[This was written some time ago and the healing has been slow and tough. Now I am largely recovered yet my responsibilities are now very great as a healer, child protector and church ambassador.]
I am what is termed “mentally ill.” Personally I prefer the term of myself having a mental disorder. The term mentally ill can be a judgemental label and one which, though usually used innocently, can bring connotations of being a condition of someone of less worth than someone who is “totally sane.” Yet a mental disorder is experienced by everyone to one degree or another.
The Eastern Orthodox Church recognises this and classes very few people as “sane.” In fact, sanity is really regarded as the preserve of the Saints and excluded to almost everyone else by reason of our sinfulness and the weakness of our flesh.
Yet it is true that some of us experience these disorders more wildly and with greater ferocity than others and so the world has labelled us – and we label ourselves, too – as “ill.”
Confusion as a Lifestyle
I am confused at times. This is my testimony of a little about how I became confused and how I entered into a lifestyle choice of confusion.
I have always believed in the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ except for a brief period just before and then throughout my teenage years.
Yet there were early influences which fed into the confusion: violence at home, including sexual violence, and then, once retreat had been made to my maternal grandparents a rather blessed childhood even if we as children were rather mollycoddled.
When my great grandmother died my great grandfather, “Grandpa Ralph,” came to live with us. We bought a big house with the proceeds from two houses and had many a happy day there. I was developing some sexual sins, though, which weighed heavy on me and I was disillusioned with school and my fellow schoolmates.
I would discover often in the morning that I ad a tummy ache and so would stay home from school to watch telly (Dangermouse, The Frumps etc.) and would write stories and draw maps like my hero J.R.R. Tolkien did.
The Freemasonry Link
There is another important aspect to my childhood: the link to Freemasonry. Grandpa Ralph was a member of the Freemasons. In my confusions the past year I have thought he made it to the Level 3 Freemason (similar to a level 3 mage in The Gathering, but real and with real-world influence) but all that level 3 business was probably just in my mind. My grandpa’s main concern was the socialising. He was also a member of the local church, an Anglican Church (as far as I am aware the Anglicans are the only denomination of the Christian faith which allows simultaneous membership of the Freemasons.)
In addition he was a journalist, and taught me how the textbooks could not always be trusted. He was one who actually tried to discipline me but I ran to Mummy who told him off (I was about 12 years old then, at a guess, maybe younger.)
Yet one story I have been told by my Nan later has stuck with me. It was about a time when Grandpa Ralph came home disturbed from a Masonic Meeting. He was silent and withdrawn. Later my Nan found him throwing away a shirt and asked him why. He told her.
A ritual had been performed at the Masonic Meal. I won’t go into detail as it has disturbed him, my Nan and myself and that disturbance has to stop somewhere, but this is the essence of it: It was a mockery of God’s word and God’s law.
The Greater Part of my Confusion
My real confusion began in the 90s. Despite having a minor breakdown around the age of 14 I started to dabble in drugs at 17. First cannabis, then I moved on to magic mushrooms and LSD. Then Ecstasy (MDMA).
I became heavily involved in the scene of festivals, nightclubs, all-nighters and the philosophy and music of the 60s, 70s and 90s. Heady stuff. Dangerous stuff.
Confusion hit fully when I was 20. I was admitted to hospital, officially voluntarily – though I felt I had no choice other than to comply – and was put on medication. And thus began an adulthood of insanity to one degree or another. The pills and injections calmed my mind and they helped me survive, but the sins which plagued me – drink, sexual sins, rebellion – were not assuaged at all but rather I now felt little guilt or any fear.
The Journey Out of Confusion
I am now 45 years old. I kept returning to the street drugs and would periodically come off my medication and go crazy on drugs and old ways. This even after I had recommitted my life to Jesus Christ when I was about 22 years old. The medication prevented my feeling of guilt and my fear of God, so why not take the drugs and listen to that old music?
I am now, I believe, on a journey out of this confusion. I shall write about that, along with the dangerous slide into heresies and damnable doctrines, in Part Two of this Testimony of Confusion.