When memories die hard

"We treat them with exposure therapy, to prevent avoidance behavior. To overcome, they shouldn't have to go around it or avoid it, they need to go through it and learn that it's okay."

This is one of the toughest lessons I've had to learn - to not run away.

I guess I thought I was doing great back home, but I really just wasn't. I had occupied my time with church and my hipster cafe job so I wouldn't have to spend hours thinking about my problems, my unforgiveness.

But now I have nothing.

Sure I have to study and do my homework, but when I get so tired and my mind cries out for rest, I drift off. I've lost count of the number of times I've drifted back to Malaysia and replaying the events of last year in my head, only to be awakened when my professor asks a question. Even when I pay attention to my class, I somehow end up drifting back to the past and a lot of it back there really hurts.

Abnormal psych hasn't been an easy class. Academically I'm doing really well (like honestly I haven't gotten a 100 in a test since I left primary school), but mentally I tend to get pretty distracted and depressed on some days. When I learn about the mental disorders that people are diagnosed with and how they're being offered treatment for it, I get angry. I think about that one time my youth pastor remarked that "Psych majors like to dramatize everything" and I almost drop an F-bomb mentally.

I remember the time I talked about my problems and told him I was going for psychotherapy. He immediately got alarmed and thought I was going to be on drugs, though I sure as hell wasn't. He said I should've sought spiritual help. The thing is, I did and it didn't help at all.

What was I suppose to do then? I had issues and I wanted to deal with it, so I could overcome them and be the person God had created me to be, without the anxiety and the anger. My parents got my vote and they even went with me for therapy and it helped, though only briefly, because I came here.

I find it strange that someone would think that I had never reached out to the church. I have, but all I tend to receive is nothing but criticism for "overreacting" or "taking it too seriously". I was tired of hearing the thoughts in my head go "Oh, I'll come along" when I felt miserable and wanted to deal with it. Also, I understand that putting my focus in serving others and loving others did help, but it still couldn't destroy years of self-conditioning, which made me mistrust everyone and not be vulnerable to anyone. I've made progress, but even so, these things still go on and take time.

I was so mad. And a part of me, still is mad, though I've declared time and time again that I forgive him for saying such things out of ignorance.

There is this girl in my class who asked my professor this once, "How can you tell if it is a psychological disorder or a spiritual or demonic thing?" My professor couldn't give a proper answer, but his best bet was that if the disorder does not go away even after treatment, he would refer them for pastoral care or something of the sort. He didn't diminish those possibilities, but said that we'd have to be careful about how we diagnose things.

This mentality just doesn't exist in church back home, especially a charismatic Pentecostal one. There is so much emphasis on miracles, signs and wonders that people find the thought of considering secular medical or mental health care as the prime option is close to sin. People don't seem to think that perhaps God might want to heal a person through medical means. I know it took my mum ages to realize that I needed more help than just counselling at church, or to just go to some healing service or prophetic event. I don't doubt that God works through these events, but I do believe that we must consider the possibility that God might work through other means as well.

I think people just don't see how serious things are. Say, if this was domestic violence, how would you counsel someone who's going through that? During my gender psych class, I got to hear clips of pastors who suggested that women went to the elders and leaders of the church in order for them to deal with their abusive boyfriends or husbands. Worse still, I heard a clip of a pastor who even told the woman to undergo the abuse for a season, and pray about it until he repented. I found it more appalling that they had even said, "It depends on the level of abuse." What on earth does that even mean?! ABUSE IS ABUSE. If what we do unto our neighbor is what we do unto God, would that person not have sinned for even abusing that person? It was not meant for anyone to just continue to be abused. Now that I think about it, it's insane. It's insane that a prestigious church leader would allow that to happen, and it makes you question where the church is headed to with such ignorant talk.

I'm not saying my situation is as bad as domestic violence. I'm not saying that I need to be pitied and the whole world needs to be at my aid. I'm saying that my problem is real, and I had every right to get help, and well, even my parents gave their blessing. My mum has become more open minded and now she sees why a field like psychology even exists. It exists because it helps people overcome, it helps people grow. We might disagree on a lot of things, but I'm glad we're on the same page when it comes to this.

Being here has been insane for me, emotionally and mentally. Now that I don't have a hectic schedule that drowns away my sorrows, I have to deal with my problems. I need to deal with my lacking walk with God. I suddenly have time to hear the voice of the world and the voice of the enemy.

But I thank God that I can also hear His beautiful voice. I thank God that the Holy Spirit has never left, even when I don't feel like it. Even without the worship team blasting Jesus Culture and a 30 minute long session of glossolalia, I feel His presence here. I know His presence and oh, it leaves me in awe. I try hard not to bawl in church because people here are a lot more conservative but it's hard. God's presence just enters and I cry, because I can feel it. It's crazy.

So don't ever tell me other denominations aren't spirit filled. That's a whole lot of loony going on there. GOD IS OMNIPRESENT. And the Holy Spirit surely is, because the Spirit is the Spirit of God.

Right now, I'm struggling. I'm struggling hard. I'm not gonna lie and pretend that I'm having a blast every single day, because I'm not. I go through pain. That's not to say that I'm ungrateful. I am blessed to be here. I am very, very blessed and I do not regret it at all. Going to the U.S. has been a dream I have always wanted to fulfill and God made it all happen. He placed this desire in my heart, and I can see a little bit of why he did that now.

He wants me to overcome. He wants my mind, to renew it so I may be transformed.

I cried out to Him today, afraid of ever returning to Malaysia. When I think of the people who have hurt me, I am angry. I wonder how I will ever serve him if I ever step foot into my church ever again. Won't I only drown in hatred and things would return to how they were?

But God is faithful. I choose to believe that God will give me whatever it takes to overcome. I will keep on forgiving them, and I will be able to love these people again with a pure heart, some day. I will overcome my anxiety - my heart will cease to palpitate with every class discussion, and I will not feel sad anymore despite being in a crowd of people.

Yet, with all these troubles, Paul's words come to mind,

"So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

- 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Psycholo-geez

It's been more than a month now since I started college. I think it's suffice to say that I've met people from various walks of life, and I have friends I could talk to, although I'm still a little reserved. I guess time will take its course and I'll grow deeper in my friendships with people.

Most of the people that I've become friends with so far, aren't my classmates. You'd think that since I see these people, every day I'd be friends with them, right? WRONG. Firstly, most people in my classes already have their own group of friends and they've been there for a while to know one another and feel no inclination to befriend that unfamiliar Asian girl sitting right in front of class. Secondly, people here are fast. Yes, they move very quickly. When lectures end, people are out of the door in seconds. I'm always the last person there, and well, yes it's awkward, but well, it's sad too, because then I'd have no one I could talk to, just to get to know them. I did make one friend in class, but that's pretty much my success rate, which really isn't successful at all. But oh well, I tried and I'm content.

Instead, I make friends at the cafeteria. Typically, I don't have plans to go to lunch or dinner with anyone, except for the one friend I made in my gender psych class, whose company I really enjoy, but apart from that, I usually just go in and sit with people I recognize. To be fair, I did meet a couple of people during orientation and so I sat with those people first, but then they had their friends and once I got to know them, I got to sit with them too even if the people I'd met first weren't there. It makes perfect sense. That's how I've been social with people in these past couple of weeks, by sitting with people and just talking to everyone.

A few weeks ago, I decided to sit with a friend I had met at the caf from sitting with other people and as usual, I met some new faces. My friend introduced me to some of them, including this girl, C, who was a junior and taking classes to enter physical therapy school. She seemed pretty quiet, but I said hi to her anyway and then she said hi too. Still being pretty awkward, I didn't converse with her much, though I did talk to the people I already knew. The conversation was mostly about college and some other things, and then I shared a little about my struggle of fitting in and how strange my classes were.

As I talked to my friend, other people on the table tuned into our conversation, including C. Realizing that C was paying attention, I took a more inclusive approach with the group and shared with everyone about how I felt, but more particularly with C. My friend had told me that she'd been here long enough to know quite a bit, and so I made it a point to get her opinion. Seeing that she was looking right at me anyway, I directed my question to her, about how classes were in general, but I didn't mention her name.

But she didn't respond. She kept looking at me, but she didn't say anything. At first I thought she might've been thinking, but after an awkward silence, I wasn't sure what to make of it, and so I turned toward someone else and asked that person instead. I got my question answered, but I was still wondering why she hadn't responded to my question. She was looking right at me, so she would have known I was talking to her. Nevertheless, I just shrugged it off, thinking maybe she was distracted.

After we met for the first time, I began noticing her in the Caf more often. Sometimes I'd say hi and sit with her, along with some others. And again, during conversations, she held the same look, the same gaze, or stare, whatever you might want to call it, when people spoke. Occasionally, people would ask her questions and she would answer them, but when the conversation was generally about anything and everything, she was mostly silent, although she did add to it once in a while. Sometimes I'd ask questions and she'd answer them too, though not without some form of silence at first.

I also began noticing C around campus. Once a friend and I had bumped into her, and we ended up having small talk with her. Other times, I alone saw her, and I'd say hi. It took her a while to reply though, and I wondered if that might have been because she didn't remember me, or did not consider me close enough to say hi. A couple of times after that, I guess I saw her but I decided I wouldn't say hi because well, it was awkward.

But now I feel bad, because I just found out why.

I was just browsing the news section on the college website when I stumbled across an article of an interview of C. I'd known she was an athlete by the clothes she often wore, but I didn't quite know what she did and what was it that was so special about her that she landed an interview for the news section.

She's blind, and she has been, for most of her life.

It all began to make sense. She couldn't see me, and so she couldn't respond, or would take longer to if she noticed me somehow. She could look right at the person who was talking because she had a good auditory sense, but she could not know for sure, sometimes.

I feel horrible. I feel stupid, actually. How could I not have realized she was blind? And all this time, I thought she was just strange, and didn't want to acknowledge me somehow.

Man, I was blind. To the disabled. To everything. Well, I could tell if someone was physically impaired, but I could never tell if someone was intellectually challenged. I just assumed they were strange characters, but I never saw mental disorders as part of the reason why.

And to think that I'm an aspiring clinical psychologist. I must be crazy.

But really, I think she just helped me see. I see now that the world is a more diverse place than I'd ever imagined. I see now that people are truly different, not just in the color of their skin or in their age, but even in their functional ability. I'd never been in a school that catered the needs of the disabled, but now I have, and it's amazing. It's great that I am part of a school that includes everyone and gives all people a chance to have an education, and I notice things I probably would've overlooked in the past. I see now why toilets seem abnormally larger than I would envision - it's so a wheelchair could come through. I see now why there are walkways around campus - it's so the blind can navigate and know where they are going.

I see that these people are very much like you and me, just different in some ways. They might be missing a limb, or their eyesight, or even their intellectual capacity, but they aren't lacking as a human being.

They can live life as fully as we can, if not fuller.

Wow.

Help Me Find My Own Flame

I don't want to ride on somebody else's passion

I don't want to find that I'm just dry bones

I want to burn with unquenchable fire

Deep down inside see it coming alive

Help me find my own flame

Help me find my own fire

I want the real thing

I want Your burning desire

Do what only You can do

In my heart tonight,

There's no better time

- Will Reagan & United Pursuit

This really resonated with me. I need to find my passion in who God has created me to be, not what others expect me or impose on me to be. Sometimes we look at other people and see what a great walk they have with God, or we become in awe of the things they've accomplished as a person and wish we could be more like them.

But that's not right. God made us for a purpose that he himself gives us, and to try and be another one of his creations only means we are not happy with how he has made us. And who are we to question our function? God knows what is best, and we must stay close to Him to know what He is doing in our lives.

So I must live with a fire for God, to please Him and Him alone.

Everything else, really, is nothing.