By Paityn Masters
All my life I had been searching. Seeking for what? Of that I didn’t know. Years of torture and abuse had disconnected my body and mind. And my soul? I was told I didn’t have one, that I was worthless and subhuman. All I wanted was for someone to touch me, love me, and care. But I was left all alone. The only evidence of human connection were the bruises on my skin and the feeling of the pastor’s rough hands caressing my four year old body. It’s not a sin… she’s illegitimate… a bastard child! Mom was ashamed of me, so it didn’t matter that the only touch that I would ever feel would be the perverted and filthy hands of society’s most horrific breed. My body tried to advocate for me, by screaming to the world in black and blue. No one heard me, no one reached out to touch or hold me, and no one rescued me from the agony I endured. My mind began to create heroes who would come to my rescue and save me… but no one ever came. So my imaginary friends developed into psychotic delusions.
I searched religion to try to find God, but I only discovered how far I was from him. I searched everywhere for love and for someone to care. So much seeking and so little found… I abandoned my quest for this unknown destination and auctioned my body to the highest bidder. It didn’t matter anyway; I was just a shell with no life and no hope. My mind was fragmented from the years of abuse and the years of searching without finding answers or hope.
Sitting in a catatonic state, I hear the psychiatrist’s diagnosis… schizophrenia, post-traumatic stress, coupled with a severe disassociation disorder. She will never speak, never be successful, and she will never have relationships. “I will never be loved and never feel the warm touch of another human being,” the only sense that my fragmented mind could comprehend. Even the little information that I could understand with my disjointed thoughts ripped my heart in two. My schizophrenic mind was screaming for help through nightmares, hallucinations, and flashbacks, but they just medicated the symptoms rather than the pain.
I was so weary of seeking and searching that I was ready to end it all…end the pain forever. Then it happened so unexpectedly, ….but I had to take a chance. Why not? I was already destined to a devil’s hell. Fearful that I would surely die, I took a bite of the apple of sin… but I did not feel the touch of death like I did with so many others. When she touched me, I felt the touch of God. For the first time I felt love. I felt love so pure and true. I had searched everywhere for love, I had been to so many churches… searching, so many people, and so many places. But God found me through a willing vessel with the tenderness to allow Christ to love and heal me through her love. The doctor’s gave no hope. Risperdal, Abilify, Prozac, Stelazine, and Ativan had no solution. Pastors and saints were too busy to show mercy and grace. The moment of healing came when I embraced the revelation that if such a wonderful person could love me, then God must love me and care about me. The delusions began to fade, medication was no longer needed, and I started to become a whole person. I started to dream again, have hope, and believe in bright future.
There are many who would be quick to pass judgment, and think of how appalling and unholy I was. But Christ found me in an unorthodox place and healed me. But isn’t that how Christ was anyway? He touched those who no other would touch, healed and made whole those with no other hope, and became a savior to the world. I don’t know if Christ was a parable used to teach us, a historical figure, or the son of God… But I do know that he is whoever we need him to be… A friend, a teacher, a companion, a lover, someone to pass the blame when we don’t understand,… a pain healer, a hope giver, a grief bearer. He comes not in the form of a king… But in the form of ordinary and even unorthodox individuals demonstrating the revolutionary concept of what it means to love.
[Last edited Aug 26, 2011 21:39:56]