You're not the first to feel you're cursed. Not only do I think I'm cursed. I think my whole family's cursed. My father lost both his parents at 18, was left with a severely retarded, physically disabled brother on his hands. He had to put him away.

8 years later, he has me. I have behaviorial problems, I'm kicked out of school and my parents send me away for 1 and a half years to a psychiatric institution. There is yelling and screaming in that house so bad that I have to emotionally disown my parents.

Then things really get ugly.

From 1983-1986, I have a series of operations that can only be described as horrific. I can't go into detail now, but it was a nightmare and left me with permanent damage and psychological wounds which have yet to be treated. At 21, I have another operation that basically disables me further, forces me to wear a cathethar and will eventually force me to take morphine for constant pain in that part of my body. I'm convinced I would have been better off without the surgery, but my parents talked me into it, then griped at me when things didn't go so well.

After being convinced by a friend that my father was abusive, I walked out on my family and into a life of poverty, depression and total isolation. My parents found out I was leaving the day after my 22nd birthday and rather than wish me a Happy Birthday and wishing me well. They let me have it and they let the friend who was with me have it, because he wasn't the parent of a disabled child. My father nearly got into a fistfight that day...over me. They said to me that my scoliosis would return by the time I was 30, a virtual death sentence in my eyes and then shortly after, they stormed out, leaving me totally alone. Thankfully my friend was there for me.

I spent the next 11 years battling depression, paranoid thoughts and complete isolation. I would go into the hospital, get treated for depression, build up a good system of social supports and then systematically tear them down again, get sick and enter the hospital again. If I hadn't met Doug and joined the Church, that cycle would still be going on. I might have even died, with the way things are going now.

Last November, the constant pain hit and I've been holding constant vigil at the church. Though I have wanted to commit suicide, something always happens to stop me when I ask God for help. At one point, Father Lindsay made me promise not to harm myself and at every point where I have wanted to commit suicide, he convieniently shows up in the street or phones me, especially when nobody knows about my suicidal plans but me.

I may think I'm cursed, but I am blessed and loved by God. The curse is an illusion. I see this now and I think it's the same way for you. You are not cursed, but blessed. Your emotions only make you think you're cursed. Emotions are tricky things.

I received the final proof that I am blessed last night. I wish I could say what it was, but I can't. I know I am blessed now, even though God has no reason to bless me.

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.