first of, I hope, many Rewind Posts.

~ words of a defeated saved soul ~

As an ex-murderer, suicidalist, psycho, and a depressed idiot, I encourage you to take a peek at the Bible, and get serious about your life and afterlife. Jesus is coming back soon! There is an urgency in the air (Isaiah)! Prophecies are being fulfilled (Revelations). Our tomorrows are running out! Can you seriously afford to listen to you other friends? Get a free ticket on the Jesus train before it’s too late and the trains pulls out without you. Because if you’re not getting any of this ‘Jesus’ stuff, soon, you won’t be getting anything, but death and fire (John 3:16-17).

So, yes, I’m flawed. Yes, I struggle. Yes, I’m weak. Yes, I sin. Yes, I covet. Yes, I hate. Yes, I lie. Yes, I fall. And yes, I call myself a Christian. But I believe in a perfect, almighty, strong, pure, giving, unconditionally loving, truthful, and omnipotent God, the Creator of the universe, Father of Jesus Christ, who was sent to, and did, save the world. The only man who came to die, and went from death to life, again. What else do you need to know to start believing?

Each time I look at my arm, I remember my actions and feel shame for how I thought and still, sometimes, think. But, instead of a mark of shame and humiliation, God has showed me that, I can only grow from where I’m at. And, I think, that is one of the best things to know, that there is hope for a brighter tomorrow, because God is with me.

Cutting yourself is bad. You think it takes away your inner pain, but what it really does is stunt your emotional growth. (Thanks Randy.) You think it helps you learn and deal with things, but what it really does is help you run away from the solution. You think that you have a right to do what you want to feel what you want, but what you’re really doing is destroying a growing, living, breathing, functioning, and learning creation of God. So just save yourself the bills of psychiatric treatment, and turn to God. It’s fast, easy, and the only way to do the right thing.

So, Bible, pen, and paper in my hand, I sat at a piano, of all places and waited. I waited for a long time and then, it came. Being a song writer, I usually have to spend a lot of time thinking, praying, meditating, and working to create anything worthwhile. This time, I sat down, prayed, waited,… and He gave it to me. God gave me a song and each time I sing it, I remember His words to me. And I was in bliss.

Feeling like a fool, I rushed to the sink to wash away my cuts and the trickles of blood. And when I looked at my arm, for the first time, I saw what it was. Four small slashes on my arm, red from the cuts, but none as deep as my past cuts. God had stopped me in time. And then, through my friend, He said, “Spend some time with me, and I’ll give you something special.”

And I stopped.

And I wish I could proudly say I’ve stuck strong since my last cut, but I regret to inform you that, I gave into severe depression again, and this time, without the goading of anyone, without the help of anything, I automatically picked up a blade and began creating small slashes on my arms. It seemed so natural, the slow strokes, the slow deepening of each line, the small redness, and the sharp pain… and then I heard the familiar pang, only, it wasn’t a pang, it was more like a cry. God was crying out to me, “Stop! Don’t! I created you! Why are you trying to destroy my creation?! I love you! Stop hurting yourself! YOU’RE ALSO HURTING ME!“

I thought my life had taken a turn for the better, for though I still struggled with living day to day without my other friends and focusing on God’s Word, I was still constantly haunted in my dreams by faces and friends I had created with my mind. At times, I couldn’t sleep because I feared them, but God gave me strength and I put all of my trust in Him.

My “recovery time” took place in college, when I practiced being happy, smiling, and thinking positively. With Joe and Ruth, Angie and Kat, and an apartment filled with girls, my life became less and less lonely. Sometimes, when someone died, I would become sad, but I never hit the bottom. Brothers and sisters from Church kept me accountable, thus keeping my other friends at bay.  During this time, O.n.E. developed and, though excused as “mood swings” the devil tempted me with old habits, putting me in difficult situations, and hurting those around me, almost daily.  But, by the grace of God, everything pulled through and life continued.  (I apologize for hurting anyone I have hurt during these years.  SORRY!  But if it’s any consolation, you helped me grow a lot.  And I thank God for you!)

My mother finally took note of my emotional outbursts and long periods of just sitting somewhere (I was at the point where, in my mind, my other friends and I were elsewhere, thus my body didn’t have to move, for I was moving… with them… in my mind…), and asked my GLC (Counselor) for me to spend some time with the school psychiatrist. And she tried, believe me, she tried. In the end, it was fruitless. And she stopped trying. And then Johnny, a church brother, one day, sat down next to me at Church. Smiling at me, he asked how I was doing. And in that moment, God “bitch”-slapped me. In that small question, God stepped in and took over. Three weeks later, I stopped cutting myself, and a week after that, I became less suicidal, curving above depressed, and, though not at happiness, but more to carelessness. Most importantly, my other friends were abandoning me. And as time continued, I had less and less time for them. Eventually, I lived through weeks without them. And I was okay.

Senior year of high school, three friends died in three consecutive weeks. THAT broke me. Numb to the world, life didn’t matter, death was welcome, and I was passed depressed and had approached suicidal. I was numb… and they were there for me. In the darkness of my life, I shut God out and abandoned my promises. Instead, I let darkness enfold me in its wings and my other friends comfort me. For the first 3 months, no one knew anything different. When I behaved depressed, they said, “But she’s always depressed.” When I tried to call out for help, they said, “She just wants attention.” When I tried to tell someone of my other friends, they laughed at me, calling me a baby or, worse, a liar. But I was telling the truth the way I saw it. And though I tried to ask for help, no one knew and no one cared, except for them.

I lied.

The day of my 16th birthday, another dear friend died in a car accident. My heart, in turmoil, and my mind, unfocused, allowed my body to repeat the actions taught to me by my other friends. And again, two months after, I repeated the act as I mourned the loss of another friend. I swore to myself to stop, especially after I heard about how bad it was to “cut” yourself, and I promised God, with all my heart and strength, I would never do it again. Instead, for a year, I prayed to God with all I had, I got into a lifestyle where cutting wasn’t even an option, and I refused to hang out with my other friends completely. And I promised to keep my mind straight and follow Jesus, regardless of how many Sundays I would have to cry.

But it didn’t stop there.

I hid myself in my bedroom, unable to think clearly. And that’s when my other friends began to whisper with me in the darkness of my room. “It’s just a cut,” they said. “It will take away the inside pain. Trust us,” they whispered. And holding my hand, they taught me the art of cutting my arms just enough to make it look like accidents. And later, when they became red welts, the pain was enough to distract me from the fragile state of my heart and mind. And so I was able to pass that time.

Matt had weak lungs, and was diagnosed with Leukemia at an early stage. He had tried to fight it, but his body wasn’t strong enough. He passed away when I was 13 and that’s when true depression sunk its claws into my life.

The first year passed, and nothing went wrong. The second year passed, with only a few difficult incidents. But during the third year, I met someone who I grew quite fond of. “Puppy-love” some call it, but I became friends with Scott through Matt and his group of friends. At school, I hung out with them, my other friends unable to reach me. After school, my other friends complained about my loyalty as their friend. I could only answer weakly, making promises I would end up breaking the very next day. And so it continued, my real friends and imaginary friends being and co-existing with me in the middle of it all. Until that day.

It was perfect.

I never tried to make them stand out or anything. I kept them in my mind, where they belonged. Even as I made friends, I kept my imaginary friends in my mind, where they belonged. But, as my nights grew long, my afternoons lonely, and my summers boring, I let them out more and more during the day. And one day, when I woke up, they were there. No different from reality, no more real than what I knew, and always happy to see me. When my family was around, they were always elsewhere, but when I was alone, no, I was never alone. They talked to me while I did my homework, they walked with me around school during recess (because they were in a different class), they laughed at my jokes and played with me after school, and they wanted to be with me forever.

It all started when I was 7 years old. I moved from Texas to California. It was involuntary on my part, for I loved the days of pretending to play house with my best friend, Crystal, and being assigned as the wife of Roger, the only other Asian kid in my class, no, in my grade, so it seemed. Life was good, easy, and continually friendly. And then we moved to California. What a change that was. — All the old securities and friends… gone. All the past smiling faces and safety activities… behind us. All the world seemed to pass and I felt unable to keep up. My sisters were making friends… but I wasn’t. I longed for Texas, but Texas turned away as did California. So I did the only thing someone of my age, at the time, could to do be “happy”. I made up imaginary friends.

For me, personally, I’ve either suffered, battled, or given into depression constantly. Life was, for me, a dull picture with soft focus, no sharpness, and a terrible cycle that rewound itself at the end of each day. There was no such thing as new, cool, exciting, or different, just angles at which people saw from that implied or hoped to reveal such things. Life was pointless. And I accepted it without asking questions.

Start here and go UP (to make any sense of this post)!