Wolfesque Perseverance
PostPosted: Fri May 07, 2010 7:15 pm
Disclaimer: There is mature content in the following testimony. It is not suitable for younger members, and I would advise only the older and more mature members read it.
Of Muddy Paws on the Concrete Road
Where does one begin their testimony? I ponder this every time I give my testimony, whether it be in the private confinement of a dorm room, or given in front of many people as a speech. I have done both, and yet still have trouble maintaining how I go about testifying to what God has done in my life. The first place to start, in that situation, would then be birth. I was born; what more is there to it? All too much, such as my being premature, and having right hemiplegic Cerebral Palsy.
There’s not much to my childhood years. I remember my parents’ decision to allow me to find religion, but only if I wanted it. It was that I could decide for myself what was right for me. I wanted nothing to do with any of it, hating church as I grew up. I also recall my parents’ separation, divorce, and eventual remarrying on both sides. That was a time where I suddenly went from being the only child, to becoming the exact middle. (Having one younger brother, one younger sister, one older brother, and one older sister) In the same sense, however, I was still kind of the only one, because in a household at my mom’s, it was almost always just the three of us.
It was in those years that I had moved from one side of the state of Michigan to the other, and where I met my first true best friend, “Kitsune.” We have been friends since our fourth grade teacher paired us up, going into our tenth year.
That’s just about the typical childhood of any person, these days.
In the summer when I was eleven was when things for me let loose. Being curious, I began searching the internet about sex. I stumbled upon pornography for the first time that day, and from that moment on, became addicted. I would turn to it in continuous curiosity, want, and eventual “need.” As I grew older, I found that masturbating to the images and videos was a release. From life, from stress, from whatever I needed at the time. Pleasure was my master.
At fourteen, I attended my first Christ in Youth conference. For me, going to it was just to be with my older brother, since we were new to the church and I didn’t know anyone. I was reluctant to even go at first, not really liking church, after all. But I reluctantly went, and actually had a good time. I felt the Spirit’s calling to me for the first time during that week. The next weekend back home, at my dad’s, I was baptized. 7/31/05. I got baptized with one of my new church friends, my brother, and a few others. Looking back, I don’t think I really knew what I was doing when I committed myself to Jesus.
This began my life within the church. At the same time, I led a double life. I continued in the life of pornography until two years later. It was at another CIY conference that I was convicted. It was here, also, that I confessed said addiction to my youth group. Upon my confession, several others came out, too. I was not alone. I went through a series of personal tests, like staying off the internet and not masturbating, for the rest of the summer.
As school approached for my junior year, I became fearful, doubtful of God. As I entered school, I quickly became depressed, longing for my old addiction to manifest itself in my life yet again. It was the known and comfortable. Without it, I felt trapped. I continued to stay away, but my life fell apart. Everything changed on September 30, 2007. I remember the day at church clearly. In youth group we talked about David and Goliath. I asked for prayer with my oncoming depression. In the church service, we talked about salvation. I cried a lot in church that day. When we got home, we ate lunch and then after, I went for a walk out in our woods.
That walk is where everything fell apart. I cried out to God, but couldn’t hear His voice. I wasn’t listening anymore. The fact was that everything seemed to be falling apart in my life. I no longer had the control, nor the pleasure I desired. Sitting atop a hill, something gleamed from the corner of my eye. It was a piece of glass. And with that piece of glass, I scratched my wrist.
The next day I returned to school, pushed away my friends, cussed them out, and fell deeper into despair. That night, I wrote a suicide note of sorts, that I was falling apart, and sent it into the Christian Anime Alliance Prayer Room. It was here that my best friend Kiku saw it, reported it to Kitsune, and the two of them combated me among others, in the thread. I read back on the thread recently, and I realize now that even that time wasn’t my darkest of nights. The thread was a huge debate and argument festival, and it is to my regret that it ever became as such.
I said I was okay, but knowing, I never truly was. I was putting on a front for everyone, pretending it was all alright. Things would only get worse from there. I told my mom about the cuts a week later, too ashamed to face myself. I went into Christian counseling, was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, and put onto medication.
I had Myspace messaged to the organization, XXXChurch, about being weak in my commitment to stay away from pornography, and how I had cut myself. To this they told me to stay strong, and pointed me to HeartSupport for my self-injury. Spiteful of my counselor, I made everything worse. My self-mutilation went from scratches to bloody cuts. I began to masturbate again around this time in October. It was not, at first, what I once enjoyed, but a pain-filled, nauseating experience. One day I showed a friend my carefully bandaged arm, and she directed me to the organization, To Write Love on Her Arms. I read the story of Renee Yohe, soaking it up. I took to heart the meaning of love, and that of hope. However, in my next moments of despair I found myself with a mechanical pencil, carving “LOVE” into my right wrist. It was my first major suicide attempt, and the only one I have full memory of.
It was at the same time that my great grandfather passed away. It seems now that I cannot think of one event without the other, they were so intertwined. It has been said that I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder due to these intermingled events. To this day I can look at my wrist and see the O, V, E of what used to be there. It reminds me of where I’ve been, and how God has brought me through. Overcome.
It was in March that I looked at pornography yet again, and in doing so, permanently crashed my computer. I think of it now as God’s way of saying “No more!”
The injuries never got any worse than those. But they didn’t stop until that next May. It was here that I was discharged from counseling, after showing much improvement. The next month we went, yet again, to the Christ in Youth conference. For the first time, both of my youth groups found themselves together at a conference. Founder of XXXChurch and co-founder of HeartSupport, Craig Gross was there to speak at one of the days. He gave us time to write our stories on a notecard, collected them, re-passed out the cards, allowing for others to read theirs, if they wanted, to the crowd. I prayed the entire time that mine was not read, and it was granted.
Next, he went through each of the individual categories that HeartSupport deals with, and for each one, asked the people struggling with said issue to stand. Then he would pray over the standing ones in the crowd. Having told my youth group about my struggles the night before, I went to stand when he called out for the self-mutilators to stand. Instead, I fell back to my seat, sobbing. In my place, my youth group rose, stood over me, and prayed.
It was within this same week that I received my calling into ministry. It was a time of night where we were called into repentance, Greg Frazee singing David Crowder Band’s “Remedy” over us. We were front row for the first time that night, and with the call to repentance I stepped up, knelt down, and prayed. I sobbed, begging God to forgive all that I had done. That’s when all went silent and I heard His voice. He said something like, “Go and heal the broken, the eating disordered, suicidal, self-mutilators, and addicted.” It was a gentle command. I told my youth group that night, and was yet again prayed over.
Of Muddy Paws on the Concrete Road
Where does one begin their testimony? I ponder this every time I give my testimony, whether it be in the private confinement of a dorm room, or given in front of many people as a speech. I have done both, and yet still have trouble maintaining how I go about testifying to what God has done in my life. The first place to start, in that situation, would then be birth. I was born; what more is there to it? All too much, such as my being premature, and having right hemiplegic Cerebral Palsy.
There’s not much to my childhood years. I remember my parents’ decision to allow me to find religion, but only if I wanted it. It was that I could decide for myself what was right for me. I wanted nothing to do with any of it, hating church as I grew up. I also recall my parents’ separation, divorce, and eventual remarrying on both sides. That was a time where I suddenly went from being the only child, to becoming the exact middle. (Having one younger brother, one younger sister, one older brother, and one older sister) In the same sense, however, I was still kind of the only one, because in a household at my mom’s, it was almost always just the three of us.
It was in those years that I had moved from one side of the state of Michigan to the other, and where I met my first true best friend, “Kitsune.” We have been friends since our fourth grade teacher paired us up, going into our tenth year.
That’s just about the typical childhood of any person, these days.
In the summer when I was eleven was when things for me let loose. Being curious, I began searching the internet about sex. I stumbled upon pornography for the first time that day, and from that moment on, became addicted. I would turn to it in continuous curiosity, want, and eventual “need.” As I grew older, I found that masturbating to the images and videos was a release. From life, from stress, from whatever I needed at the time. Pleasure was my master.
At fourteen, I attended my first Christ in Youth conference. For me, going to it was just to be with my older brother, since we were new to the church and I didn’t know anyone. I was reluctant to even go at first, not really liking church, after all. But I reluctantly went, and actually had a good time. I felt the Spirit’s calling to me for the first time during that week. The next weekend back home, at my dad’s, I was baptized. 7/31/05. I got baptized with one of my new church friends, my brother, and a few others. Looking back, I don’t think I really knew what I was doing when I committed myself to Jesus.
This began my life within the church. At the same time, I led a double life. I continued in the life of pornography until two years later. It was at another CIY conference that I was convicted. It was here, also, that I confessed said addiction to my youth group. Upon my confession, several others came out, too. I was not alone. I went through a series of personal tests, like staying off the internet and not masturbating, for the rest of the summer.
As school approached for my junior year, I became fearful, doubtful of God. As I entered school, I quickly became depressed, longing for my old addiction to manifest itself in my life yet again. It was the known and comfortable. Without it, I felt trapped. I continued to stay away, but my life fell apart. Everything changed on September 30, 2007. I remember the day at church clearly. In youth group we talked about David and Goliath. I asked for prayer with my oncoming depression. In the church service, we talked about salvation. I cried a lot in church that day. When we got home, we ate lunch and then after, I went for a walk out in our woods.
That walk is where everything fell apart. I cried out to God, but couldn’t hear His voice. I wasn’t listening anymore. The fact was that everything seemed to be falling apart in my life. I no longer had the control, nor the pleasure I desired. Sitting atop a hill, something gleamed from the corner of my eye. It was a piece of glass. And with that piece of glass, I scratched my wrist.
The next day I returned to school, pushed away my friends, cussed them out, and fell deeper into despair. That night, I wrote a suicide note of sorts, that I was falling apart, and sent it into the Christian Anime Alliance Prayer Room. It was here that my best friend Kiku saw it, reported it to Kitsune, and the two of them combated me among others, in the thread. I read back on the thread recently, and I realize now that even that time wasn’t my darkest of nights. The thread was a huge debate and argument festival, and it is to my regret that it ever became as such.
I said I was okay, but knowing, I never truly was. I was putting on a front for everyone, pretending it was all alright. Things would only get worse from there. I told my mom about the cuts a week later, too ashamed to face myself. I went into Christian counseling, was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, and put onto medication.
I had Myspace messaged to the organization, XXXChurch, about being weak in my commitment to stay away from pornography, and how I had cut myself. To this they told me to stay strong, and pointed me to HeartSupport for my self-injury. Spiteful of my counselor, I made everything worse. My self-mutilation went from scratches to bloody cuts. I began to masturbate again around this time in October. It was not, at first, what I once enjoyed, but a pain-filled, nauseating experience. One day I showed a friend my carefully bandaged arm, and she directed me to the organization, To Write Love on Her Arms. I read the story of Renee Yohe, soaking it up. I took to heart the meaning of love, and that of hope. However, in my next moments of despair I found myself with a mechanical pencil, carving “LOVE” into my right wrist. It was my first major suicide attempt, and the only one I have full memory of.
It was at the same time that my great grandfather passed away. It seems now that I cannot think of one event without the other, they were so intertwined. It has been said that I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder due to these intermingled events. To this day I can look at my wrist and see the O, V, E of what used to be there. It reminds me of where I’ve been, and how God has brought me through. Overcome.
It was in March that I looked at pornography yet again, and in doing so, permanently crashed my computer. I think of it now as God’s way of saying “No more!”
The injuries never got any worse than those. But they didn’t stop until that next May. It was here that I was discharged from counseling, after showing much improvement. The next month we went, yet again, to the Christ in Youth conference. For the first time, both of my youth groups found themselves together at a conference. Founder of XXXChurch and co-founder of HeartSupport, Craig Gross was there to speak at one of the days. He gave us time to write our stories on a notecard, collected them, re-passed out the cards, allowing for others to read theirs, if they wanted, to the crowd. I prayed the entire time that mine was not read, and it was granted.
Next, he went through each of the individual categories that HeartSupport deals with, and for each one, asked the people struggling with said issue to stand. Then he would pray over the standing ones in the crowd. Having told my youth group about my struggles the night before, I went to stand when he called out for the self-mutilators to stand. Instead, I fell back to my seat, sobbing. In my place, my youth group rose, stood over me, and prayed.
It was within this same week that I received my calling into ministry. It was a time of night where we were called into repentance, Greg Frazee singing David Crowder Band’s “Remedy” over us. We were front row for the first time that night, and with the call to repentance I stepped up, knelt down, and prayed. I sobbed, begging God to forgive all that I had done. That’s when all went silent and I heard His voice. He said something like, “Go and heal the broken, the eating disordered, suicidal, self-mutilators, and addicted.” It was a gentle command. I told my youth group that night, and was yet again prayed over.
I'll openly admit it's something I could never hope to do. My mind is to dirty and I really long for a family someday. Not now, but someday I hope. I think about it to much at times, I know I shouldn't let it run my life. I'm just kind of afraid I'm going to end up alone with only my cats for company. Anyway though, I'm getting off track here. This is about you, not me! I just wanted to let you know I find you so inspiring! You've been through so much and your connection with God leaves me with awe. You've actually heard His voice! Should I never come back to this site again, I don't think I'll ever forget you!