Growing up, I had a relatively normal childhood. I grew up in the church and I remember committing my life to Jesus when I was just five years old. My school years were fun, and in high school I enjoyed being on the wrestling team.
In the fall of 1991, I started attending a local Christian university. But by the spring of 1992, things rapidly deteriorated in my life. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, struggled with hallucinations (both visual and auditory), and I was troubled with delusions. These are classic symptoms of the disease.
I still remember my first psychotic break. Over a full week, my mind became increasingly filled with irrational beliefs — both paranoid and grandiose. I began to see and hear things that weren’t real, but they sure felt real to me. My illness came to a pinnacle where I felt that if I killed myself, God would somehow be glorified. My plan was simple: I’d use my dad’s gun underneath his mattress to end my life.
By God’s grace, my wrestling buddies intercepted me as I was headed to carry out my plan. A struggle ensued, but…Continue Reading