Why I Don’t Want You To Read This Post

After reading this through before pasting into my blog, I almost wasn’t going to post this entry. But then I realized that this is an excellent opportunity to display my own flaws and weaknesses because some of my posts may seem “preachy” (and I’m barely even qualified to give my own self advice, let alone any of you), but I’ll leave this up to you to read or not. It’s a very raw look into my life which I often keep hidden behind a mask. I apologize in advance there is no real scripture in today’s post. Some days The Holy Spirit just knows what we need even if we don’t actively seek it that day.

It’s been a hard fought day. It isn’t some strange phenomena for tears to fall from my eyelids, but it is out of the ordinary when they’re a result of loneliness. Given how I feel about living alone and being in a quiet atmosphere, you should be asking, “Chuck, how can you cry about being lonely when you enjoy being alone so much?” The short answer to that is, there are stark differences between the act of being alone and the object of loneliness.

On the same side of the coin, one could hypothesize I brought this all on myself. And while you’d be correct, it was not a feat won all by it’s lonesome. I speak often about how it feels to be autistic, and while that’s such a huge part of my life (especially as I get older and older), it isn’t the single most thing which causes me so much affliction. I don’t talk about bipolar disorder too much because for the majority of my adult life, I have denied it. Sure, there have always been the problems presenting themselves in the fashion which wreak havoc (sometimes more than autism) in my personal life. But I hate to admit it due to the stigmatic effects it has in society today. I’d be closer to the truth if only I just offered this window of transparency to my readers. And after today, I feel it’s the perfect opportunity to come clean with how it makes me feel. And while surely it is not all of the baggage I carry in my mind–for there are other things which make me a large part of the broken world which you are cut from similar effects–today I’ll focus purely on the mental health aspect. That’s a big enough pill to swallow. Which that in and of itself is an oxymoron for the world of Chuck Franklin, because I haven’t taken a single mood stabilizer or antidepressant since just before Christmas of 2017.

Before I begin, let me address what bipolar disorder and mental illness is not.

• It is not God given.
• It is not learned behavior.
• It is not ‘just an excuse’ for acting irrationally.
• It is not fun.

You might think that list of four things should be self explanatory… an inherent production of common sense. Then there’s the first one. No, I don’t believe in a God who harms His children.

While we were created in His image, I choose to believe that mental illness is brought on by the fall of man which dates back to Adam & Eve. I believe that we have certain differences which are a result of the flawed world that we trample.

It’s caused by genetics and the consequence of environmental impacts and since it’s just like any other DNA trait as is human brilliance or red hair, God uses it as a tool. Nowadays, I choose to think Mental Health is nothing more than a circumstance which God decides to use under His supervision to bring us closer to Him and to measure when our issues can be put to some greater positive use of helping or relating with others.

Bipolar disorder or any other mental illness (note, you will never see or hear me label autism as a disease) is not learned behavior. While we certainly are exposed to it on a daily basis whether we realize it or not, I keep the hope in the fact that my brothers and sisters in Christ don’t use it as an excuse for our occasional bad behavior. I’d also think that neither of us would (in our right minds) choose to act out in anger or agitation. Unfortunately though, since we are so not perfect, it happens. Some are better at identifying their feelings or emotions and can assess better than others and cool down before heating up. But sometimes, we’re all just bound to ‘snap’ and it just ‘is what it is’ every once in a while.

I also hate to break this to anyone who thinks this (and you’d be surprised how many people I’ve heard say this) that bipolar is fun. I’m sorry, but I don’t find joy in spending night after night after night awake researching new subjects or exploring my creativity through paper crafting, or writing, or spending long nights watching movies and taking two hot showers sometimes in an eight hour period just because my brain won’t shut off and let me sleep like the rest of the world. I find joy in those interests most during the light of day. And, I don’t find pleasure in starting new projects or interests on the flip of a dime. But it happens so much with me, I cannot count on one hand how many times I’ve switched interests. On Monday, I can decide that I’m going to take up baking, so the next day or (instantly, as in the pleasures of online shopping) I venture on a spending spree to get new pans and utensils which are necessary to baking. By Friday, I’d have lost complete interest in baking when I meet the demise of my horrible talent at fixing something that another person would dare identify as edible. And in those days in between, I can shockingly survive with two or three short naps the entire week.

The sporadic and messianic zeal of conquering a brand new concept or hobby one minute, then losing interest in whatever half brained idea I’d dreamed up the next, clashes directly with my autistic disdain for change and crave for routine based living.

During these periods of pure mania, I’m generally at the peak of my elated self. I’m so confident and happier than a dog basking in the sun, then usually after an entire day of headaches and throwing my fists in thin air (which typically occur after a week or two from when the mania starts), I plunge straight into the depths of my already sinking mattress. It’s days like this which my mind becomes haunted by the consequences of my behavior. Shame and guilt elude my every thought and I feel the sting of loneliness. It’s in those transitions of rage and anger which I’ve pushed away family members and friends. Now don’t get me wrong, I have arrived at the acceptance that God has cleaned out my inner circle of friends for great reason. However, I am to blame for some of the relational woes and it’s days like this when I shake my head at how unfair mental illness is.

You probably find yourself thinking that I could just try medication again. I should attend rigorous therapy. I should interact with others in person more. And for a typical person, all those could be great suggestions. But like I mentioned above, my mental illness battles the faulty brain wiring and I have a real-life cartoon of the devil on one side of my head and an angelic entity on the other. Medication hasn’t worked in the past, and trust me when I say this, eight years ago when I found out I was both autistic and bipolar, I’d began the entire circuit of medications. They just don’t work for some people. And since moving back to Colorado, I’ve yet to find a suitable therapy provider who truly understands the full scope of my mental health needs without judgment and preconceived bias. Grand Junction leaves much to be desired in a clinical perspective. Much like our doctors here, Western Colorado is full of therapists/psychiatrists and barely any of them measure up to the brilliance which I’d once had in Indiana. They just don’t get it.

So as I lay here, bereft of real gumption to get up and do anything productive, I revert back to my first paragraph. Some days just have me crying tears of regret and loneliness. It’s in these moments which I can’t escape the confines of hell which satan has placed me in, because even if I did have a spouse in my life to bring the physical comfort God wants for me, I’m sure I’d find some way of pushing them away too.

How We Can Have Our Cake (and just maybe) Eat it Too

In the airy words of a favorite musician-turned-broadway genius, Sara Bareilles: “Sugar… butter… flour!” (see; Waitress the Musical)

I’m far from a culinary expert. As a matter of fact, I barely know how to make a decent pot of spaghetti. But what I do know for sure, is that ingredients all serve a special purpose, especially in baking. After taking some time to research a basic cake recipe from scratch–you know the concept of not just zipping open a box and pouring in water and an egg–I have developed a metaphorically aesthetic way of grasping our faith in God’s timing. If I’m being honest, we’re really just a bunch of needy kids who complain and moan. At least if I were on the outside looking in, I wouldn’t want to come in and visit based on what I see through the window. I get impatient, I throw things sometimes, and I get way too overwhelmed when presented with a considerable dose of adversity. If I owned a diner, I wouldn’t even want to be my own patron.

Life is very much like a cake. There are fundamental ingredients which comprise a basic cake. Miss one ingredient or use too little/too much and we have a major problem on our hands. A few of these can be substituted or left out, but in doing so, it alters the outcome of what was going to be a very tasty treat. Much with life, if we throw caution to the wind, our expected outcomes sometimes don’t come out so dandy.

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:14 NIV)

This is definitely the case for my entire past week. I didn’t hear back from the job interview I had for a Marketing Assistant position which I basically bargained with God that if He’d just give me that opportunity on a platter, I’d serve him gratitude every minute of every day. But it just doesn’t work that way does it? After dealing with the upset inside me for I didn’t get what I wanted, I could see some light at the end of the tunnel through a different opportunity. This one being a seasonal part-time position for the fourth quarter of a local brand which has cultivated an entire legacy through their product over the course of sixty years.

When I saw the job listing, I immediately got excited. Why, I honestly am not sure. Especially since I’d thought my abilities to interact with people in any capacity had once dried up as my autism keeps me in the confines of my own four walls most days of each week. But I figured, I’d give it a shot because who knows if God needed a couple months segue into a more permanent opportunity?

Just when I thought I was about to have my disability application submitted a second time, I find myself on the tip of this white picket fence God has my fat butt sitting on.

But I digress, this was a good opportunity to dip my toes back in the waters of customer service based employment. And since I am autistic and very bipolar, I go with gusto and set my sights straight for what I want. I jumped through the hoops and played the job-seeker game of expressing interest in this position with Human Resources. I also went as far as mentioning my previous business rapport with their company when I organized a silent auction in my previous pharmacy administrator role a few years ago. Then the day came I received a phone interview. It went splendidly. She forwarded her recommendation to the supervisor who oversees the operations of that department, and by the end of that day I’d received an email with a link to take a skills test before I could advance to an in-person interview. I originally thought this all to be quite odd for a job with a finite duration of employment. Yet I remained humble, knowing this was probably what God had originally planned as a stepping stone to getting back into the workforce again.

This test was many adjectives, yet none are pleasant. Halfway through it, I found myself losing patience and faith in myself to even finish it. I started laughing at the thoughts which kept creeping into my mind. “I’m so ready to quit this job I haven’t even been offered yet.” Then another hour passes by and I found myself growing even more agitated with the online test. Whether it was my slow home internet connection causing some of the frustration, I’m sure that has a lot to do with it. The other part was how antiquated it was. Do companies really still use the original version of Microsoft Office from twenty years ago? And you can bet your bottom dollar I was getting so hot and bothered, where if that annoying icon “Clippy” would have popped up at any moment, I was bound to chuck my laptop mouse against the wall.

After enduring persevering all that I could, two hours pass by and I’m finally on the last section of the test. The most difficult section of them all and it was related to a similar scenario which the job would have been closely identified to on each interaction. Since I don’t tolerate inanimate noises and get overwhelmed easily, this section was all of that. But I didn’t factor in that this test was antiquated and the real environment might not be so dated and clunky. By the fourth question of the last section, I’d completely lost my wits and gave up. In the fields where details of the fictional scenario was to go, I’d typed in my protest to such a disturbing and aggravating test and to have anyone go through such torture for just a seasonal job, then they could just forget considering me for the position. I’d even used a couple swear words in my act of rebellion. By that point, I was done. But I wasn’t done. I was so far from done. I stewed about it the rest of the evening. And to the point I held my refrigerator door open to retrieve my salad materials and let all the cold escape for several minutes while I spewed a cloud of tears into the fold of my elbow. I’d failed myself and my own expectations.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” Proverbs 17:22 NIV

The next day arrives and that afternoon, I receive an email asking if I would like to come down for a face-to-face interview. To say I was shocked at having been contacted further from them is a major understatement. But this was God’s way of saying “Hey buckaroo, this fight ain’t over yet. I planned this for you and you’re gonna see it through.” So like any good child to their parent, I fulfilled this interview and saw it through. When I arrive in person, she informs me that I needed to complete the test, which had came back as “incomplete” because the last section said I had a “zero.” Pretty sure, in fact, I’m more than absolutely certain this was divine intervention. The test didn’t save my haughty and frustrated words. She advised me that I could take the last section upstairs before completing the interview. Believe you-me, asking God moments before submitting myself to a repeated horror definitely took the cake. I found it easier than when I’d taken it at home, and even more so enjoyable. The interview commences, and not but two hours pass when I receive the job offer through email.

Much like the recipe to a cake, this had so many elements and each one of us are so very quick to insist on “microwaving” our outcomes without taking things one step at a time. You see, flour is the quintessential element to any baked good, and without it, there is no substance to the pastry. Flour can be seen as our faith in God knowing what’s best. Then you have eggs, which serve as the sealant to our faith. Eggs help trap in the air and lock it in so it cannot escape and nothing can invade the body of the rising batter. Sadly, I forgot to use eggs in my recipe for this employment venture which allowed satan to come swooping in with a fiery pitchfork to whisper the lies of failure and knocking my self confidence down to a stub.

Without baking powder, a cake loses its ability to rise, resulting in a much denser/flatter slab of crud. Sugar is the sweet stuff. It’s probably one of the most enjoyable components to any pastry and it leaves us craving for the golden brown crust and color– surely we can see this element as a measure of persistence. For if we give up, then we lose out on the goods. Butter helps cultivate the flavor of all the elements in a cake, leaving it to allow a cake to moisten. And lastly but not least, the milk used in cake is a great example of God’s love. Milk is what makes the pastry truly tender. If we don’t let Him simply love us, then all we are is just a really dry bi-product of self reliance and disappointment. With the caution of moderation and the right balance of ingredients, we can all have our cake–and eat it too.

So you see, my friends, our lives are practically no different than baked goods. What are you needing to measure accurately and accordingly, so that you can let God’s timeline push you gently down the path? And if there’s one definite lesson I have learned from this is–while I might have been given a second chance purely by the grace of God, I should not attempt to burn a bridge before even having an opportunity to cross it.

Prayer:

God Almighty, I would like to thank you for the blessings you have brought me and my friends. We applaud your great efforts and incredible wisdom–even when we aren’t measuring out the necessary elements to let your cake turn out in your glory. Be with each of us as we begin the new week full of renewed mind and spirit, so that we may serve you in the ways you’ve called us to do. Glory be your name, Amen!

How a Shoddy Weather App Helped Me Listen to God’s Plan

It’s a brand new week and what an amazing journey the past couple of weeks have been for me. As you’ve read through my blog upon my return to faith writing–turning my personal thoughts and experiences into relatable moments for you–I can honestly say with a very happy heart I know what I’m being called to do by God. And you know what? It’s something I have done much of already, but not quite on the level He wants. In fact, I asked him to speak to me as I took another piping hot shower, “God please tell me what you’re calling me to do.” To which he responded:

“You’ve already begun your calling. You just backslid for some time, but I have you back on the right path.” 

Well if you were to ask me a couple weeks ago, what I thought my calling was, I’d have given you a blank stare. My shoulders would be in a tight shrug while the crickets chirped awkwardly. Then as I attended an Equip class at my church called “Recognizing Your Spiritual Calling,” I started to pick up on some ideas… but it wasn’t until the final three minutes of class when I had been given a clue. It wasn’t just because the room was quiet as Pastor Paul had us participate in this exercise. It was ultimately because I opened my mind and my heart to truly listen to God. I’d been listening to God for the past couple weeks, pretty much every waking minute. But through it all… some direction. Paul told us to write down what we heard pop into our minds. It wasn’t a whisper, rather just implicitly clear. 

“I want you to turn your voice into something for the betterment of society.” 

As class let out, I prepared to make my trek home. I slipped in my earphones and stepped outside to find that my weather app lied big time. I’m starting to think we ought to give more grace to TV weathermen everywhere because they rely on this same technology and its accuracy leaves much to be desired. Of course I was walking home in a heavier downpour than when I first entered the building a couple hours earlier, but the app said it was going to have stopped raining by the time class let out. I told God, “You know what? Keep it coming down. I’m no stranger to water. You know this!” In fact, water is the one element I seem to connect with God best in. 

On my walk home, I started getting these ideas and trying to think of the keyword The Almighty instilled into my head not but minutes earlier. Voice. No, I’m a horrible singer no matter how much I love to sing and dance alone in the house. Voice. What on His green earth did he mean? Certainly it had nothing to do with my voice in an audible medium because my voice is meek and tiny. I’m Autistic and try as I might, not many people really listen to what I have to tell them when I speak up. Surely it has something to do with my missing tooth which turns my smile into that of a Jack-O-Lantern at Halloween. 

No, no, no. That’s not what He was getting at. He meant turning my voice into something for the betterment of society. Of course. I got it! I had enough courage to speak up in the class in front of practically thirty other people to ask “Does God put a person through years of struggling in order to teach them some sort of lesson?” To which he replied of the like, “God doesn’t purposely put anyone through torment via abuse, He doesn’t cause wars, He wants the opposite of conflict all around. But He is definitely known for using someone’s struggling experiences to help the world for the greater good of serving Him.” 

Okay, okay, okay. I got it now, I thought as I reached 5th and Main Street. Little Voice… I have a little voice and He wants me to raise it for some greater good. He wants me to take the past three years of hurt and exhausting struggle to HELP others. How could I start something like that? I wondered. If there is something I can say that I think I am good at, it’s writing. Writing is a voice. So, that was a start, but more or less, I needed to connect the keypoints of how God uses us to deliver our “Calling.” 

I have several years of pharmacy experience, and I am good at the written word. I have an easier time helping make blog posts relatable so others can find something to resonate with which may help them through their personal struggles. But how would a measly blog help serve others? It doesn’t. But perhaps a book is. A book which could be accessible in libraries and church bookstores telling my story of a very large road of depression and how turning to Jesus can be that leap someone needs to help cure their depression. And if they can’t afford it, perhaps that it also be available in non-profit organizations and clinics so anyone socioeconomic class can have access to such material. 

So it’s a book. That’s a good start to identifying my steps toward meeting God’s plan for my life as a christian. Yes, there are lists of books which serve the same purpose. But everyone has a different story, and what may not resonate with Jane, might resonate with Jack. Perhaps Jack is also an adult on the Autism spectrum and finds parallels with my story of fighting the enemy in a multi-year battle of depression and three suicide attempts, just to name a couple of key points. Though, my battle goes deeper than just being a bipolar autistic guy with a history of suicide. 

And this, my friends, is just the first step of God’s plan for my life. But I couldn’t think of any better idea and I can’t help but only take partial credit for this idea because it’s many thanks to the guidance of our great Father for helping me chart this first stepping stone to my spiritual calling.  Ohhhh and just as I went to schedule this post, my radio started playing the song ‘Let It Rain (Is There Anybody)’ by Crowder and Mandisa. If that’s not divine confirmation, I don’t know what is!!