Mercy expectations

This is a recent piece by Mercy Survivor Kathryn who blogs at Comfortably Numb.

Some of it, I was prepared for…. Other things, not so much.

I knew it was going to be hard- I didn’t know it was going to be nearly impossible.

I knew they were going to be strict about nutrition- I didn’t know I’d be forced to swallow things I couldn’t stand. (Or that when I gagged on them, I’d be told I wasn’t “allowed” to throw up.)

I knew that there was going to be lots of church and spiritual training- I wasn’t prepared to get in trouble for simple things like sitting down during worship, not taking enough notes, or thanking a pastor after a sermon.

I was prepared to have stern rules for going to the mall- I was not prepared to get in trouble because I was 11¢ short for my shampoo, so the cashier gave me a quarter and that meant my change was off.

I’ve always known it’s important to stay clean- I never dreamt I’d get in trouble for going a single day without a shower.

I was aware that there was a fitness routine- I was not aware that I’d be disciplined for not working out enough on my own, outside of our daily trip to the local YMCA, in the time that I was supposed to be doing counselling assignments.

I knew that I’d have to learn to pray through anxiety and panic attacks- I didn’t know I’d be forced to stand up and read “God’s Creative Power” out loud (while I couldn’t breathe?) all the while being told that I was faking it.

I knew that there were precise bed times and times to get up at- I didn’t know that I’d get in trouble for falling asleep at any other time- even though I couldn’t help it because it was the meds making it hard to stay awake, and they wouldn’t let me reduce them without a change in prescription, but they wouldn’t let me see a doctor to get that change in prescription.

I was prepared for lots of counselling and hard work- I was completely unaware that the work I needed to do would be to read countless Joyce Meyer books and write reflections on them. Nor was I prepared to be told that I simply couldn’t move forward anymore unless I accepted that God loved me. (Have I heard it? Yes. Does my brain believe it? Yes. Had that knowledge transferred to my heart yet? No, but I didn’t know how to make that happen.)

I knew that they would want me to hear God’s voice, and speak back to Him in tongues- I was unprepared for my counselor to tell me that I was at a standstill, and unless I could hear Him audibly speaking to me, I couldn’t keep going.

I was aware that some of the things I’d done were unbelievable- I was not prepared to have the staff there second guess me and tell me they didn’t believe the truth.

I had razor blades embedded in my arm, and despite the fact that one was close enough to the surface to feel it, despite the fact that I had a letter from my GP (so that I could get through airport security) I was told that was simply not possible.

I thought that I was going to Mercy Ministries to be healed- I did not know that was supposed to happen by ignoring the physical doctors and just praying the bad things would go away.

I am from Canada and was at Mercy Ministries St. Louis. When I tried to enter the US, I had problems at the border. The way that I was finally allowed in, was complicated. If I left the United States, it would be difficult, if not impossible for me to get back in again. So, I knew that when all the other girls were travelling home for Christmas, I wouldn’t be able to go. I was told, by Mercy Ministries, that they would arrange for a host family that I could stay with over the holidays. As Christmas got closer, I was told that I couldn’t stay at Mercy Ministries, because it would be closing for the holidays, but that they didn’t trust me enough to let me stay with a host family either.

To put it bluntly- I was prepared for lots of church, spirituality and faith to be addressed- but I thought it would be in addition to, not instead of receiving professional medical help for my mental illness(es)- mental illness which the staff at Mercy Ministries were not qualified, nor prepared to deal with.

They should not be taking in these girls who have real issues and need real help and promising them things that they can’t deliver. It’s not fair, it’s not ethical, and it shouldn’t even be legal- yet somehow, it’s still happening.

St Louis #3

This piece by Mercy Survivor Kathryn was originally published on her personal blog, Comfortably Numb, and can be viewed here.

I’m so sick and tired
Of not being believed
They say coming here was my choice
But I feel I’ve been deceived
Here, when I speak,
It’s all a lie
When I weep, I am told
“Just ‘choose’ not to cry”
I’m tired of everyone thinking
That I chose to be this way
No one wants to live like this
No matter what they say
I’m telling the truth
Why do they always question it?
All of this mistrust
Just makes me want to quit
I want to go home to my parents
At least they usually believe me
I won’t be babysat
Or held under lock and key
Maybe I don’t even need to go home
I really just want a way out
So I’ll kill myself while I’m here
Death is one thing they can’t doubt
For once you’re dead, you’re dead
No if’s, and’s, or but’s
I’ll finally be gone
My eyes forever shut

Getting out of St Louis

This piece by Mercy Survivor Kathryn was originally published on her personal blog, Comfortably Numb, and can be viewed here.

I miss my kids
I miss my home
Why must I be here?
So utterly alone….
I miss my Mom
I miss my Dad
How did I turn into this?
When did I get so bad?
I miss my school
I miss my job
I’ve broken down
I sob and sob
I miss real food
I miss my bed
Would anyone care
If I was found dead?
I miss my family
I miss my friends
But like all good things
It eventually ends
I miss my independence
I miss being in control
I want it all back
Getting out is my goal

St Louis #2

This piece by Mercy Survivor Kathryn was originally published on her personal blog, Comfortably Numb, and can be viewed here.

I can’t live like this
It’s not working out
Nobody believes things
I tell them about
What’s the point?
They don’t believe what I say
How can I trust them?
Why should I stay?
Trust goes both ways
You don’t get it for free
So why should I trust them,
When they don’t trust me?
At home, at least
I’m believed when I speak
No one disagrees with me
Or turns the other cheek
I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to try
I want to give up
I just want to die

Leaving St Louis

This piece by Mercy Survivor Kathryn was originally published on her personal blog, Comfortably Numb, and can be viewed here.

I’d made up my mind
I was going to stay
But they’ve made theirs up too
I’ll be going away
Much liquid was spilled
Tears of salt and tears of blood
Now my future’s so unclear
It’s dark and thick like mud
Soon I’ll be going home
But I still don’t know when
I’ve lost another chance
I’ve fucked it up again
I’m sorry Mom and Dad
I know that you don’t want me back
So I’ll try and make it quick
I’ll be out of your way like ‘that’
No point in paying for the plane
The money’s just a waste
When he’s already calling me
Death’s close enough to taste
Please, don’t bring me back
Please, don’t even try
The return would just be pointless
I’d be coming home to die

St Louis #1

This piece by Mercy Survivor Kathryn was originally published on her personal blog, Comfortably Numb, and can be viewed here.

It’s getting so hard
It’s much worse at night
I don’t know if I can make it
If I have the strength to fight
I swore when I left home
“There’s no coming back”
But now that I’m here
That certainty, I lack
I’m worn out and broken
All I do is cry
It’s so hard just to be here
Let alone to try
I want to sleep in my own bed
And eat whatever I choose
To be free in the afternoon
If I want to take a snooze
I’m 25 years old
And being treated like a child
I like making my own choices
And sometimes acting wild
I can’t do this anymore
I’m drowning in my tears
I don’t know where I need to be
But I know that it’s not here

Fuck up

This piece by Mercy Survivor Kathryn was originally published on her personal blog, Comfortably Numb, and can be viewed here.

yeah, i fucked it up
so? what else is new?
i fuck up everything i try
fucking up is what i do
everyone was praying
asking God to help somehow
but i still fucked up, i still got kicked out
even God doesn’t want me now
He doesn’t want me to be happy
He doesn’t care that i cry
He doesn’t want me to get through this
He won’t care when i die
You might think that’s extreme
that i should still hang on
but i’ve been holding on for much too long
i just can’t be that strong
i’ve been digging and digging a hole
it just gets more and more deep
finally they’ve covered the top
and left me in here to weep
but weeping, i won’t do
i won’t let them be satisfied
i’ll sit by myself in that deep dark hole
till i’ve wasted away and died
maybe then they’ll be happy
that they sent me home
that they pointed me to suicide
and caused me to write this poem
i hope that makes them happy
i hope from this they learn
that when you’re not helped up to heaven
you’re left in hell to burn


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