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Registered Member
Date Joined Jun 2001
Total Posts : 516
| Posted 6/27/2001 2:38 AM (GMT -6) |   | What's your story?
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Waazup, G? If there are any comments or questions about missing parts? File them. Just joking! Send 'em my way.
My name is Brandon Blake. I come from a broken home. When I was five years old back in '69-'70, my parents split up. As I reflect back on their divorce these days, I can understand why. My mother was diagnosed with acute schizophrenia. She was sick, both physically and mentally. This was a result of a rough life my mother experienced as a 5yr old when her mother died in WWII. It is also the result of other events such as leaving her country Germany and moving to Canada with my dad who was in the Canadian army at the time. Some army. More like a militia. It was also the result of a sister who died at 6 weeks of age who was a twin to my sister who is presently alive and doing well. What it came down to (my parents divorce) was that my dad could not handle living with a "mental case." I really can't blame him for that. I'm cool with that. But what I have a very hard time dealing with these days is what has since transpired as a result of my parents divorce. An absent father. When my father left, HE LEFT. He would show up once in awhile for about 2-3 hrs, maybe every 4 to 5 years, when he was transferred across the country. At Christmas and birthdays, us kids would receive gifts and the occasional phone call, but that was about it.
When my parents divorced, my mother and us kids moved to Toronto. For the first month we lived in a YWCA hole. We eventually found a suitable place to live and carried on life somewhat normally. We went to school and had a pretty routine way of life, except for the one thing-that I ended up having an absent mother as well. When we would come home from school, she had to go to work at either the famous Royal York Hotel (for the high society) or the equally famous Howard Johnson Restaurant (for the bit lower segment).
During one summer in Toronto, my mother sent us off to Summer Camp. We had a blast. Problem was, we caught lice that year. Which is no bad thing in itself. It became bad when our little friends wore out their welcome-which was about a year later. Like, "Hello??? You can leave now!!!" This was devastating to us as kids because soon everyone heard about us having a bug colony living on our heads and wanted to stay away-far away. As kids we were made fun of and teased-you know, the usual fanfare. Aaaand life was pretty much miserable after that. Actually it sucked royally!
In '74, it became apparent that my mother, as hard as she tried, could not care for four kids. And through a mutual friend of ours, three of the four of us went into a foster home in a small town called Amherstburg just outside of the Detroit-Windsor area where I presently reside. The area is best known for "The Underground Railroad." My oldest brother moved out east to New Brunswick to live with my dad. And as I look back at the time I spent in my foster home, from age 9-18, I can only think of one word, "Thankful." At the time I wasn't crazy about the being there, but in the end, it was probably the most stabilizing time in my life. There, we lived in a 13-bedroom, 3 bathroom house (converted from an old hotel). We had a beach and Lake Erie as our front yard. We would boat, fish, swim and have bonfires in the summer and in the winter, we would skate on the lake. One thing to keep in mind is that during this time in my foster home, I did poorly in school. I failed twice (grades 5 and 8) and I am still one credit shy of grade 12, though I have gone to a mediocre Bible School in Dallas since that time.
When I turned 13 years of age ('78), I went to a church service in Windsor held by a traveling evangelist family. Some of you may remember a kid known as "Little Michael Lord." An 11 yr old, who would travel across the continent with his mom and dad and "PREACH THE GOSPEL!!" The church was Pentecostal and there was a lot of singing and clapping hands and shouting, "Amen!" Today, “Mom and Pop Winans” visit the church and I have not returned to it but once in the last 22-23 years. As I look back on those early days of my "conversion," I can only say that God can and does use some of the lamest people, things and events to bring people to Him. He uses us in spite of ourselves. I mean, an 11-year-old punk kid preaching the Gospel?? These people were into fake healings and getting as much money from you as possible! Oh well. Paul says something about that in Philippians 1. Nonetheless, the Gospel was preached, even if it was in a distorted form at that!
When I turn 15 years of age, I became really interested in Josh McDowell's, "Evidence That Demands A Verdict." I couldn't believe that Christianity could be grounded in something more than my conversion experience! It was grounded in history! I started wanting to read more about other subjects such as evolution and Creation issues. It was sometime after that I drifted into some serious theology. I have come to love reading (about 3 books a week) which is soo unlike my childhood when I did poorly in school. I always wanted to be "ahead" of the game when it came to my classmates and Christianity was the start of my pursuit for knowledge. Well, what happened next was about to change my whole outlook on life.
At 17, I began to read a book called, "The Adversary." What I could not figure out was why Adam and Eve were held responsible for their sin, when they were "tricked" or "deceived?" I mean, if you are tricked into something, like a magician would trick you? Why are you held responsible? Later on I came to the conclusion that Adam and Eve weren't really tricked. They knew what God had said and they chose to disobey. No trickery involved. Tempted? Yes. Tricked? No. The problem for me was that I became obsessed with this question. I couldn't let go of it. I would eat and sleep and breathe this question. It took over my life! My obsession took over to the point that I went into clinical depression as a result. For six months, I cried my eyes out. My depression was sooo bad that I went into what psychologists term, "Dissociation." I didn’t recognize that this is what it was called at the time, but many episodes later, I now have a more complete understanding of it. Symptoms vary between people in one of two ways. Some people say that they watch themselves standing outside their bodies, usually from above and from behind and on the left side. Or as in my case, I zone right out and everything, in my mind, becomes "illusionary." This key- board is not real. This desk and computer are not real. This is very much like, "post- traumatic stress syndrome," when for example, a person who is in a war can only protect themselves from any more hurt and pain by cluing right out of reality. Twilight Zone people! Twilight Zone. Little did I know at the time, but I think this depression was going to happen anyway. That is, it was the result not of my obsession, which was just the trigger, but the result of my childhood without a father. It was only a matter of time. It would have reared its ugly head sooner or later. I know now, that as we grow up, we learn defense mechanisms that "shield" us from pain and hurt. But sooner or later those defense mechanisms no longer work and mental illnesses such as depression set in. I am not naive enough to believe that all of my depression is the result of an absent father. Of course, there was a mother who was mentally ill, hence the genetic factor. But that was one of the main events that "set me up for the fall." Other events can be "learned behaviour." For an example, as a child, I remember watching how my mother handled stress. On a scale from 0-10? About a 2. Aaaand, I picked this up. So there are many factors that come into play. Combined, they don't make for a pretty picture. This is why I have asked on these boards about "influence" and "control." It all comes back to my depression. A lot of questions stem from my pain. Am I determined to act or *re*-act a certain way because of my depression? In the end, even through all the muck and mire, I still have decisions that I am responsible for. Anyhoo...events such as getting married and having children were and are stress factors for me that I need to be careful with. Let me explain.
When I got married? I wasn't really happy with my job (working in the factory, brain-dead don’t cha know). This was stressful for me. I felt I would be stuck doing something I hated doing for the rest of my life now that I had the responsibility of a family. It's a guy thing. You wouldn't understand. Well, maybe you would. But when I had kids, I had the same stressful feelings. I remember when I put my oldest son, Brandon II, into the on-campus nursery at the school I attended in Dallas. That was a trigger and I freaked! I felt I was causing pain to my child. In my head, all I could think about was, "Why are you doing this to me?" Little did I know at the time that I was projecting. I believe that I was really thinking of my dad doing this to me. The ironic thing about it is that I was never anywhere further than 5mins on campus from my son. It was at about this time, in '93 that I took my first anti-depressant famously known as "Prozac." And when that baby kicked in (about a month later), it was then that I knew that I suffered from the common cold of mental illnesses-depression.
Since having kids (3 of them, Brandon, Brooke and Brett, ages 8, 6, 4 in that order) my depression raises it's ugly head in the form of panic attacks. I don't have to tell you what this has done to my marriage. As a result of this "demon" in my life, I have at times been quite dysfunctional. Disabled. Crippled. Dreams seemed to have been missed or passed by thus far. The wife has had to work. And as they say at the TNT section of this website, it isn't enough to know what the causes are. I now have the choice to do something about this "Dragon" as Churchill referred to it in his own life. Freewill.
People, I am on a journey. A pilgrimage. Life is hard. God is good. Tears are liquid prayers. I have obviously refrained, for the most part, to practically even mention my marriage on these boards, for personal reasons. But at the moment, I am separated from my wife and children. That is one of my biggest fears (am I playing the same scenario out that my parents played). This is why I have asked for prayer for the month of March. I have some legal matters coming up of which people at Christus Victor Ministries know about. They have been soooo supportive and encouraging. They have been praying for me. Clark Pinnock, in “Flame of Love,” has said something about pain or suffering being something that we will have to go through, because, Christ Himself went through it. Will we suffer any less? Although I don’t see my depression and panic attacks as suffering but as a sickness? My depression and panic attacks, my sickness, has caused a certain amount of suffering in my life. Some of it is needful. Some of it is needless. I really believe that God wants to heal me of this sickness, especially because it has disabled me many times in my life. And when you are disabled, you are ineffectual for the Kingdom of God. That’s where Satan wants you. And I am not gonna go there. Not gonna do it. So, as I have asked others who know of my situation here at these boards to pray for me, I ask you who don’t know me to pray for me as well. Thanks and God Bless.
Wherefore take up the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and, having done all, to stand. Eph 6:13
Brandon
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