G.A.D General Anxiety Disorder… Healed

 

General Anxiety Disorder is abnormal and excessive anxiety that impedes the sufferer from carrying out normal daily tasks and enjoying life. It is perfectly normal to become anxious around stressful events, but GAD is an intense and overwhelming fear, or dread, intrusive thoughts and anxiety – which afflicts sufferers, as soon as they wake up until they go to sleep, with no reason or triggers. I struggled with GAD from 2010 to 2014.

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I developed this condition after a long and painful trial, and from the demands of caring for a mentally unwell child. I was constantly keyed up and on edge. I was unable to relax, my mind was either racing or going blank – so I was unable to process information normally and often looked like an idiot because I just missed things. I really didn’t need help in this department, as I can look like an idiot all by myself. I was fatigued, irritable, sensitive, experienced muscle tension, digestive problems and constant headaches that interfered with my sleep. Anxiety changed me into a fragile and reactive person who couldn’t cope, which impacted on my relationship with my family. It was exhausting and futile trying to make my family and friends appreciate and understand my condition. I would receive a lot of – just get it together ect, but there was something broken in my brain and I couldn’t fix it. It was ironic and humbling for me because I once had the same attitude towards anxiety sufferers! My anxiety was starting to take over my life: I found it increasingly difficult to cope with social events and just getting to meetings required a monumental effort.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but tried to put on a happy and brave face, but cracks would inevitably appear. I was diagnosed with GAD: General Anxiety Disorder and it was a relief to know I was suffering from something and it wasn’t me. It progressively became worse, as I refused medication and treatment.

I went to Leadership Camp in 2014 and struggled through it owing to the anxiety, however I was adept at going through the motions and masking my problem, but on the inside I was troubled and scared.

I knew that only the Lord could heal me… but I wasn’t getting the victory, but things were about to change. At Leadership Camp, I heard Andrea Nankiville’s testimony of being healed from a intestinal fluke which ruined her life, but she said something interesting – she said that she knew she was healed by God, even though she still suffered with symptoms. To me that is not logical. If you are exhibiting signs and symptoms then it is directly indicative of a condition… but she maintained her faith and went to the doctor for confirmation. He took tests and gave her the all clear. From that point on she slowly recovered from the damage to her body. This was a great testimony, but it didn’t mean that much to me initially. That meeting, I had purposed to go to the prayer line to ask God for a healing from GAD because I was desperate. Owing to my anxiety, I had stopped going to the prayer line because it made me feel self conscious and anxious.

As I had hands laid on me, I experienced an overwhelming sensation to cry, because I knew the Lord heard my request and that I had been healed. I returned to me seat still fighting the effects of anxiety. I held onto Andrea’s testimony and realised that our God is not logical but faithful, so I held onto the fact that I was healed despite how I felt.

An outreach had been arranged in the afternoon and I knew that would be the confirmation of my healing. Since developing GAD I stopped enjoying outreaches and was too fragile to witness. However, I love serving the Lord and would turn up to witnessing events, just to support it. It was humbling and little bit humiliating, as I used to be a confident witnesser. I would stand mute, next to someone as they gave out pamphlets and witnessed. This went on for a few years.

So, I went to the outreach at Victor Harbour and before I knew it I had a stack of pamphlets in my hands. I wanderd off, on my own and the Lord gave me several very exciting witnesses in a row. I was completely healed and my symptoms soon disappeared. Like Andrea, it took a little while for my body to recover but now I feel like a normal person, who enjoys life and social events and can join in on outreaches. I really thank the Lord for this healing and the humbling process that I needed to go through.

Do the Right Thing…

I’m reading Exodus and I liked this little scripture: 23:4 If thou meet thine enemies ox or his ass going astray, thou shalt surely bring it back again.

Awesome. I love how the Lord wants us to do the right thing in all circumstances. So Righteous. Must curb inclination to boot beast and go home – note to self: do the right thing = please the Lord.

do the right thing

Healing on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

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.

In The Newspaper Again

Honestly, this is the third time I have got my fat head in our local paper.

 

Every time it happens, I go on and on about it. I’m absolutely intolerable.

 

I insist someone fetch my latte which extra foam, roll out the red carpet where ever I go and … boy even I’m sick of me.

 

Lifestyles of small time celebs!

 

P.S I’m not the cute blonde in the front, I’m the brunette behind, doing my retail thing… I hate retail.

!!!!!!FAT HEAD

What’s the Deal with Teenage Boys

 

So I have 6 kids, but they are all grown up

and I thank God for that.

I am still scarred from the teen years. I meet young mums down the street, have a chat and a little look at their babies in the prams: “Oh they are so cute! Such a cute little person.” Then I have to bite my tongue because I want to say: “Enjoy them now because all hell is going to break loose when they hit 15 . You can kiss that cute little person goodbye and say hello to the emo, jacked up demon that’ll possess your child during adolescence… have a nice day.”

 

Chris_Dakota_03_by_EmoPunkNet

When my three boys became three teenage boys I didn’t know what hit me. Where did these creatures spawn from and can I take them back & get a refund?

When they were younger and having difficulty with something, I’d say: “Mummy do, Mummy do that for you? ” It was met with an instantaneous, joyous response, matched with palpable adoration in their eyes: “Thank you Mummy! You are the best Mum in the whole wide world!”

“Damn straight, little pooky-bear.”

Now, if they’re having a problem and I offer help – “Mummy do?” I get a lip curl and a snarl just like a mad dog before it mauls a person to death. 

Also you can’t ask them to do anything.

For example: I walk down to the bedroom: “Hey teen number 1” – if I forget their names I call them in the order they were hatched, I mean born. “Teen number 1 can you…”

“Nup, I’m busy.”

“I can see that. You’re laying on your bed, in front of your gamer laptop and your right hand is texting multiple people… Yes, you are positively flat out. I should be helping you.”

“Cheers Mum, can you pick up my washing and fix my bed.”

I have noted your sarcasm and ignored it. So I cross my arms giving him the non-verbal signal of ‘I’m not leaving’.

“Now is not a good time. I’m in the middle of a raid and I’m levelling up.”

“I’m in the middle of real life and my energy is running out.”

This leads to an argument.

“All I’m asking is to take the rubbish out.”

This received a grunt, which I understood as an affirmative in teen boy speak.

But 3 days later the rubbish is still there… putrefying, smelling and oozing something brown.

So I go down to his bedroom again: “Hey, is it too much to ask to take the rubbish out?”

Then I wait for the non-responses and repeat.  You will not kill the desire to communicate with you… or my will to live.

Finally he answers me, “Is it still there?”

“Yes.”

“Looks like you’ve answered your own question.”

“What?”

“The question you posed: Is it too much to ask… looks like it is.”

I ignore his sarcastic work avoidance response and glare at him.

“Mum, your request was ambiguous and open to interpretation. I didn’t understand it, so I didn’t do it.”

“What? Take out the rubbish! What is so hard to understand?”

“Take out the rubbish… what and where was not specified. You need to be specific mum.”

Then we become locked in a battle of wills, which leads to  a massive argument. Hello DEFCON 1. 

This went on for years. Argument after argument over petty things.  We got to the point where I thought he hated me. So I said, Do you hate me?

Get a load of this response:

“Mum… *sigh* *looks really uncomfortable* *screws up face*…  I don’t hate you. I really don’t like saying this, but… I do love you. Errrgh *shudders*. You tell anyone I said that and I’ll fully deny it; then I’ll pound you. Now don’t take this personally, I just don’t want you in my life right now. I definitely don’t want you telling me to do things, especially guide or correct me. Please! I can’t emphasise this enough – if you continue to do this, I will rebel and do the opposite just to make a point to you, so for your sanity and our relationship, get out of my face for a few years. Also, lower your expectations on me helping around the house because it’s not going to happen. Mum, I am having major teen issues, so you can’t expect much from me until I sort them out and it doesn’t look good until mid twenties.”

“And another point, don’t greet me as soon as I walk in the door from high school. It really annoys the hell outta me. Teenage boys do not need that after a hard day at high school, being a guy and all that. Just let me wander off into my room where I can hibernate for several hours. After, I may come out and be ready to verbalise something in the form of annoyed grunt, most likely a demand for food but not real food – the fake kind. So, stock up on corn chips, cheese and microwavable foods. I’m not six! I do not want apples or carrot sticks.”

“Another little pointer, if you try to hug me in public again…I will smash you.”

I thanked him for his directness & honesty.

Then we looked at each other and for the first time in a long time we really understood each other. It was a beautiful moment. I felt like I reconnected with my son.

I took all of what he said, processed it and said:

“Yeah… I’m doing none of that. Newsflash, Castro, carrot sticks and apples are not age specific and I will hug your whenever I want. Also, if you try to smash me, I will pin you down and have you begging for your life in 5 seconds. Now take the rubbish out before I disconnect the internet for a week.”

I didn’t say that… boy, do I wish I did. I took the rubbish out & stayed out of his personal space for three years. It worked. We’re all good now. Sometimes taking the spineless, doormat option really works.

 

 

Calling Literary Agents

I’ve completed my third book Funny Australian Letterboxes Edition Two – another amusing collection of unusual Aussie letterboxes with comic captions. I’d rather not self-publish this time. Amazon is great but they let themselves down by inaccurate accounting of sales and  not delivering royalties. I hope to secure an Australian Publisher…

But are they interested in novelty humour books?

Today I called twenty Australian literary agents regardless if they requested to be contacted by email first. I have waited three weeks for a response from Literary agents just for an initial query email and I’d like my rejections – responses today.
I pitched my Funny Aussie Letterboxes 2 and it’s not good news people. Eighteen Literary agents were unable to help me, bemoaning the publishing landscape. Publishing houses are in a difficult situation battling with ebooks and are not interested in novelty books – especially photographic books as they are expensive to produce. Two literary agents would like to see my book… but didn’t feel very enthusiastic about it, so I spent the next five hours, I kid you not, breaking my book into four parts and compressing the files to send electronically. Cyber snails were employed by gmail to deliver emails today. I was doing a lot of Grrrs and what now! and oh for-goodness-sakes as I had to resend the emails several times.

Seven Glorious frustrating hours later I sent off my first two submissions.

I emailed ten other literary agents that I couldn’t get hold of their phone numbers and I have already received two rejections – Best Rejections Ever!
Janet Reid sent me a most encouraging rejection:
Dear MJ

Thanks for sending me your query and pages for FUNNY AUSTRALIAN LETTERBOXES.
I regret this one isn’t for me, but I encourage you to query widely. Not being
a fit for my list has nothing to do with the caliber of your work. Think of this
as redirection to more suitable agents, not rejection.

J

Thanks J, and another goody ~
Hello MJ Cope,

I admire your chutzpah.

No, we are not taking on new work, too busy trying to sell the books we have already.

Good luck with Letterboxes 1.

Cheers,

Julia Beaven
Submissions Editor

I have chutzpah… It’s hard to become upset over rejection letter when they are worded so positively.
I’ll continue working through Literary Agents in Australia. England and America and hopefully one… one will be interested – if not, I’m off to score my dream job as a fry cook, flipping burgers at my local hamburger joint.