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Mental illness / abuse overcoming movie idea

Discussion in 'Scripts/ Screenplays' started by hutch1cor1013, Dec 6, 2015.

  1. hutch1cor1013

    hutch1cor1013 Newbie

    I am looking for someone to depict my overcoming mental illness and abuse story in a written screenplay. I would like the movie to be based on my memoirs, and is faith-based.

    I strongly believe my faith-based story can help a lot of people, so I am looking for someone to help me in this project. Anyone interested in finding more information about this project, can e-mail me at [email protected]. This project is not for pay; however, I strongly believe this movie idea could lead much income for you down the road. What I am offering is a great inspirational story idea which you can screen write - I would be willing to give you full rights to the gains of the movie - I just want a DVD of the film and the opportunity for that movie to change the lives of its viewers.
    We teamed up with Faith Counseling. Can they help you today?
  2. SBSchristianmedia

    SBSchristianmedia New Member

    Praise the Lord for the light he has brought to your life! Thank you for your heart and courage to share your testimony. Would you mind briefly sharing your story on this forum?
  3. hutch1cor1013

    hutch1cor1013 Newbie

    My life began as my seventeen-year old father got my sixteen-year old mother pregnant out of wedlock. The two secretly had intercourse sometime after my mom’s parents gave my teenage dad a place to stay in their home, sometime after my father’s parents kicked their kid out of their home, presumably for some sort of misbehaving. My uncle (mom’s brother) told me that there was talk by my grandparents (my mom’s parents) of my mother having an abortion. Obviously, it didn’t happen as my mom and dad got married and became my parents.

    My parents remained married until they divorced when I was two years old. Back then my dad was a very violent man who did and sold cocaine. Thus, my mom and I were in constant danger. I was told that one day my dad tried to kill my mother my putting a gun to her head. Obviously, he didn’t pull the trigger. Things got so bad that my mother one day secretly moved me and her to another state to hide us from him. Although mom and dad separated – again when I was two – experiences like those became the starting point of me being terrified of men and of life.

    My stepfather was also bad to me. He hurt me emotionally by the cruel things he did and said to me. He would play mind games with me. One time he asked me what television program I wanted to watch. He then turned to another channel after I gave him my request. He would wake me up in the morning by throwing cold water on me. He made me eat cereal after he dumped pepper in it. He put ice on my male organs and told me he would hit me if I moved. This caused me to be more obsessive in everything I did around him.

    He seemingly condemned for every mistake I made. I often felt shame, depression, and guilt for what he considered as being my wrongdoings. To avoid future situations like these, I started to focus heavily in everything I did or said as I tried to be perfect around him and all my other abusers in my life. Obsessive-compulsive behaviors started to become present as the fear of future rejection and mistreatment consumed me. I also started to blame and hate myself in response to all my “screw-ups”.

    I started to obsess the way I went to bathroom, took showers, watched TV, how I walked, how and how much I ate and drank, how I thought, to name a few. I did this because I was afraid of making a mistake and being punished and feeling ashamed and guilty. Again, I was becoming more and more afraid of being myself in fear of getting hurt. When I helped him to do work, I was so scared of making a mistake that my mind would race causing problems in focusing and concentrating on what I was doing. Again I would also constantly be evaluating and reevaluating every action I did. His anger of my mistakes scared me, making me more fearful and distrustful of what I did next. Fear of pain soon led me to count the minutes of each day, hoping it would end soon. However, through all of these and other struggles, God never did let go of me. He was there protecting me and giving me the strength and courage that I needed.

    One night, when I was about sixteen, when living with my grandparents, I was again experiencing depression after being rejected by a girl that I asked to go out on a date with. After she said no, my emotions exploded as I began to cry heavily inside. In frustration, I punched a hole in the ceiling of my room. I then slammed the dresser down on the floor. My grandfather heard the noise and came up and tried to settle me down. Unfortunately, he only escalated the situation.

    In order to maintain order, they went to call my stepfather at home for assistance. They did no wrong as they didn’t know then of the abuse. I freaked out and tore the telephone off the wall. A verbal argument escalated. My grandmother came after me with a stick in an attempt to regain order. Unfortunately, she tripped over my foot and fell down on the ground. Her nose started bleeding. After much commotion, I moved to my stepfather’s house that night.

    March 15, 1990 was one of the turning points in my life. This was the day I got kicked out of school when I was in tenth grade. On that day, I impulsively made a sexual comment in an attempt to receive attention from other classmates. The teacher started walking to the principal who was about to call my stepfather for assistance. Fear of getting hurt at home caused me to panic as my thoughts began to race as I approached the female teacher who was walking away from me. I didn’t realize what I was doing as I put my arms around her shoulder in order to stop her from finding the principal. I meant no harm as I wanted to tell her “Don’t tell my stepfather!”. But my racing was racing so much that I was unable to say anything. Meanwhile, the principal saw the situation and separated me from the teacher. He then kicked me out of school for “attempting to choke a teacher”. I then spent a month in a psychiatric hospital – a prerequisite by the school for letting back in school the next year. Again, I felt shame as I was punished for doing something I didn’t mean to do.

    At eighteen, I joined the United States Navy in hopes of becoming a nuclear technician. I decided to do this because I wanted to prove to others and to myself that I could be successful in life by completing the most difficult and most prestigious job in the Navy. I wanted to rid myself of the shame I felt as being viewed as a failure. Unfortunately, I was unsuccessful in my pursuits. People there didn’t understand my unknown disability and viewed me as a screw-up. Again, fear of failure, rejection, and shame caused by obsessions and emotions to go berserk. I put so much pressure on myself to succeed that I started to physically, emotionally, and mentally wear out amidst the pressures of the military. The net result is that I only lasted a month, being unsuccessful to achieve that dream.

    A few months later, I was enrolled into the Navy’s machinist mate school. After many struggles, I initially did well. However, again, the fear of failure and shame put undue stress upon me into an already stressful environment. Again, I experienced many moments of mania and depression. One day, I got so scared and so weak that I sought my petty officer instructor for counsel. When I encountered him, I tried to talk to him as I was leaning my shoulders against the wall. After he reprimanded for doing that, my weary body accidentally did it again. Petty Officer 1st class Davis then charged me for insubordination and sent me to a senior chief for questioning. I told him I didn’t mean to commit the transgression. He then accused me of lying to him as he threatened to send me to captain’s mast for punishment, which is a serious matter for a sailor. I was then chewed out by petty officer 1st class Konkol, who berated me as he told me “that I was worthless and the type to get someone killed.” Shame, pain, frustration, and mania ran wild in me as it reminded me of the previous experiences where I was condemned and rebuked by my past father figures for past wrongdoings. As Konkol finished chewing me out, I felt so much pain that I was about to emotionally explode.

    Once alone, I went to the bathroom to privately release my emotions. Pain led me to say the words “I’m going to kill that person”; frustrations directed toward by previous abusers who rejected me. Unfortunately, an officer who was walking by heard me say those words. As a result, I was charged by the military for “threatening to kill an officer”.

    I left the military free from the law with an honorable discharge after making a deal with the Navy. However, the shame, guilt, and frustration of being again rejected for making a mistake I didn’t intend to commit hurt me considerably. This worsened my obsession of making a mistake a mistake and being condemned for doing so. However, God never did let go of me.

    After the military, I went to the workforce but got fired repeatedly as both my mania and my obsessions of shame and failure overcame me. I went to college in hopes of again finding a prestigious job that would prove my self-worth. Similar to the Navy, my obsessions and unstable moods created much difficulty in my attempts to completing college. Again, it was a constant battle of having the confidence and sheer will to succeed, even when past experiences and an overwhelming disability strongly suggested otherwise.

    Each semester was an enormous struggle, but in the end I made it through college. I would not have done it without the grace and power of God. Initially, students who didn’t understand me made fun of me, while one teacher told me “he didn’t want me to take anymore classes from him”. Another instructor asked the head of the university to have me removed from the college. Life and studying became much more difficult to handle because of this. However, God never did let go of me.

    One night I got so depressed from the struggles of life that I was tempted to kill myself as I was driving home from school. Fortunately, during my contemplation, a song suddenly played on the radio that inspired me. I felt God telling me: “Don’t be afraid. Just trust me.”

    During my senior year, I met a teacher who showed a greater than average interest in me. They saw my struggles in school and realized that something was not right with me. They directed toward the school counselor who led me to see a psychiatrist for help. The doctor later diagnosed me with bipolar disorder.

    The medications the physician gave me was initially ineffective; in fact, it was making me worse. I was getting sick as I struggled to overcome my obsessions of failing and not getting good grades. The teachers who once wanted me out of their presence were soon encouraging me to fight the good fight. Some students began to do the same. They were all supportive of me even though they didn’t really understand what was happening to me.

    Soon the doctor got the medicine regulated properly. My mood and behaviors improved dramatically. I was making and keeping friends much more easily. In December of 1998, I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Business Administration with a 3.48 grade point average. I also made the National Dean’s List twice while attending the university.

    For some time, I based my self-worth upon my performance and in the opinions of others. Today I realize it is solely determined by how God – my Heavenly Father – feels about me. He loves me unconditionally. He is not the “father figure” that used to “condemn”, “reject”, and “abuse” me, but instead the one that “will never leave me or forsake me”. I don’t have to be perfect to receive His love. He loves for who I am. And He does the same for you!

    About four years ago, I went on a camping trip with my mother and stepdad; this endeavor became a catalyst of me overcoming the fear of my stepdad. During the trip, after constant belittling by him, I finally, with God’s strength, took a stand against my demons, as I believed no more “I am no good.”

    Telling my stepdad, “You are wrong! I don’t believe in your lies! I am a good person” , we yelled at each other for a bit; about twenty minutes later, we were in his truck driving home to his house. No one said a word hardly in the vehicle. When we arrive to my parents’ house, my stepdad had a talk with me. He threatened me, saying “If you ever mouth off at me again, I will seriously hurt you.”

    Like a coward, I passively said, “Okay”, as I got in my car and headed home to my apartment. About three miles down the road, reminiscing still over all the times I submissively let him abuse me, I got really angry, and headed back to my stepfather’s house. I didn’t want to start a fight, but I knew it would be inevitable. Driving over 65 mph, I prayed to God for courage and strength as I pulled into his driveway. Still taking his stuff out of his truck, I got out of the car and ran to my stepdad, pointing my finger at him, telling him: “Don’t you dare threatened my, you . . (expletive)”. The next thing I knew we got into a fight, and he punched me in the face, breaking my glasses and giving me a bloody, swollen lip.

    “You (expletive), you put ice on my testicles! Why did you put ice on my testicles, you (expletive)”, I screamed out at my stepdad.

    What he said, in response, totally shocked me: “Maybe this is good that we are having this fight! I’m sorry for all the bad things I did to you! Every day, I regret what I did, and wish I could start all over again, and change things, but I can’t. I’m so sorry!”

    After things settled down, I finally felt like a man as I headed toward home. Since then, me and my stepdad get along real well, as I can tell each time I see him, he is trying to do the right thing. I forgive him for all his wrongdoings. That camping trip became the impetus of emotional healing for me, as well as, personal self-respect. I also gained much more control over my fears and obsessions, as” I am no longer that kid scared of everything!”

    On most days now, the symptoms of my illness seem firmly under control. I hope my story can become an encouragement to all who read this. “Follow the Truth!”