My Helper

You know the thing that helps me the most in my dark hours of my mental illness? My Jesus. When I was a teenager I had a thing for Jewish guys. I remember the first hot Jewish guy, he was my actual first crush. Pauly Shore! I can remember coloring Easter Eggs at my Grandma’s house in the kitchen and she had a T.V. in her kitchen. Now a little aside, when I got to be about thirteen, around the time of this Pauly Shore revolution, I hated Easter. I would color Easter Eggs on Good Friday all by myself so that on Easter I could eat Easter Eggs all by myself. Now back to my story. There was hot Pauly Shore in Speedos on “Totally Pauly” talking about being Jewish. Well, the perfect Jewish man, that I could actually date, didn’t come until about ten years later. I learned something. A Jewish guy wouldn’t want his kids to know my BESTEST FRIEND, my Redeemer, my Lord Jesus. I mean if I just married a Jewish guy and it was just us, it would fine. He could practice what he wanted and I could practice what I wanted, but I always wanted kids in the equation.

Well, how about this Jesus? How about Yeshua? My Jewish man come to do his Father’s will. Well, way back in 1999. Before I felt suicidal, I did know there was something wrong with me. I had to fix it. I hadn’t been going to church my whole time at college. Well, maybe sometimes, but I would go hung over and half asleep. So I went to Reconciliation. And after what I told the priest and how he forgave me through Jesus, I cried. I walked out the confessional and cried some more in front of the Blessed Sacrament. There were no other people for Reconciliation so the priest came and asked me if I needed to talk. I was embarrassed and said no. I got up and left the church and cried all the way back to my dorm. Then came when it got really bad and I was going to end it all. I felt like I could trust no one. I saw a middle aged black man coming down my dorm hall. It was really weird because I went to a college in Southern Indiana where there isn’t very many African – Americans. And he told me that I could trust my father. I knew at that moment I needed to talk to my Dad, but after I went my dorm room I pushed the thought aside. Later that night, I got in my car and was ready to start it up and find a wall and crash my car! Then I got a feeling that wasn’t my own. I had heard others talked about this phenomenon before. My mother always described, when she was taking communion to the hospital, that when many people did not wish to receive that she would walk the halls and feel a great sadness that wasn’t her own. Well, I felt this feeling and it felt like strong warning not to go through with killing myself. Later I was court ordered to a mental health unit and I remembered what my Guardian Angel (for I believe that was what the middle aged black man was) had said to trust my Dad. I put him as my emgerency contact and he was there for me during my stay. For example I tried to escape three times from the mental health unit. Which was really just me going on the elevator that needed key to go anywhere so all it really did was close and open doors, the nurses witnessing this called my Dad. He talked to me and helped me. He still helps me when I get panic attacks.

Now you all know I was in the hospital about two weeks ago. Well you know what my Yeshua did? He sent all three priests from my parish to visit me. One every other day! On Thursday the twelfth he sent Fr. Michael. Father Michael asked me if I ever received the sacrament of the sick. In the old days before Vatican Two it was called Last Rights. Fr. Michael said I have a serious illness and it could help me so I agreed. He forgave all my sins, anointed me, and laid hands on me. I didn’t have any racing thoughts after that. And after he was all done, I asked Father Michael if I could have a hug. Now I have hugged lots of priests, but I am always embarrassed with Fr. Michael because he is young and cute. Anyway, he hugged me and I mean he REALLY hugged me. I felt it was my Jesus saying that everything would be o.k. I thought about that hug all day and when I was saying my prayers before bed, which by the way I could say better because there were no racing thoughts, and just felt Jesus' love

Now those are two examples of how my bridegroom, Yeshua has been there for me. He is always there. I love him. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t plan to become a bride of Christ (a nun). However, Yeshua will always come first.