As a Disabled American Veteran, I’ve struggled with a lot of sadness. My outlook on my social life seemed friendless. But for the last several years, I have seen signs along the way of life that remind me of how Father God has not forgotten me.
As a young girl I had one good friend in my first public elementary school. When that school closed due to being a very old building, I went to another public elementary school, thus losing my one good friend. It seemed like I was the one who everybody misunderstood and I just couldn’t find any friends. After two years of torment, I got permission to enter a private, parochial elementary school.
Wow! What a difference! I felt loved, for a change, in my new environment. Although it took me a year to get used to the academic load, I was convinced this was where I wanted to be.
However, I was still troubled at home. I was always the one who missed the school bus and arrived late for Mass in the morning. I eventually grew to love church, and in the summer before entering eighth grade I would walk two miles to church every morning, volunteer to help the nuns clean the church, and even say the rosary. In the eighth grade I was a member of the youth guitar group who sang in church, and I would attend prayer meetings at a lay person’s house. I was growing so fast spiritually that I didn’t feel socially accepted by my peers, so I thought for sure I was going to be a nun when I grew up.
As I graduated on to high school, life got harder. My brother was suffering from depression, and my other brother was suffering from schizophrenia catatonia, my sister left home and got married, and most of all my father was gone due to my parents’ divorce, and my mother was always working two jobs. On top of that, high school had a different atmosphere and new kids, along with the ones I had the chance to know in my parochial elementary school.
With all these challenges in my life in freshman year, I was able to join the precision dance team at school, which lasted for one year. Hey, we went to state championship tournament though.
All through high school I felt backward. I didn’t know how to communicate with the in-crowd. I thought they hated me. All I knew was how to pray. So I prayed for my peers.
I had my first love, and then I lost him. And because of him, I eventually went to a vocational school and graduated from both high schools.
Life went on. I had a job as a discount department store clerk and cashier for two years, and then I went into the U.S. Air Force. I left my little dysfunctional home, and was able to spread my wings and fly on my own.
Time went by. I traveled and tasted different cultures. One culture was South Korea. I still have my pillows, mink blankets, and other souvenirs, and I still eat Bulgogi and rice. I learned a lot of lessons in South Korea during my one-year tour of duty. I learned administrative and business lessons, communication lessons, and even personal lessons. Oh, and I even learned how to prepare for war. Of course all that stress took its toll on me and my commander sent me to the mental health clinic. I went on to Oklahoma, where I experienced another culture. This time, it was country and the Bible Belt. During this time I experienced grief for the first time in my life when I lost my daddy. He had eventually remarried my mother when I entered basic training. That was an answer to prayer. After my dad passed on, I took full advantage of the Bible Belt. On emergency leave I had gotten re-baptized in the name of JESUS (Who embodies Father God and the Holy Ghost) in Cincinnati, Ohio. One of my Christian friends who I met in South Korea had insisted that I get re-baptized. When trouble started back up at home, I went back to Oklahoma. I started going to church again, and this time I got involved seven days a week. I had Bible studies and prayer meetings at my apartment, I was a prayer partner at Trinity Broadcasting Network, I went to AWACS Christian fellowship on base during lunch hour, I was co-worship leader in Singles Sunday-School classes, I taught children’s church, and on top of that I even had time to attend church services. God and life was so good to me. I was really enjoying my freedom in Christ. I even bought a horse! She was half quarter/Arabian mare. Then I got orders to go to Alaska. My assignment was about 200 miles south of the Arctic Circle. I was not ready to leave. I was in shock. But duty called. So I experienced a lot in Alaska. After one year though, I couldn’t wait to get back to Oklahoma. When I got there, it wasn’t the same for me. It didn’t change; I did. The stress and pressure shook me. I couldn’t see straight. There was no counselors for me; nobody understood me. And my commander threw me out of the military without any hospitalization or mental clinic.
Where was I supposed to go? Home? No way. It was not an option for me because of the temperament of my brothers. So I stayed in Oklahoma City with mentor’s mother-in-law, who was very kind. After that, I traveled to Tulsa. I thought I could survive on my own, but I couldn’t. I thought I could depend on the church, that I first attended in Tulsa, to help me live my life. But no, I finally went to another church in Tulsa and found support there. It was quite a shock again being in Tulsa. This time, nobody knew me, nor saluted me, nor respected me, just because I wasn’t a somebody. What a culture shock! I stayed there anyway, with the help of an Air National Guard recruiter who got me a little job as a weekend warrior. With that I got an apartment and I stayed in Tulsa until I had received everything I needed from God and church. By this time, I was ready to return home and face the music.
I arrived at home just in time for Christmas Eve of 1991. I avoided confrontation with my brothers. It was different now. Somehow the prayers of my church in Tulsa was answered, and God paved a way for me to be restored to my family. This was not the end. It was the beginning of a whole new life as a Disabled American Veteran. I tried to stay at home in Ohio until my other brother, who had catatonia, didn’t make it easy for me to live there. So I drove to Florida, where my mother had bought a house, and I stayed there. I was all alone there, except for the stray cat who befriended me. In my despair, I cried out to The Lord, and complained to Him. I asked Him, “Where are all my friends?” And I cried some more, with tears streaming out of my eyes and down my cheeks.
Soon my mother arrived in Florida. She had me see the psychologists and psychiatrists at the Veterans’ Hospital. This was the end of my life, I thought. I wanted so badly to be healed from my torment , especially healed by the Blood of the Lamb as I learned to believe. But my mother knew what was happening all a long, but I didn’t.
Now, after years of doctor appointments and taking strong medicine, I can finally see straight. I made up with my brothers, which was the first goal on my list. Then, instead of being angry and cursing, I practiced love toward my family, and prayed for them, which was my first obligation. I eventually learned to love again, and there was hope. I prayed for my mother, my sister, my brothers, my sister’s children and her husband, my brother’s wife and his step-children. That was my little world with the help of my big God. I didn’t go to church anymore, because of my mental illness. And there was peace in my life again.
In 2002, I went back to my hometown in Ohio for the holidays. I wanted to go to my 20th high school reunion, but I felt inadequate. So my sister decided to go with me. I got ready. I went to the beauty salon and did my hair style, and my sister took me to the clothing store and bought a black top and a black skirt and black shoes. by this time of my life I had gained over 125 pounds. So the day of my reunion came, and my sister and I drove to the party. Before I went in, I said to my sister in the car, “I feel like a dog ready to be shot!” But she was with me all the way into the doors. I was early and was able to sit in the corner, away from where I thought everybody would be sitting. Everybody started coming in, and I didn’t feel so bad after a while. A couple of people I remembered sat at my table. My sister was right there with me, ready to make sure I was going to be alright and to come to my defense at anytime. As the night went on, I was able to make conversation with some old school mates and their wives. One of the guys came up behind me and gave me a big kiss on the neck! Then I got hungry and finally got up to go to the food line. I eventually took pictures of all my parochial elementary school buddies. And I’ll never forget that one guy, who used to bully me, actually let me take his picture…and I gave him a big kiss on the cheek three times! There was so much love going around. But there was still more people to see on the other side of the room. Sadly, I stayed away from there because for some reason, I still felt inside like a dog ready to be shot. Two hours later, the reunion was over and everybody and their spouse went back home to their children. And me? I only had my Mom. My brother, who had catatonia, died in 1999. And my other brother, who was depressed, became happily married in 1993. So after New Year’s Day, I went back to Florida with Mom.
In 2004, I got a phone call out of the blue from my one good friend from a long, long time ago in my first elementary school. By this time, I was sort of scared to talk with her, but I did anyway. My prayers were answered. God put it on her heart to search for me on the Internet and call me. So for the last six years, we’ve been getting re-acquainted with each other again, and helping each other through our hard times. Even her mother was so happy to have me back in their lives again. It was just like old times. And this time is even better than before because I had made my peace with God and family… and my past.
Now in 2010, thanks to Facebook, I was able to connect to the rest of my high school friends. I’m so happy that God has taken care of me.
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