Our society is so caught up in winning, we forget that most of the great men and women in history have, at one time or another, failed at something. Often repeatedly, and discouragingly. But each failure is nothing more than a brick in the wall that forms the foundation of our success. We can’t forget that. —Carlton Young
“Talking! In this modern age of ‘communication’ it can still be really hard to have a conversation about how we’re feeling and coping.”
In this world of putting your game-face on and covering how you’re really feeling, this was a pertinent comment. There is a lot noise, froth & banter and it can be hard to have a real conversation.
My son Chris left the church in 2011 and embarked on a life of crime, living on the streets and drugtaking. I felt very sad and helpless but tried to stay in contact and support him as much as I could because I was the only door back to God, a good life and eventually eternal life for my son. Later that year he became suicidal and tried to take his life a few times. This lead to hospitalisation and a three week stay in an Adolescent Psychiatric facility where he was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.
I finally persuaded him to return home and I became his carer. It was a difficult time, because a person with mental illness is constantly irrational and takes all their moods out on their carer. Also I gave up my life to look after my son’s life – no work or outside interests. It’s hard for people to fully appreciate how much of a toll, caring for a mentally unwell person takes on a carer’s physical, emotional and mental health.
Unfortunately, the day after we returned home, he was attacked by a gang of boys. My son was left by the side of the road unconcious, suffering facial fractures with bleeding on the brain. I drove him to the hospital and prayed all the way in tongues. My son was flown to the Royal Perth Hospital. Everyone prayed for him and he was out in a few days and recovered well. However, I was traumatised by this event and by previous experiences.
I didn’t know it but my son’s lifestyle had taken a toll on me and the attack was my breaking point. My mind constantly flashed vivid images of my son looking lifeless and covered in his own blood. I suffered from insomonia, and when I did fall asleep, I experienced recurring nightmares where I would wake up screaming. During the day I was on edge and fearful and plagued with constant headaches. When I heard unexpected noises, I felt startled and sick to the point where babies crying in supermarkets would give me mild panic attacks. I also couldn’t concentrate and kept myself hyper busy so I didn’t have to deal with the turmoil and trauma. Basically, I wasn’t coping and I was slowly unravelling. I didn’t know it at the time but I was experiencing Post Traumatic Stress disorder. My family didn’t know how to cope with that so they left me alone. They didn’t understand what I was going through and avoided the situation. I was so fragile that I didn’t know how to ask for help or explain how I was feeling. It was just me and the Lord.
An expert informed me I was suffering from PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I had been praying about my deteriorating emotional state for weeks but I was becoming worse. One day I recognised one of the boys who had bashed my son. He was skateboarding and I started running after him. The whole time I was pursuing him I was cognitive of the ridiculous thing that I was doing – “Why am I chasing him ? Stop it. What am I going to do if I catch him? ect” I know the Lord wants me to forgive them all and here I am full of anger chasing one of the boys! I stopped running after him and he ducked down an alley way. I think he recognised me too and I felt like a pretty crummy testimony. I knew then that I needed help and I couldn’t continue this way. Reluctantly, I went to the doctors and he gave me medication.
On the first night, after taking a three daily dose of the medication, I broke out in all the dangerous ‘contact emergency’ symptoms. Instead of going to the hospital, I called my friends from the Revivial Fellowship Church as they were all in one place: Beverely Camp. I asked them all to pray for me. As I sat down from the phone call, all the symptoms immediately left me. They had prayed for me and I was healed instantly from all the disturbing symptoms.
The next day I went to a Sunday Revival Fellowship Church meeting and I went up to the prayer line. I asked God to heal me from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I was instantly healed after suffering from it for six weeks. As I sat down I felt relaxed, relieved and myself again. I haven’t experienced a symptom or PTSD since God healed me.
I’d like to thank God that he is real and actually does things in our lives after we pray about them, even if we have to wait for them.