I was basically born with cancer and I then developed seizures and then something that was called pseudo seizures or panic attacks or attention seeking- who knows?- and a phobia of open spaces (not agoraphobia, I was seriously afraid of being in spaces that were big enough for me to put my arms out and not be able to reach a person or big thing. This was horrifying and quite embarrassing- falling on the ground and shaking was bad enough when I knew they were seizures but when it could have been due to acting out or making things up in my head (I was told this often, even by close family and classmates) or having panic attacks it was really painful. I hated my life more than you can possibly imagine. I felt alone and dejected and rejected and hated and judged. Nothing in my life felt safe and secure or rarely happy. I was not depressed, so to speak, but I was sad and demoralized beyond basic comprehension. Then add to this -this was almost the worst part- that God hurt me. Well, not really but He seemed to let me to be hurt which did not really seem all that different. I prayed to God -and screamed and cried- that he would kill me or fix me and nada. God was silent and still or so it appeared. I figured God abandoned me so I abandoned Him. This was not like what I had been told about God: the nice guy who takes care of our needs, saves us and will one day take us to heaven. I was familiar with John 3:16 (For God so loved the World that He gave His only begotten son that whosoever believes in Him will not die but have everlasting life) and not with 'God comes that we might have life and have it more abundantly', mentioning that it doesn't always appear to be abundant in anything but turmoil. Or John 16:33 in which Jesus promises that in this life we will have trouble / tribulation but take heart because I (He) have overcome the world. I had little to no support and the One whose support and trust and love mattered the most didn't seem to care about me. My Pentecostal upbringing didn't seem to be bringing me up in the world at all. I didn't go to church -it is hard enough to get a teen to attend church let alone when they're in dire pain and blame it on God. I didn't read the Bible. I tried not to hang out with other Christians (although oddly enough when I did I felt like I just 'belonged' and was genuinely loved and accepted and without knowing, I was more comfortable because I didn't have to listen to vulgar swear words and bullying or much negative at all). I skipped school because I physically, mentally and emotionally was not able to go. There were little respites such as having Danielle Head, my bestest best friend as I called her, to stand by my side (although oddly enough she sometimes seemed to enjoy being the one to help make me fall) and love and sort of take care of me. There were moments when I felt okay despite everything you'd think -how big the space I stood in was, being overtired which was one of my triggers, being nervous because I had no one I trusted around, etc. My doctors never listened to me and actually kind of tortured me -medical practices in the 1990s have come far. I was misdiagnosed, dismissed for being too young and not being a doctor myself. Then it was kind of over and I had kids and married and it started all over. See, I had went off my pills because I had been fed the word of faith ideation- the "name it and claim it" way of seeing the Christian world- and believed it meant that I could wish I needed no medications and such and then that would be it, I'd be all healed up and better equipped to live a life that was happy with and pleasing to God. No, what happened was that I had to live with the responsibility of being a wife and mother, going through what the first time I at least had no one relying on me. Going it without God is life without hope nor joy nor breakthrough (s). Life with God is- well, life.