Today was my counseling appointment. I showed up, we had deep conversation, I left and went to a friend's house. She is someone that is the epitome of awesome. We grabbed the kids from school and engaged in conversation.
We listened to the kids playing spy vs. spy or something like that, we laughed, reminisced about our childhoods, the chainsaw messed up twice. Third time was the charm.
This woman has picked herself up by her bootstraps. She makes due with what little she has. Her boy, if all children could be this well behaved... yeah he gets in trouble, but overall, he's a great kid. He barely knows me, but he hugs me every time he sees me. Apparently I'm something special to him. He is being raised by an excellent parent. She is the type of mommy I would love to be.
I'm proud to be her friend.
I took some time to meditate and self reflect today. What if it was fate that I was hospitalized, how I was, who was involved with the ex parte orders, all of that good stuff? What if it is MY purpose in life to help people and advocate for the mentally ill and their rights? I've always considered myself to be some sort of warrior. That's probably why I wanted to be a Marine and took martial arts years ago.
I had my charts read a few years ago. She called me the Mystical Warrior... that I hate injustices with a passion, I'm equality all the way baby. What if I'm a champion that just found her cause?
I got to thinking "Well played, God, well played. Let me question my faith for years. Let me question your existence. Then set everything up. Mental health is finally getting its stance in the media. I felt destined to make the support group. And you made me smart enough and intellectually and spiritually curious enough to ask questions and find my beliefs, (Christo-Pagan), your "tests" throughout my life has strengthened me rather than wore me down. I was a metaphorical block of marble and you the sculptor. I am coming into my own. Thanks." I'm sure he smiled.
It's no wonder I feel a strong connection with Archangel Michael.
I bet I'm doing Saint Dymphna proud as well.
I'm sure Mom's sitting in a meadow in heaven, watching the bluebirds, glowing with delight because her daughter finally is doing something right in her life. Dad may or may not be proud. I don't think he understands my quirks... and hates tolerating them sometimes. My Grandparents in heaven are proud too.
I received a wonderful e-mail the other day, a gentleman that is smart enough to attain a Ph. D. and I have barely communicated with, said that he was proud of me for turning a negative into a positive and helping people while I'm at it. I'm still high off of that.
It is my war, the battles are mental health issues.