Across the country to change - Part 2 of 3 (176 hits)
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Submitted by Dalai Queso (View user info) at 2008-01-28 14:40:10 EST
Part 1 - http://www.ubersite.com/m/114607
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I moved away from my neighbor, friend, and drug dealer in an effort to stop doing drugs. For the most part, it worked. I managed to cut back significantly without his constant presence. Being my only friend in California, however, I still visited him occasionally. I moved to another part of Long Beach, a predominantly Mexican area.
I sought out spiritual reformation. I found a two week retreat advertising deliverance. Deliverance from curses and spiritual oppression. Those sounded like things I would like to be delivered from, so I went. I was holed up in a hotel each night, as the event lasted most of the day. At that point, I was still unable to handle being around myself and drank myself to sleep on several of those lonely nights.
While I was there, however, a great deal of talking and symbolic actions led me to believe I had just wasted a good sum of money on a bunch of hokey junk. There were a handful of people labeled as "prophets" who would stand in front of the group of about 50 attendees and deliver "messages from God". The messages sounded meaningful, like something from the Bible, yet much like something that could have been faked. Each message was some call to action, or some instruction in further symbolic action. The messages sounded like they could have been used at every one of these retreats. Some were even in tongues. I participated half-heartedly, full of doubt.
About a week in, I noticed that not once had any of the messages mentioned anyone attending by name. So without telling anyone, I prayed to God, "if that's really you talking through these people, say my name and I'll believe it's you." I prayed it fervently, hoping for some indicator that this wasn't all a big cruel joke.
Something the main speaker said to everyone that stood out to me was, "1 year from now, you will all be very different people for having attended this seminar. You won't even recognize yourselves." I hoped sincerely that he meant I would no longer be depressed, no longer an escapist, maybe that I would even be happy. Several more days of hearing these "messages from God", no mention of names, I would go back to my hotel and drink myself to sleep. I continued to pray that God would call me by name so I could be sure He was there.
The last day of the seminar. The last "message from God". The message was congratulatory, telling everyone of blessings to come and what not. Then I heard my name. 3 times in a row, followed by, "you are blessed, you are blessed. I am using you, and will continue to use you." Now, to one who believes in God, who believes his only purpose is to be used by God, this is extremely good to hear. I had told no one of my prayer, and there I was, the only one of about 50 people attending called by name in a message from God. I wished I had paid better attention earlier, but then I knew that my money had not been wasted.
I went home a changed man. My thoughts were more positive. I had hope for the future like never before. I still battled depression regularly, but I knew I had to wait for this change. One year. In one year I would be a different person.
In one instance of drug induced enthusiasm, I helped my friend/dealer find religion. He even quit dealing. Pretty impressive change considering his history. He still grows for himself, but you don't have to be perfect to be saved.
I was still overweight, though down to 160 pounds from my highest of 210. One day while working at the refinery one of my co-workers looked at me with my sleeves rolled up and said, "is that a noodle hanging from your shoulder? Oh. It's your arm!" I looked at him, kind of confused by his comment. "You're skinny!" he shouted. I grinned the biggest, most genuine grin I had grinned since hearing that message from God. "Thanks!" Seeing that strategy fail, my co-workers went back to calling me wierd and white. For the most part they left me alone. I was the whitest white boy there and very quiet. I later learned they all thought I was going to come in one day with a bomb strapped to my chest and guns blazing.
I still wasn't happy. I felt like a loser, and though it was confirmed that others thought I was skinny, looking in the mirror I still felt fat. My horribly negative self-image was a significant contributor to my depression. I dieted my way down to 155, and still looked very pudgy without a shirt on. That's when I found the website of a man who went from a chubby and shapeless man to a bodybuilder over the course of 4 years. I didn't know it could be done. That there was actually a possibility that I could have the body of my dreams inspired me like nothing before.
I went out and bought a set of adjustable dumbbells and began doing whatever sort of weight lifting exercises I could think of along with as many pushups as I could handle. I researched and learned about how to exercise properly. I learned from the experienced what I needed to do and I started doing it. I still felt miserable, but I fought off the negative thoughts with everything I had. My diet wasn't ideal and my lifting was haphazard, but I had been doing nothing up to that point so I started seeing progress after a couple months.
I began to actually feel good about myself. It was about this point that I no longer had to wrestle with thoughts of suicide. I looked less fat, and was starting to see a desirable shape in the mirror. All alone in my room I felt good about myself, but it was getting more and more difficult to withstand the onslaught of people everywhere I went. My apartment grew increasingly familiar. Mild agoraphobia began to rear it's ugly head and my job stability was wavering.
Things got worse before they got better...
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