I survived my first Christmas away from my family.
Even writing that sentence fills me with amazement. That definitely is not what I had envisioned happening, and certainly not as a single woman. Ah, but therein lies the key; I was not really single this Christmas. As always, my Savior was with me. Also, despite my destitute lack of ability to give gifts, I was able to recieve in abundace with humbleness. I am lucky to live with the friends I do, people who care enough about me to love me despite my depressing, oppositional, and at times completely senseless behavior.
I think that it is hard to see myself as loveable most of the time. I really am quite a needy person. I need to hear that I am loved or missed quite often before I will allow myself to believe what seems to me an impossibility. I have a hard time interpreting actions towards me as signs of love and kindness, and will often interpret them as pity or people merely "putting up with me". If I were to sit and really give it a thought, I would most likely come up with a longer list of people who care for me than I would think possible. I should probably actually do that, as it would also serve to remind me of the need to tell other people that I care about them and miss them, too. I could be an awfully mushy person if I let myself.
Well, if you get an email, facebook message, letter, note, postcard, text, phone call, or some sort of communication from me, feel special. It means that I have stepped out of myself for a moment to actually communicate the feelings I keep inside. I do have quite a few stamps and ample time while recovering from my back being a jerk, plus I am learning how to make fun things with yarn. This could be awesome.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Prayer. Oh, Prayer.
The Bible says to pray without ceasing and to pray with complete faith that your prayer will be answered, but I don't think I'm all that sure about how that goes. I have a really hard time concentrating when I'm praying by myself, especially when I'm alone. Sometimes it's actually better in a crowded room of people, but I feel like either way there's a lot of doubt involved in my praying.
I'm not sure how to really explain my prayer situations, but I'll try to anyway. Picture me sitting in my room, usually on my bed, somtimes sitting on the floor or kneeling. I've at least put my phone on silent and at a distance from me, so I won't pick it up if it happens to move. Sometimes I just shut the sound and vibrate off so that there is nothing to hear. I try to get rid of any books, noise, annoying smells, or images so that I can focus on the task at hand. Sometimes I turn off the lights, sometimes I turn them all on. I then start to talk to God using my head instead of my voice. Then I hear a car go by, or a cat meow, a dog bark, the wind whistle, sirens, someone in the other room, someone in another apartment, doors closing and opening, and absolutely any sound that can possibly be heard by the human ear. That's when my mind starts to follow these sounds and drifts off into bunny trails of thought while I'm "talking" to God.
Now, if I can catch myself quick enough, I will usually try to pray out loud, but I end up tripping on my words and feeling like God and I are having a really weird coffee date, especially if I'm in my pajamas laying in bed. The prayer usually ends shortly after I open my mouth, thus ending my tries at praying without ceasing.
It's always been nice at church when the pastor gives the congregation that time for...I can't remember the specific wording...I guess it would be "silent contemplation and prayer". I love these times. I feel like I can just pray away in my head, and even if I hear the annoying noises or smell the annoying smells, I just make them a part of my prayer. However, if you've ever been to church and the pastor has given this time, you know that it lasts less than 5 minutes; this short of a time span has never been adequate for me to finish searching my soul to contemplate and pray. I usually end with a quick. "We'll pick this up later. Love you," before re-joining everyone in a group prayer.
Above all of this is the doubt. Somtimes while I am praying, and almost always after I am finished, I am immediately swarmed with doubt. Did I ask for the right thing? Did I ask enough? Did I ask too much? Was I trying to inforce my own will upon God? Should I ask for that? Did I say thanks enough? Maybe I should have said thank you for more things that I asked for? This is really just scratching the surface of the self questioning that happens, and it seems to be the complete opposite of what the bible calls for. I think what I want would feel a lot like this looks:
I'm not sure how to really explain my prayer situations, but I'll try to anyway. Picture me sitting in my room, usually on my bed, somtimes sitting on the floor or kneeling. I've at least put my phone on silent and at a distance from me, so I won't pick it up if it happens to move. Sometimes I just shut the sound and vibrate off so that there is nothing to hear. I try to get rid of any books, noise, annoying smells, or images so that I can focus on the task at hand. Sometimes I turn off the lights, sometimes I turn them all on. I then start to talk to God using my head instead of my voice. Then I hear a car go by, or a cat meow, a dog bark, the wind whistle, sirens, someone in the other room, someone in another apartment, doors closing and opening, and absolutely any sound that can possibly be heard by the human ear. That's when my mind starts to follow these sounds and drifts off into bunny trails of thought while I'm "talking" to God.
Now, if I can catch myself quick enough, I will usually try to pray out loud, but I end up tripping on my words and feeling like God and I are having a really weird coffee date, especially if I'm in my pajamas laying in bed. The prayer usually ends shortly after I open my mouth, thus ending my tries at praying without ceasing.
It's always been nice at church when the pastor gives the congregation that time for...I can't remember the specific wording...I guess it would be "silent contemplation and prayer". I love these times. I feel like I can just pray away in my head, and even if I hear the annoying noises or smell the annoying smells, I just make them a part of my prayer. However, if you've ever been to church and the pastor has given this time, you know that it lasts less than 5 minutes; this short of a time span has never been adequate for me to finish searching my soul to contemplate and pray. I usually end with a quick. "We'll pick this up later. Love you," before re-joining everyone in a group prayer.
Above all of this is the doubt. Somtimes while I am praying, and almost always after I am finished, I am immediately swarmed with doubt. Did I ask for the right thing? Did I ask enough? Did I ask too much? Was I trying to inforce my own will upon God? Should I ask for that? Did I say thanks enough? Maybe I should have said thank you for more things that I asked for? This is really just scratching the surface of the self questioning that happens, and it seems to be the complete opposite of what the bible calls for. I think what I want would feel a lot like this looks:
So if you read this, and you have any advice whatsoever on the topic, I beg of you to comment. If you know me, send me a message. Anything. Oh, and if you happen to know if there's any way of being sure that you are hearing God and not your own personal desires, that would be super cool. I seem to have forgotten things I thought I knew.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sometimes Going Forward Requires Taking a Step Back
If I have any wisdom to dispense to anyone, it is the following:
1. Pretending to be happy is absolutely exhausting. If you aren't happy, don't try to fake it, things will only get hurt. Rather, you need to be honest about what you are feeling and search everywhere you can for someone who is willing and able to listen to you and/or help you.
2. If you are depressed - so depressed that you can't get out of bed and do the simplest acts, like bathing yourself - don't think it can't get any worse. It can. I would recommend reminding yourself that it can get worse. Don't imaging specific scenarios or tell yourself that there are other people out there who have it worse off than you; that will get you to obsess about the negative possibilities or feel tremendous guilt over not being involved in social justice issues. Those things don't matter. Getting out of bed matters. Why? Because it can get worse, and it will if you stay in bed.
3. If you have hit that moment where killing yourself sounds like the best idea possible, when you are even imagining killing yourself just to stay calm, dont' actually try to kill yourself. I really want this one to be clear; it ties in with #2 up there. If you try to kill yourself and do not succeed (and lets face it, you're depressed to the point of irrational thinking, so your chances of success in this venture are actually quite lower than you realize) you will find that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined.
You see, the people you already alienated by listening to the negative voice in your head saying, "No one likes me. Poor me," actually do like you, or at least did when you weren't stewing in your own mental anguish, and they're going to be pretty pissed off that you tried to kill yourself. I know this seems far fetched, but they will be hurt and angry with you. The real downside of this is that you are going to need your family and friends more than you ever have before, because you have fallen off a pretty high cliff and are now trying to find a foothold in roaring rapids. There is no way you will get better by yourself, but you are going to have to grip a wet and slippery rock so you can drag your sorry ass out of the water long enough to wave for help with a white flag of surrender. In order to get the help you need, you are going to have to find some way to show people that you want to live and that you have a sincere wish to change. Then you are going to have to wait for them to believe it.
Why am I sharing all of this? Because I'm still dealing with the fallout of trying to kill myself (obviously I was depressed to the point of irrational thinking, so by chances of success in that venture were actually quite lower than I realized, and I failed). I went to the hospital, made choices based on emotions and what I thought other people wanted me to do, and moved away from my support system (which I had, they were just burnt out and tired). Not only that, I then proceeded to dump the entirety of my crazy onto just two people...which is not a kind thing to do. After trying to be happy in just about every wrong way, I see that I need my friends and family like never before.
So now I seem to have come almost full circle. I can't really do much because my physical health has deteriorated (thanks for slipping again, discs in my back - and also to you fibromyalgia for being the worst you ever have been) and I am so very lonely. All I can think of are hugs from my family, going to church with my sisters, and drinking some Bud Light amongst the best group I ever worked with. I'm coming home, but I don't know when. I still don't have money, and I don't necessarily have a place to live once I get home, yet that would seem to be the place I need to be. Hopefully I can figure this one out soon, and also stop crying every day so I can be a bit more productive.
Oh, and:
4. If your dad has doubts about a life altering decision you are making, listen to him. Good dads are right 99.9999999999999999% of the time, but they can't always swoop in and save you if you make the wrong choice.
1. Pretending to be happy is absolutely exhausting. If you aren't happy, don't try to fake it, things will only get hurt. Rather, you need to be honest about what you are feeling and search everywhere you can for someone who is willing and able to listen to you and/or help you.
2. If you are depressed - so depressed that you can't get out of bed and do the simplest acts, like bathing yourself - don't think it can't get any worse. It can. I would recommend reminding yourself that it can get worse. Don't imaging specific scenarios or tell yourself that there are other people out there who have it worse off than you; that will get you to obsess about the negative possibilities or feel tremendous guilt over not being involved in social justice issues. Those things don't matter. Getting out of bed matters. Why? Because it can get worse, and it will if you stay in bed.
3. If you have hit that moment where killing yourself sounds like the best idea possible, when you are even imagining killing yourself just to stay calm, dont' actually try to kill yourself. I really want this one to be clear; it ties in with #2 up there. If you try to kill yourself and do not succeed (and lets face it, you're depressed to the point of irrational thinking, so your chances of success in this venture are actually quite lower than you realize) you will find that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined.
You see, the people you already alienated by listening to the negative voice in your head saying, "No one likes me. Poor me," actually do like you, or at least did when you weren't stewing in your own mental anguish, and they're going to be pretty pissed off that you tried to kill yourself. I know this seems far fetched, but they will be hurt and angry with you. The real downside of this is that you are going to need your family and friends more than you ever have before, because you have fallen off a pretty high cliff and are now trying to find a foothold in roaring rapids. There is no way you will get better by yourself, but you are going to have to grip a wet and slippery rock so you can drag your sorry ass out of the water long enough to wave for help with a white flag of surrender. In order to get the help you need, you are going to have to find some way to show people that you want to live and that you have a sincere wish to change. Then you are going to have to wait for them to believe it.
Why am I sharing all of this? Because I'm still dealing with the fallout of trying to kill myself (obviously I was depressed to the point of irrational thinking, so by chances of success in that venture were actually quite lower than I realized, and I failed). I went to the hospital, made choices based on emotions and what I thought other people wanted me to do, and moved away from my support system (which I had, they were just burnt out and tired). Not only that, I then proceeded to dump the entirety of my crazy onto just two people...which is not a kind thing to do. After trying to be happy in just about every wrong way, I see that I need my friends and family like never before.
So now I seem to have come almost full circle. I can't really do much because my physical health has deteriorated (thanks for slipping again, discs in my back - and also to you fibromyalgia for being the worst you ever have been) and I am so very lonely. All I can think of are hugs from my family, going to church with my sisters, and drinking some Bud Light amongst the best group I ever worked with. I'm coming home, but I don't know when. I still don't have money, and I don't necessarily have a place to live once I get home, yet that would seem to be the place I need to be. Hopefully I can figure this one out soon, and also stop crying every day so I can be a bit more productive.
Oh, and:
4. If your dad has doubts about a life altering decision you are making, listen to him. Good dads are right 99.9999999999999999% of the time, but they can't always swoop in and save you if you make the wrong choice.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
A Change of Self
I have changed. I thought about going to the last blog post I made, back in the last week of August, so that I could see just how much I had changed, but I decided to get on with writing instead.
It is interesting to note what I see as changes in myself. I can't say that I am happy with each change. I did not expect myself to change in certain ways, and it comes as a surprise to me that I have let things slip through my charachter or personality the way that I have.
I'm not talking as much. Don't get me wrong on this one; I wasn't talking that much when I was back in Nebraska, and I spent most of my time alone watching television. What's different is that I am not talking when I get the chance to talk. I feel that I used to be a bit more free with my words, even if that wasn't always a good thing. Now it seems that I am afraid to speak. I have gone from being a woman who shares her mind and emotions, to a woman who spends her time thinking over how to react appropriately to the emotions of others. I don't believe it's bad to think of the emotions of others, but it has become a single preoccupation of mine. Every look, silence, word, action is heavy with meaning - and it all seems to mean that I have done something inappropriate, hurt someone, or inconvenienced someone. I didn't care quite as much about that before; I was a sort of dominating presence that influenced her needs and wants onto the people around her. I am now dominated far more frequently.
I have also hidden away a part of myself. My spirituality and religion is now at the quietest point it has been since my teen years. It isn't as if I do not acknowledge this part of myself, but that I worry over offending someone else by expressing this part of myself. Most times I find it irritating and the rest of the time I feel highly disappointed in myself. I have to get this back.
I wish there was a way to lay the blame for this on something tangible and present, but it seems to come from the absence of things. Without my family, I no longer feel strong in my identity as a leader; I am no longer the eldest, but the newest. Without a church family I feel adrift and uncertain, lost in a sea of emotion that threatens to make me forget the things I am rationally and logically sure of. Without a community of friends I feel lonely. Without a best friend I feel incomplete.
I suppose that I will need to find out how I will define myself when set apart from all that is familiar and comfortable. Therapy starts next week. Let the ride begin again.
It is interesting to note what I see as changes in myself. I can't say that I am happy with each change. I did not expect myself to change in certain ways, and it comes as a surprise to me that I have let things slip through my charachter or personality the way that I have.
I'm not talking as much. Don't get me wrong on this one; I wasn't talking that much when I was back in Nebraska, and I spent most of my time alone watching television. What's different is that I am not talking when I get the chance to talk. I feel that I used to be a bit more free with my words, even if that wasn't always a good thing. Now it seems that I am afraid to speak. I have gone from being a woman who shares her mind and emotions, to a woman who spends her time thinking over how to react appropriately to the emotions of others. I don't believe it's bad to think of the emotions of others, but it has become a single preoccupation of mine. Every look, silence, word, action is heavy with meaning - and it all seems to mean that I have done something inappropriate, hurt someone, or inconvenienced someone. I didn't care quite as much about that before; I was a sort of dominating presence that influenced her needs and wants onto the people around her. I am now dominated far more frequently.
I have also hidden away a part of myself. My spirituality and religion is now at the quietest point it has been since my teen years. It isn't as if I do not acknowledge this part of myself, but that I worry over offending someone else by expressing this part of myself. Most times I find it irritating and the rest of the time I feel highly disappointed in myself. I have to get this back.
I wish there was a way to lay the blame for this on something tangible and present, but it seems to come from the absence of things. Without my family, I no longer feel strong in my identity as a leader; I am no longer the eldest, but the newest. Without a church family I feel adrift and uncertain, lost in a sea of emotion that threatens to make me forget the things I am rationally and logically sure of. Without a community of friends I feel lonely. Without a best friend I feel incomplete.
I suppose that I will need to find out how I will define myself when set apart from all that is familiar and comfortable. Therapy starts next week. Let the ride begin again.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Jumping off cliffs is good for the soul.
"And this is how I choose to live, as if I'm jumping off a cliff
Knowing that You'll save me, knowing that you'll save me
And after all the stupid things I did, there's nothing left there to forgive
Because You already forgave me, yeah You already forgave me"
That right there is a line from the Relient K song "Death and Taxes." I love Relient K. It seems that one of their albums fits right in with my life at any given time. They get me.
I was thinking about fearlessness today. There is a good reason for this; I went head to head with about a trillion spiders to clean the basement at my Grandmother's house. Now I am by no means afraid of spiders - while living with my mom and younger sisters as a teenager I was the designated killer of anything creepy crawly - but by the time I had vacuumed up my billionth egg sack, I was getting a little paranoid that some huge mama spider was going to magically appear and bite my head off. Yet, I persevered, and my Grandma's basement looks as homey and inviting as it did when I was little.
It's the little victories like the one above that are keeping me going right now. I stand prepared to take a huge leap of faith in my life, and so far my courage hasn't failed me. So far.
I think the hardest thing about leaving will be the separation from my dad and youngest sister. My dad commented on Sunday, in a quiet and sullen way, "I don't want you to go." Talk about having your heart wrenched out and poked with tiny sticks. Dad doesn't share how he's feeling often, but apparently he has even been telling my Grandma that he's already starting to miss me. I can tell that he's trying to stay strong for me, which only makes me love him more. It means a lot that my father is willing to help me do something good for myself at the expense of his own comfort.
My little sister is showing her love in a different way. She clings to me when we are with each other, and demands several hugs before I am allowed to leave her presence. She doesn't want me to leave - unless I take her with me. Someday she'll know that it was primarily for fear of missing out on huge chunks of her growing up that I have stayed here as long as I have. I don't know what it's like to leave a child, but I imagine my feelings about leaving her are very near to the feeling of having to leave one's own child behind.
Despite all of this, I know that I am on the right path. Leaving now is what I need to do in order to restore my sanity, regrow the piece of my heart that was torn away over the past couple of years, and get back to what I know I can be. When I was in the hospital, everyone said it was time to "be selfish" and take care of myself instead of trying to fix/control those around me. Good advice, but hard for someone who looks at selfishness as if it is the worst sin a human could commit. This would be where the fearlessness comes in. In trying something new and different from the way I've always done it, I am throwing caution to the wind and saying that I can forge ahead into the great unknown. There is no room for fear where I am headed; in fact if fear pops up it's ugly head in my way, I'll kill it with the knowledge that I have a safety net. His name is Jesus.
So like the song says, this is how I choose to live. I am making a conscious decision to jump off the cliff that is the dead end my mind brought me to, and trust that I will be saved as I fall. (Side note: That image is totally used in the book "The Silver Chair" when Eustace and Jill have a moment on a clifftop and Aslan helps them to fall to Narnia. C.S. Lewis is awesome)
That's all I have for tonight. More on the morrow.
Knowing that You'll save me, knowing that you'll save me
And after all the stupid things I did, there's nothing left there to forgive
Because You already forgave me, yeah You already forgave me"
That right there is a line from the Relient K song "Death and Taxes." I love Relient K. It seems that one of their albums fits right in with my life at any given time. They get me.
I was thinking about fearlessness today. There is a good reason for this; I went head to head with about a trillion spiders to clean the basement at my Grandmother's house. Now I am by no means afraid of spiders - while living with my mom and younger sisters as a teenager I was the designated killer of anything creepy crawly - but by the time I had vacuumed up my billionth egg sack, I was getting a little paranoid that some huge mama spider was going to magically appear and bite my head off. Yet, I persevered, and my Grandma's basement looks as homey and inviting as it did when I was little.
It's the little victories like the one above that are keeping me going right now. I stand prepared to take a huge leap of faith in my life, and so far my courage hasn't failed me. So far.
I think the hardest thing about leaving will be the separation from my dad and youngest sister. My dad commented on Sunday, in a quiet and sullen way, "I don't want you to go." Talk about having your heart wrenched out and poked with tiny sticks. Dad doesn't share how he's feeling often, but apparently he has even been telling my Grandma that he's already starting to miss me. I can tell that he's trying to stay strong for me, which only makes me love him more. It means a lot that my father is willing to help me do something good for myself at the expense of his own comfort.
My little sister is showing her love in a different way. She clings to me when we are with each other, and demands several hugs before I am allowed to leave her presence. She doesn't want me to leave - unless I take her with me. Someday she'll know that it was primarily for fear of missing out on huge chunks of her growing up that I have stayed here as long as I have. I don't know what it's like to leave a child, but I imagine my feelings about leaving her are very near to the feeling of having to leave one's own child behind.
Despite all of this, I know that I am on the right path. Leaving now is what I need to do in order to restore my sanity, regrow the piece of my heart that was torn away over the past couple of years, and get back to what I know I can be. When I was in the hospital, everyone said it was time to "be selfish" and take care of myself instead of trying to fix/control those around me. Good advice, but hard for someone who looks at selfishness as if it is the worst sin a human could commit. This would be where the fearlessness comes in. In trying something new and different from the way I've always done it, I am throwing caution to the wind and saying that I can forge ahead into the great unknown. There is no room for fear where I am headed; in fact if fear pops up it's ugly head in my way, I'll kill it with the knowledge that I have a safety net. His name is Jesus.
So like the song says, this is how I choose to live. I am making a conscious decision to jump off the cliff that is the dead end my mind brought me to, and trust that I will be saved as I fall. (Side note: That image is totally used in the book "The Silver Chair" when Eustace and Jill have a moment on a clifftop and Aslan helps them to fall to Narnia. C.S. Lewis is awesome)
That's all I have for tonight. More on the morrow.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
So communication is supposed to go two ways?
Well, the waiting is over and the action of getting everything taken care of for the move is upon me. My biggest packing worry is finding another piece of luggage, which should be relatively easy, and washing my clothes before the final day packing. Other than that, I've been thinking a lot of the relationships that will be changing.
I've never been very good at keeping communication going with friendships and family, but I like to think I've been slowly and steadily getting better over the years. I call people back more often, I try to keep in touch through various forms of media, and I even text people back within about a day. These are fantastic strides in my effort to think of other people, which I hope can keep going when the bulk of my friends and family are quite a few states away.
One thing I've had to face recently is the reality of how I've made people feel by unintentionally ignoring them. See, I've found in a couple friendships that I've been putting in a lot more effort than the other person. It can look a lot of different ways; mostly it's little things, like me being the only one making phone calls or plans. Sure the other person will return my calls (sometimes), and they might call to make a change to the plans, but for the most part I'm the one doing the reaching out. To add a little salt to the wound, they'll usually comment on some funny Facebook post or send a trivial text message right as I've decided I'll just give up altogether.
I've said goodbye to one of these friendships, and it felt good to say that I wasn't going to be putting effort into something that wasn't really appreciated and definitely not reciprocated. It made me wonder if maybe some of the blame lay with me. I could have chosen to extend my energy towards those people who were waiting with acceptance and giving hearts, but instead I chose to waste it on people who didn't care as much for me as I thought they did. It makes me feel more than a bit guilty as I sit here and think of relationships lost because I was the one that seemed not to care.
I've decided that from now on, I'm going to try showing as much love as I can to those people who've shown love to me. I'll become a letter writing, emailing, phone calling machine - one that hopefully receives letters, emails, and phone calls as well as putting them out there. I think it will be a good start in getting back to the me that had a big heart and was able to love "even the least of these." I expect that after a time my learned cynicism towards most of mankind will fade away, and I'll be able to replace it with a hefty dose of mercy and grace for my fellow man. And this is just one part of the growing and learning that I hope and believe will happen when I find my way out of this rut and get down to the real business of living.
Now if only I can figure out how to communicate with tact...I'll be golden. Oh, and that friend that you just thought of who you haven't attempted to contact, give them a call - it'll make you feel good.
I've never been very good at keeping communication going with friendships and family, but I like to think I've been slowly and steadily getting better over the years. I call people back more often, I try to keep in touch through various forms of media, and I even text people back within about a day. These are fantastic strides in my effort to think of other people, which I hope can keep going when the bulk of my friends and family are quite a few states away.
One thing I've had to face recently is the reality of how I've made people feel by unintentionally ignoring them. See, I've found in a couple friendships that I've been putting in a lot more effort than the other person. It can look a lot of different ways; mostly it's little things, like me being the only one making phone calls or plans. Sure the other person will return my calls (sometimes), and they might call to make a change to the plans, but for the most part I'm the one doing the reaching out. To add a little salt to the wound, they'll usually comment on some funny Facebook post or send a trivial text message right as I've decided I'll just give up altogether.
I've said goodbye to one of these friendships, and it felt good to say that I wasn't going to be putting effort into something that wasn't really appreciated and definitely not reciprocated. It made me wonder if maybe some of the blame lay with me. I could have chosen to extend my energy towards those people who were waiting with acceptance and giving hearts, but instead I chose to waste it on people who didn't care as much for me as I thought they did. It makes me feel more than a bit guilty as I sit here and think of relationships lost because I was the one that seemed not to care.
I've decided that from now on, I'm going to try showing as much love as I can to those people who've shown love to me. I'll become a letter writing, emailing, phone calling machine - one that hopefully receives letters, emails, and phone calls as well as putting them out there. I think it will be a good start in getting back to the me that had a big heart and was able to love "even the least of these." I expect that after a time my learned cynicism towards most of mankind will fade away, and I'll be able to replace it with a hefty dose of mercy and grace for my fellow man. And this is just one part of the growing and learning that I hope and believe will happen when I find my way out of this rut and get down to the real business of living.
Now if only I can figure out how to communicate with tact...I'll be golden. Oh, and that friend that you just thought of who you haven't attempted to contact, give them a call - it'll make you feel good.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Waaaaaaaaaaait
I am not, by nature, a very patient person. I do not cope well with things taking longer than I think they should. This manifests itself many different ways in my day to day life; I get cranky in traffic, I curse people with my mind in lines, I leave projects unfinished, and I generally lose stamina for a task that seems to extend beyond fathomable limits.
Just now, I am somewhere in the middle of a wait. I had fully planned on being West coast bound by now, or at least have a ticket purchased for my move. Instead, I am waiting for a bed to sell so that I can afford said ticket. In the meantime there are plenty of things to get me frustrated and close to the complete explosion of my head, neck, and collarbone area - which I imagine would be a horribly time-consuming mess for someone else to have to clean up.
You see, when left to my own designs, I begin to doubt myself. I doubt decisions I make (or made), my ability to complete the task at hand, my judgement of circumstances, whether or not I have followed God or my own stubborn will, etc. The more time I am given to mull over doubt, the more I give myself over to it. Whether valid or not, I will latch on to small things and take them as signs of a mistake coming...a mistake of my own making which will have consequences unbearably dreary to deal with.
I sometimes wonder if the Lord will ever simply tire of my continued disagreement with His set time for things and just let me get on with having everything my own way. Then I remember that I am a beloved creation for whom God wants nothing but the best, and will indeed settle with nothing more than the best, that I can become. I realize that awful and awesome truth that I must yield my way to his, that I must bend my will lest the world break me.
So it's really quite harder than it looks, this waiting. Doing nothing has never cost me so much. But I must remember that there is an end; there is always an end. Eventually patience, persistence, and perseverance give way to their reward, whether it's what I've expected or not... and I have a feeling that during this current trial a great deal of trust will be required as well.
Just now, I am somewhere in the middle of a wait. I had fully planned on being West coast bound by now, or at least have a ticket purchased for my move. Instead, I am waiting for a bed to sell so that I can afford said ticket. In the meantime there are plenty of things to get me frustrated and close to the complete explosion of my head, neck, and collarbone area - which I imagine would be a horribly time-consuming mess for someone else to have to clean up.
You see, when left to my own designs, I begin to doubt myself. I doubt decisions I make (or made), my ability to complete the task at hand, my judgement of circumstances, whether or not I have followed God or my own stubborn will, etc. The more time I am given to mull over doubt, the more I give myself over to it. Whether valid or not, I will latch on to small things and take them as signs of a mistake coming...a mistake of my own making which will have consequences unbearably dreary to deal with.
I sometimes wonder if the Lord will ever simply tire of my continued disagreement with His set time for things and just let me get on with having everything my own way. Then I remember that I am a beloved creation for whom God wants nothing but the best, and will indeed settle with nothing more than the best, that I can become. I realize that awful and awesome truth that I must yield my way to his, that I must bend my will lest the world break me.
So it's really quite harder than it looks, this waiting. Doing nothing has never cost me so much. But I must remember that there is an end; there is always an end. Eventually patience, persistence, and perseverance give way to their reward, whether it's what I've expected or not... and I have a feeling that during this current trial a great deal of trust will be required as well.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Tossing and Turning
Tonight I cant sleep, because you are on my mind - so I'm going to write this as if I am writing to you. I'm going to say all the things that keep me awake and hit me in the middle of the day. May it give me peace.
I don't know if you know how I feel for you. I've never actually come out and explained it. I love you; mostly as a friend, but there are those feelings of Eros involved. I have felt this way a long time, even during times when I wouldn't see you for a while. I wouldn't think of you, then BAM, you were there and every feeling flooded right up to the surface.
You make me happy. Time spent with you is time that is happy for me. I can hope it's happy for you; I don't know for sure but I think it mostly is. This happiness had for a time led me to sort of make an idol of you; something I'm glad I figured out and prayed away. However, even when you're not an idol, you're presence in my day to day life (or lack of it) is keenly felt throughout the day.
I think the big problem is that I am unable to attract you physically, and perhaps a bit emotionally. The fact that I am (by worldly standards) a plain, obese woman is not in my favor. I could list a lot of physical faults, but I try to love them rather than dwell on them. Mentally, I am aware that I am a mess right now, and the getting better is slow going. Yet here's the deal. I get to be loved. I get to be adored. I get to be beautiful. I get to be pursued.
I feel that we have a connection, and it's frustrating that the lack of attraction or the awkward weirdness of some past situations is keeping me from...well, from claiming you as my own. I have never trusted attraction, because it's led me astray far too many times. A connection felt by both would be what people refer to as "in love". Because there are not two way romantic feelings, what I feel now that isn't covered by the love of friendship could be called the waiting reception of Eros - or something along that vein.
All of it aside, because of my love, I really want to see you happy. I would do almost anything to make that happen, including stepping aside so that another woman can have the place I wish so dearly to hold. That makes me feel good about my love, like there's a lack of total selfishness to it.
I'm leaving soon, and it sucks that that also means leaving where you are. I've probably already been clingy, and I'm sure that it's more than obvious from my actions how I feel. But it's good to get the feelings out in the open, rather than toss and turn at night or wander off into daydreams. More people should be honest about their emotions towards others. Maybe not in blog form, but in whatever way fits the situation and time.
And now that I come to my finish, I realize that maybe I didn't write this just for you. Maybe I also wrote it for the other people in my life who feel lonely-who feel the need to be adored, strong, loved, or beautiful-but are for whatever reason not the recipients of such favors. My heart goes out to those as I post this up and go to a much deserved sleep.
I don't know if you know how I feel for you. I've never actually come out and explained it. I love you; mostly as a friend, but there are those feelings of Eros involved. I have felt this way a long time, even during times when I wouldn't see you for a while. I wouldn't think of you, then BAM, you were there and every feeling flooded right up to the surface.
You make me happy. Time spent with you is time that is happy for me. I can hope it's happy for you; I don't know for sure but I think it mostly is. This happiness had for a time led me to sort of make an idol of you; something I'm glad I figured out and prayed away. However, even when you're not an idol, you're presence in my day to day life (or lack of it) is keenly felt throughout the day.
I think the big problem is that I am unable to attract you physically, and perhaps a bit emotionally. The fact that I am (by worldly standards) a plain, obese woman is not in my favor. I could list a lot of physical faults, but I try to love them rather than dwell on them. Mentally, I am aware that I am a mess right now, and the getting better is slow going. Yet here's the deal. I get to be loved. I get to be adored. I get to be beautiful. I get to be pursued.
I feel that we have a connection, and it's frustrating that the lack of attraction or the awkward weirdness of some past situations is keeping me from...well, from claiming you as my own. I have never trusted attraction, because it's led me astray far too many times. A connection felt by both would be what people refer to as "in love". Because there are not two way romantic feelings, what I feel now that isn't covered by the love of friendship could be called the waiting reception of Eros - or something along that vein.
All of it aside, because of my love, I really want to see you happy. I would do almost anything to make that happen, including stepping aside so that another woman can have the place I wish so dearly to hold. That makes me feel good about my love, like there's a lack of total selfishness to it.
I'm leaving soon, and it sucks that that also means leaving where you are. I've probably already been clingy, and I'm sure that it's more than obvious from my actions how I feel. But it's good to get the feelings out in the open, rather than toss and turn at night or wander off into daydreams. More people should be honest about their emotions towards others. Maybe not in blog form, but in whatever way fits the situation and time.
And now that I come to my finish, I realize that maybe I didn't write this just for you. Maybe I also wrote it for the other people in my life who feel lonely-who feel the need to be adored, strong, loved, or beautiful-but are for whatever reason not the recipients of such favors. My heart goes out to those as I post this up and go to a much deserved sleep.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Sometimes it's best to not succeed.
On July 23, 2011, I tried to kill myself. Seeing as I am still alive, it is obvious that I did not succeed in my endeavor. I got about halfway through the pills that I was taking, freaked out, woke my sister, and called 911. After having my stomach pumped at 1:00 am (which I don't recommend, because it is the farthest thing from an enjoyable experience I can think of) I sat in a hospital room falling in and out of sleep until being transferred to a Mental Health Treatment Center.
I could go on and on about the experiences I had there, relive some of the lows and exhalt in the highs, but that is for another time. Right now, I just feel glad to be alive. Ironically, the number of pills I had planned on taking would not have killed me, but it doesn't change the fact that I wanted my life on this world to end. I was not thinking rationally, but there was some logic in the arguments I had laid in front of myself during the previous month. Yes, this was a plan that had been in readiness for that long, just waiting for the right time. Now I can't believe that I wanted to throw my life away.
Things haven't miraculously changed. I'm still depressed, still anxious, and still have the same problems that I had before. The lonliness of feeling unloved still rears its ugly head, and in my self-conciousness I question whether people are sincere in their kind words to me. Yet I feel hope now. I have made plans for my life that I was afraid to before. I am leaving a situation that I need to get out of. I am setting out to blaze my own trail under the loving support of my favorite couple (you know who you are :) ) and it holds the possibility of things beyond what I could make happen on my own.
So two hours after my discharge, I say that I am going to live my life...and live it abundantly. I'm glad I failed at killing myself.
I'll be on here more later with more musings and details, as well as outcomes of things I have yet to face. Also, in two weeks, I plan to be in a different state...so things are going to be interesting.
I could go on and on about the experiences I had there, relive some of the lows and exhalt in the highs, but that is for another time. Right now, I just feel glad to be alive. Ironically, the number of pills I had planned on taking would not have killed me, but it doesn't change the fact that I wanted my life on this world to end. I was not thinking rationally, but there was some logic in the arguments I had laid in front of myself during the previous month. Yes, this was a plan that had been in readiness for that long, just waiting for the right time. Now I can't believe that I wanted to throw my life away.
Things haven't miraculously changed. I'm still depressed, still anxious, and still have the same problems that I had before. The lonliness of feeling unloved still rears its ugly head, and in my self-conciousness I question whether people are sincere in their kind words to me. Yet I feel hope now. I have made plans for my life that I was afraid to before. I am leaving a situation that I need to get out of. I am setting out to blaze my own trail under the loving support of my favorite couple (you know who you are :) ) and it holds the possibility of things beyond what I could make happen on my own.
So two hours after my discharge, I say that I am going to live my life...and live it abundantly. I'm glad I failed at killing myself.
I'll be on here more later with more musings and details, as well as outcomes of things I have yet to face. Also, in two weeks, I plan to be in a different state...so things are going to be interesting.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Little Starts
Yesterday sucked. I would like to come up with a better adjective for it, but suck is the best word that comes to mind. I was in deep depression mode, forgot to take my meds, had to drive to my dad's to borrow yet more money from him for an unforeseen expense (which wasted more of the gasoline quickly diminishing in my car's gas tank), missed dinner, then ate a lot grocery store sushi which really wasn't good at all. There were a few more things that added to the suck of a day, but I think I will keep a bit of it to myself.
So today I wanted to be productive. I put on my old flowy skirt with the bleach stain, which makes me feel pretty while I clean, and decided to pick up the apartment. I started by sitting in the recliner for a couple hours. Every time I got up things just seemed to overwhelm me so I would sit back down. I felt depressed because the house is a pit, but I didn't have any motivation to do anything. Then my sister had a meltdown about the paper she had to hand in at school today and I almost completely gave up on doing anything.
It was at this moment that I had the most genius plan of the century! I decided to do one small job, then sit down in the chair again. So I went over my sister's paper while she was off taking a test, and thanks to the fact that writing is pretty much the only thing I am better than her at academically I was able to tell her how to make it longer. Then I sat down. My next small project was to change out the bag in the trash can, then I sat down. After this I picked up all the trash and dishes in the living room, then sat down. I could go on, but I'm getting sick of writing "then sat down."
By the end of the day I had picked up in the living room, vacuumed, put away clean dishes, clean dirty pans, and load up the dishwasher. For me, this is quite the productive day at home. And it made me feel a bit better; being in a clean room feels a lot happier than being in a cluttered dirty room. I'm thinking of starting on my room tomorrow. There's a lot to do in there, but I think I can use my genius idea in that area as well. I'm supposed to have a safe place in the house where I can go when things are in negative vibe mode, and my room isn't exactly up to par right now. I also should get out of the house at some point, but we'll see how that goes. I'm a bit more content staying at home when it's clean and welcoming. Who knows, maybe I'll even be able to have company soon.
So today I wanted to be productive. I put on my old flowy skirt with the bleach stain, which makes me feel pretty while I clean, and decided to pick up the apartment. I started by sitting in the recliner for a couple hours. Every time I got up things just seemed to overwhelm me so I would sit back down. I felt depressed because the house is a pit, but I didn't have any motivation to do anything. Then my sister had a meltdown about the paper she had to hand in at school today and I almost completely gave up on doing anything.
It was at this moment that I had the most genius plan of the century! I decided to do one small job, then sit down in the chair again. So I went over my sister's paper while she was off taking a test, and thanks to the fact that writing is pretty much the only thing I am better than her at academically I was able to tell her how to make it longer. Then I sat down. My next small project was to change out the bag in the trash can, then I sat down. After this I picked up all the trash and dishes in the living room, then sat down. I could go on, but I'm getting sick of writing "then sat down."
By the end of the day I had picked up in the living room, vacuumed, put away clean dishes, clean dirty pans, and load up the dishwasher. For me, this is quite the productive day at home. And it made me feel a bit better; being in a clean room feels a lot happier than being in a cluttered dirty room. I'm thinking of starting on my room tomorrow. There's a lot to do in there, but I think I can use my genius idea in that area as well. I'm supposed to have a safe place in the house where I can go when things are in negative vibe mode, and my room isn't exactly up to par right now. I also should get out of the house at some point, but we'll see how that goes. I'm a bit more content staying at home when it's clean and welcoming. Who knows, maybe I'll even be able to have company soon.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Sex leads to dancing...
Whenever the topic of sex comes up in a conversation, I always think of the phrase "sex leads to dancing." It's meant to be a funny change up of something that had been said at the Christian college I attended, which was "dancing leads to sex." I don't really believe either statement, but it's a way to break the ice as we go into this subject.
First off, I am technically a virgin. I have never had sexual intercourse with a man. I've fooled around and regretted it, but that was 9 years ago and there's been nothing since. My virginity is something I have spent time being proud of, but now just gives me a lot to think about. Sex and I have had an up and down relationship.
When I was younger I was afraid of sex. First off, it didn't sound very fun when it was first explained to me. I was young so this was the normal reaction. However, by the age of 10, I hated sex. Sex broke up my parents and was therefore something very bad. I was informed that this was not the case all the time, just when the two people aren't married.
With that past, it was easy for me to jump on the "True Love Waits" bandwagon as a teenager. My dad bought me a promise ring, and I vowed that I would not have sex until I was married. This was not only done for my parents, but because it also seemed to be what God wanted me to do. I read in my bible about marriage, and it seemed that God was all for having sex with just one person.
It was easy for me to stick to this during most of my teens because there was no one that wanted to have sex with me and I wasn't really looking for it. Then I met a British guy over the internet, was in a relationship with him, and had oral sex with him when we were together. He had also wanted to save sex for marriage, but when tempted with it we caved quite easily. After breaking up and feeling guilty for what I did, he said that I had taken his virginity and made it OK for him to sleep with his next girlfriend. That guilt lasted for about two years and was extremely hard to get rid of.
After that relationship I was even more passionate about waiting until I was married to a man before we sexed each other up. It didn't matter if he was a virgin or not, just that we were "pure" until the exchanging of rings in front of friends and family. I promoted this to others, especially the girls in the youth group I helped to lead, and was not secretive about the experience I had in the past. It made it easier for other girls and women to talk with me about their own issues with sex, which I thought was pretty cool.
Yet now, the older I get, the more I wonder if it is worth it. I haven't been in a relationship with a man since I was 19, nor have I had any men interested in dating me. I sometimes wonder if this is due to my openness about waiting for marriage for sex; I can see where it would be kind of a turn off. My friends are sexually active, and I've even met Christians my age that love Jesus yet have had multiple sexual partners.
And it's not only that. I want to have sex. The fear of it I had when I was younger no longer remains. The women of my church that were open with me and willing to talk with me about sexual relationships helped me to get past that. I now feel that I am ready for a romantic relationship that involves physical affection. I'm not just ready, but I think about it a lot. When I say I want to have sex...I really mean it. A lot.
It all leads me to wonder if I should still be as worried about waiting for sex. I mean, is it worth it? Am I missing out on a wonderful life experience just because of some promise I made to God and my dad when I was 14? I don't know.
What I do know is that I still want to do what God wants me to - to follow His will. I think that at this age and period of my life, I'm willing to put my virginity on the back burner and pray that God guides me to where I need to be. I feel that God should be in every part of my life - even sex - so he should be in on the decision. I would hope that I find someone willing to discuss sex and pray about it. It's yet another unknown for the future, but it's one that is definitely on my mind a lot. I must say that I would really like to experience a man wanting to date me so I can at least get some kissing and snuggling...just to make the wait a bit easier.
First off, I am technically a virgin. I have never had sexual intercourse with a man. I've fooled around and regretted it, but that was 9 years ago and there's been nothing since. My virginity is something I have spent time being proud of, but now just gives me a lot to think about. Sex and I have had an up and down relationship.
When I was younger I was afraid of sex. First off, it didn't sound very fun when it was first explained to me. I was young so this was the normal reaction. However, by the age of 10, I hated sex. Sex broke up my parents and was therefore something very bad. I was informed that this was not the case all the time, just when the two people aren't married.
With that past, it was easy for me to jump on the "True Love Waits" bandwagon as a teenager. My dad bought me a promise ring, and I vowed that I would not have sex until I was married. This was not only done for my parents, but because it also seemed to be what God wanted me to do. I read in my bible about marriage, and it seemed that God was all for having sex with just one person.
It was easy for me to stick to this during most of my teens because there was no one that wanted to have sex with me and I wasn't really looking for it. Then I met a British guy over the internet, was in a relationship with him, and had oral sex with him when we were together. He had also wanted to save sex for marriage, but when tempted with it we caved quite easily. After breaking up and feeling guilty for what I did, he said that I had taken his virginity and made it OK for him to sleep with his next girlfriend. That guilt lasted for about two years and was extremely hard to get rid of.
After that relationship I was even more passionate about waiting until I was married to a man before we sexed each other up. It didn't matter if he was a virgin or not, just that we were "pure" until the exchanging of rings in front of friends and family. I promoted this to others, especially the girls in the youth group I helped to lead, and was not secretive about the experience I had in the past. It made it easier for other girls and women to talk with me about their own issues with sex, which I thought was pretty cool.
Yet now, the older I get, the more I wonder if it is worth it. I haven't been in a relationship with a man since I was 19, nor have I had any men interested in dating me. I sometimes wonder if this is due to my openness about waiting for marriage for sex; I can see where it would be kind of a turn off. My friends are sexually active, and I've even met Christians my age that love Jesus yet have had multiple sexual partners.
And it's not only that. I want to have sex. The fear of it I had when I was younger no longer remains. The women of my church that were open with me and willing to talk with me about sexual relationships helped me to get past that. I now feel that I am ready for a romantic relationship that involves physical affection. I'm not just ready, but I think about it a lot. When I say I want to have sex...I really mean it. A lot.
It all leads me to wonder if I should still be as worried about waiting for sex. I mean, is it worth it? Am I missing out on a wonderful life experience just because of some promise I made to God and my dad when I was 14? I don't know.
What I do know is that I still want to do what God wants me to - to follow His will. I think that at this age and period of my life, I'm willing to put my virginity on the back burner and pray that God guides me to where I need to be. I feel that God should be in every part of my life - even sex - so he should be in on the decision. I would hope that I find someone willing to discuss sex and pray about it. It's yet another unknown for the future, but it's one that is definitely on my mind a lot. I must say that I would really like to experience a man wanting to date me so I can at least get some kissing and snuggling...just to make the wait a bit easier.
Friday, May 13, 2011
The Storm
I am in a rare state of peace right now, which has brought with it some positive energy. I am writing this while lying on the floor in front of my open patio doors while a storm drives through outside. It’s probably not the best place to have an electronic device, but I wanted to write about what I am feeling right now.
The first thing I notice is the smell, which is pungent and earthy, and somehow reminds me of new beginnings. The thunder isn’t very loud, but almost like a low soothing growl – if a growl can be called soothing. The sound of the rain is for once drowning out the sound of the nearby interstate traffic, so I feel as if I am in my own little world. The lightning flashes to give glimpses of the sky while the wind brings the smells into the apartment. The trees outside seem to stretch out and accept the nourishing rain. With all of this I can close my eyes and feel at peace in the moment that is happening. I feel close to God.
I haven’t had these feelings for a while, so there’s also a sense of nostalgia to it all. I feel like anything is possible; all the negative is driven away with the wind and drowned in the rain. And even though I feel as if I am in my own little world, at the same time I feel connected.
The storm is moving off now, but the feelings are lingering behind, trailing as softly as the mist that rose from the heavy rains as they pelted the ground. And I realize there can be peace in a storm.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Isolating = No good
I had my first interview for some actual aid today. There is nothing more humbling than talking with a person about what you don't have, who has been paying your bills for you, and what is happening with the bills you can't afford to pay. I am going to call it practice for my upcoming interview for disability.
Having left the apartment today after being inside since Friday, I realize how much I was depending on day treatment to keep me stable. There's something about spending a long period of time away from people, and the everyday interactions that most take for granted; it puts you in a mental state that is hard to get out of. I cannot even begin to describe how much of nothing that I've been doing. In my defense, I was really sick and my fibromyalgia was in full swing, but how can a human being truly experience life in a messy apartment away from the world?
I sometimes think about Emily Dickenson. People think she is really cool and amazing, and her poems really are awesome, but she lived through letters and poetry while being a shut-in. I don't think I could do that. As much as my depression makes me want to hide away from the world around me, I want to be around people.
I have this desire in me to be around people paired with the inability to make it happen on the consistent basis that I want to. Such is life.
Right now, I think I just need to stay positive and try to get my bills paid. I can do this...and I'll keep writing as i go.
Having left the apartment today after being inside since Friday, I realize how much I was depending on day treatment to keep me stable. There's something about spending a long period of time away from people, and the everyday interactions that most take for granted; it puts you in a mental state that is hard to get out of. I cannot even begin to describe how much of nothing that I've been doing. In my defense, I was really sick and my fibromyalgia was in full swing, but how can a human being truly experience life in a messy apartment away from the world?
I sometimes think about Emily Dickenson. People think she is really cool and amazing, and her poems really are awesome, but she lived through letters and poetry while being a shut-in. I don't think I could do that. As much as my depression makes me want to hide away from the world around me, I want to be around people.
I have this desire in me to be around people paired with the inability to make it happen on the consistent basis that I want to. Such is life.
Right now, I think I just need to stay positive and try to get my bills paid. I can do this...and I'll keep writing as i go.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Sick Days
I am finally starting to get over being sick. My fever is gone, as least, so now I'm just trying to get the fibromyalgia under control by trying to get up and do a few simple things. I don't find it hard to take it slow, because I am kind of slow, but also my breathing isn't 100% yet so I get short of breath pretty easy.
I think the worse thing about being sick as an adult is the loneliness. My sisters had to work, and of course yesterday when I was doing really bad, everyone was celebrating Mothers Day. There were friends I could have had over, but our house is quite dirty and I didn't want to add embarrassment to sickness. In the end, my dad and sister got me some soup (Mrs Grass is the best when you're sick) and some orange juice. The soup was just the thing, and all I had to eat yesterday.
Another thing is that there is nothing on television. It was truly annoying. I tried to read, but my headache stopped that after about a paragraph. I listened to some music while I was trying to lower my fever with a lukewarm bath. Also, spending about an hour thinking about why it's called lukewarm instead of warm was somewhat fun. I would have called people, but the few people who had talked to me on the phone said they couldn't understand what I was saying. Apparently the coughing had me sounding like an old hag, which sounds just fine to me.
So that was my weekend. I'm hoping next weekend will be better.
I think the worse thing about being sick as an adult is the loneliness. My sisters had to work, and of course yesterday when I was doing really bad, everyone was celebrating Mothers Day. There were friends I could have had over, but our house is quite dirty and I didn't want to add embarrassment to sickness. In the end, my dad and sister got me some soup (Mrs Grass is the best when you're sick) and some orange juice. The soup was just the thing, and all I had to eat yesterday.
Another thing is that there is nothing on television. It was truly annoying. I tried to read, but my headache stopped that after about a paragraph. I listened to some music while I was trying to lower my fever with a lukewarm bath. Also, spending about an hour thinking about why it's called lukewarm instead of warm was somewhat fun. I would have called people, but the few people who had talked to me on the phone said they couldn't understand what I was saying. Apparently the coughing had me sounding like an old hag, which sounds just fine to me.
So that was my weekend. I'm hoping next weekend will be better.
Friday, May 6, 2011
A Bad Day
Today was a bad day. I have decided that instead of talking about what happened, I will give you all a peek at what goes through the head of someone with depression. After all, I started this blog so I could share what my mental illness is like...so here we go. This is what my brain tells me throughout the day.
"Fucking dumbass! I pushed the snooze button on your alarm too many times. How many fucking times do I have to do this shit before I know it makes me late for things that are fucking important."
"I feel like shit and I need to go home, and now they are probably going to discharge my ass from day treatment. Good job me, you're just a big fucking winner. Way to fail again."
"Great. The doctor is running late. What the fuck am I supposed to do to get out of this one? Should I leave? I can't even think straight. Fucking idiot. Way to leave a pair of kids at school. Hope you didn't enjoy that friendship you fucking nimrod."
"And now you got discharged from your day treatment...unsuccessfully. Great job loser. Do you ever finish anything? I mean really, try to think of one thing you finished.......and you can't because you're a loser."
"Dad is mad at me again because he has to pay for my meds the doc gave me. He wants me to get a job. Of course. Because I'm fucking lazy and can't do shit for myself. I should just stay in this fucking bed until I die. God please just let me die while I'm asleep, then all would be solved. Of course, there goes finishing anything again. Loser, loser, loser. And now you're alone, like you will be your whole life because people don't want to be around a fucking downer. I should call a friend but then they will think I'm a fucking nut job because I'm crying."
"I want food. Junk food. And a cigarette. I want to shove my face, then have a cigarette even though I'm sick. I just really don't care."
Eventually the negative thoughts stopped, mostly because I actually used my coping skills. That's what goes through my head though. Even though it was a bad day, I have had much worse, so the talk has been even worse.
I don't want any comments that say "I'm sorry you feel that way", or "You aren't a loser," because I already know that. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I know that at least 99% of the negative things that go through my head are lies. I didn't know what to write today, and I thought this would fit into my theme of showing what my recovery in mental illness is like.
"Fucking dumbass! I pushed the snooze button on your alarm too many times. How many fucking times do I have to do this shit before I know it makes me late for things that are fucking important."
"I feel like shit and I need to go home, and now they are probably going to discharge my ass from day treatment. Good job me, you're just a big fucking winner. Way to fail again."
"Great. The doctor is running late. What the fuck am I supposed to do to get out of this one? Should I leave? I can't even think straight. Fucking idiot. Way to leave a pair of kids at school. Hope you didn't enjoy that friendship you fucking nimrod."
"And now you got discharged from your day treatment...unsuccessfully. Great job loser. Do you ever finish anything? I mean really, try to think of one thing you finished.......and you can't because you're a loser."
"Dad is mad at me again because he has to pay for my meds the doc gave me. He wants me to get a job. Of course. Because I'm fucking lazy and can't do shit for myself. I should just stay in this fucking bed until I die. God please just let me die while I'm asleep, then all would be solved. Of course, there goes finishing anything again. Loser, loser, loser. And now you're alone, like you will be your whole life because people don't want to be around a fucking downer. I should call a friend but then they will think I'm a fucking nut job because I'm crying."
"I want food. Junk food. And a cigarette. I want to shove my face, then have a cigarette even though I'm sick. I just really don't care."
Eventually the negative thoughts stopped, mostly because I actually used my coping skills. That's what goes through my head though. Even though it was a bad day, I have had much worse, so the talk has been even worse.
I don't want any comments that say "I'm sorry you feel that way", or "You aren't a loser," because I already know that. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I know that at least 99% of the negative things that go through my head are lies. I didn't know what to write today, and I thought this would fit into my theme of showing what my recovery in mental illness is like.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Church searching
Today is a day that I hate Fibromyalgia. If you're wondering what that is, look it up; all I will say is that it means constant pain and fatigue for me. To battle the pain today I decided to take a warm bath, which of course includes listening to music and reading a book.
I've been re-reading "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller, and while bathing read the chapters "Confession" and "Church". It's amazing what you can miss the first, and perhaps even second, time reading a book. I found that especially "Church" was applicable to my current situation with trying out a new church and leaving what I've known behind. Sometimes you have to go where you feel the Spirit guiding you.
I grew up in a Berean church, which is a pretty small denomination that I am told has similarities with the Mennonites. My church was pretty conservative, but unless I was being rebellious and depressed, the teaching was good and biblically based.
I've never really thought that there were bad denominations, just ones that I didn't like (which are mostly charismatic churches that have the speaking in tongues and such). My family is made up of a lot of denominations. Dad's parents are Catholic, Mom's parents were Lutheran, aunts and uncles are Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Evangelical Free, and a bible church that is unaffiliated with a denomination. I also have relatives that are atheist, agnostic, and whatever in between.
I thought my church was the right one for me, but it turns out that it may not be. I want to be able to serve once more in a community, not just in a church. This is what has left me looking for a new church home. The church I attended on Sunday with a friend seemed that it may give me more of an opportunity to serve and also have a sense of community, and it was Lutheran, which I am sure would have made Grandma P happy. I haven't heard a sermon there, so I am not sure if I will make it my church home, but it definitely deserves a second look.
I've been re-reading "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller, and while bathing read the chapters "Confession" and "Church". It's amazing what you can miss the first, and perhaps even second, time reading a book. I found that especially "Church" was applicable to my current situation with trying out a new church and leaving what I've known behind. Sometimes you have to go where you feel the Spirit guiding you.
I grew up in a Berean church, which is a pretty small denomination that I am told has similarities with the Mennonites. My church was pretty conservative, but unless I was being rebellious and depressed, the teaching was good and biblically based.
I've never really thought that there were bad denominations, just ones that I didn't like (which are mostly charismatic churches that have the speaking in tongues and such). My family is made up of a lot of denominations. Dad's parents are Catholic, Mom's parents were Lutheran, aunts and uncles are Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Evangelical Free, and a bible church that is unaffiliated with a denomination. I also have relatives that are atheist, agnostic, and whatever in between.
I thought my church was the right one for me, but it turns out that it may not be. I want to be able to serve once more in a community, not just in a church. This is what has left me looking for a new church home. The church I attended on Sunday with a friend seemed that it may give me more of an opportunity to serve and also have a sense of community, and it was Lutheran, which I am sure would have made Grandma P happy. I haven't heard a sermon there, so I am not sure if I will make it my church home, but it definitely deserves a second look.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Needing is one thing...
I have been sick for two days, which means I haven't been to my day treatment. Luckily, I haven't been very anxious or depressed, just feeling that my sinuses want to blow up my face. I bought cold meds, but I'm going to have to take it back to the store because I can't take it with my meds. Such is life.
I did meet with my peer support person today though; a peer supporter being sort of like the mental illness version of an AA sponsor. He's very nice, but I'm not sure if I'm OK with a man doing my peer support. We'll see how that goes. We got quite a bit done on my Wellness Recovery Action Plan (or WRAP).
One weird part of WRAP is that I have to talk with my support system about their willingness to be a part of my suppors system, and also what are warning signs before I go into a relapse with my depression and anxiety. This makes me feel a bit weird. I don't know why though, because if someone I was friendly with came up to me and was all, "Hey so I want you to be part of my support system so that I can call you to talk or hangout when I feel like I'm losing my mind," I'd be all over it. But that's me, not other people. I always feel weird when it is I that needs to do the needing and the asking. Luckily there are a few people that are already cool with it, so it's not a huge list...but it's still intimidating.
I was going to write more, but I just sneezed on my computer and now need to go clean it off.
I did meet with my peer support person today though; a peer supporter being sort of like the mental illness version of an AA sponsor. He's very nice, but I'm not sure if I'm OK with a man doing my peer support. We'll see how that goes. We got quite a bit done on my Wellness Recovery Action Plan (or WRAP).
One weird part of WRAP is that I have to talk with my support system about their willingness to be a part of my suppors system, and also what are warning signs before I go into a relapse with my depression and anxiety. This makes me feel a bit weird. I don't know why though, because if someone I was friendly with came up to me and was all, "Hey so I want you to be part of my support system so that I can call you to talk or hangout when I feel like I'm losing my mind," I'd be all over it. But that's me, not other people. I always feel weird when it is I that needs to do the needing and the asking. Luckily there are a few people that are already cool with it, so it's not a huge list...but it's still intimidating.
I was going to write more, but I just sneezed on my computer and now need to go clean it off.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Uncertainty
Today has been an anxiety ridden day for me; luckily there have been no panic attacks. It had a bit to do with world events, and a lot to do with my current situation in life.
First off, I'll let out my feeling about the world news event of Osama bin Ladin being killed. I found out via Facebook about this at about 3am today, so that was a weird middle of the night experience. Of course, with any big event that happens in the world, I get my irrational end of the world fear. Other than that, I don't really feel much. I mean, I'm glad our troops are safe, but I think it's weird to celebrate that someone was killed. What he did was terrible, and he certainly spread his distorted doctrine to a lot of people, but I can't really be happy that he's dead. I do feel a bit of relief though.
On to my situation, I still don't know what direction my life is going right now. I can tell you what I am doing tomorrow, but can't say what I'll be doing next week. I find that it's harder for me to take things one day at a time than I would've ever thought. I keep wanting to get things fixed now so that I can get on with life, not realizing that getting things fixed is my life right now. All this came from a short visit with my therapist, so I'm still wrapping my head around some of the concepts. I'm glad I got through today.
As for tomorrow, I hope it will bring good things. I hope that I can make it to day treatment again, which will probably depend on if this sinus pressure and runny nose is leading to a cold or not. We'll see how my immune system handles things.
First off, I'll let out my feeling about the world news event of Osama bin Ladin being killed. I found out via Facebook about this at about 3am today, so that was a weird middle of the night experience. Of course, with any big event that happens in the world, I get my irrational end of the world fear. Other than that, I don't really feel much. I mean, I'm glad our troops are safe, but I think it's weird to celebrate that someone was killed. What he did was terrible, and he certainly spread his distorted doctrine to a lot of people, but I can't really be happy that he's dead. I do feel a bit of relief though.
On to my situation, I still don't know what direction my life is going right now. I can tell you what I am doing tomorrow, but can't say what I'll be doing next week. I find that it's harder for me to take things one day at a time than I would've ever thought. I keep wanting to get things fixed now so that I can get on with life, not realizing that getting things fixed is my life right now. All this came from a short visit with my therapist, so I'm still wrapping my head around some of the concepts. I'm glad I got through today.
As for tomorrow, I hope it will bring good things. I hope that I can make it to day treatment again, which will probably depend on if this sinus pressure and runny nose is leading to a cold or not. We'll see how my immune system handles things.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Good weekend
I am glad to say that I had a very full weekend! I started with watching a child on Friday night, which was fun even though she didn't want me to read Harry Potter to her (she said she didn't like it!). Things went uphill from there. On Saturday I went to a get together for people I used to work with at a bar, and despite the crowd I did not have a panic attack. Then today I went to church, had friends over, and went to the platonic life partner's place for some great lasagna.
There is something to this being social thing. My therapist type people have been saying that it's something I should do, but I've just kind of not wanted to get out of my pity party of one. But there really is something to it. When I think about all the times that my depression was worse than normal, they were times when I was alone a lot. You would think that with my sparkling intellect I would have figured this out sooner.
Now that I have seen this, and also have the confidence to know that people do enjoy my presence, the difficult part will be picking up my phone and connecting with others. Also, I should probably keep my apartment clean so that I can have people over during this time of little money in my pocket. I think it will be worth it if I can pull it off, while remembering that I can have a pity party every once in a while because I am not perfect.
There is something to this being social thing. My therapist type people have been saying that it's something I should do, but I've just kind of not wanted to get out of my pity party of one. But there really is something to it. When I think about all the times that my depression was worse than normal, they were times when I was alone a lot. You would think that with my sparkling intellect I would have figured this out sooner.
Now that I have seen this, and also have the confidence to know that people do enjoy my presence, the difficult part will be picking up my phone and connecting with others. Also, I should probably keep my apartment clean so that I can have people over during this time of little money in my pocket. I think it will be worth it if I can pull it off, while remembering that I can have a pity party every once in a while because I am not perfect.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Poem II
OK here's another poem. I tried something new this time, so I'm hoping it works. Also, I need to find my thesaurus. Feedback much welcomed
Crawling up to my head
Slinking, crawling, creeping
Making its way to the core
It begins to dig and slurp
Slimy, dark, determined
Once inside it lays its eggs
Black, hard, stinking
It finds a sturdy place to stay
A place of control
Gripping, pricking, cold
It takes my thoughts
Treacherous, demented, dangerous
My brain tries to fight
Every thread is taut with effort
Pulling, pushing, pulsing
To defeat it I must do something
Courageous, drastic, brave
I tell others about its existence
I take the antidotes of all colors
Smooth, charged, melting
I take it day by day
Hard, jolting, scary
The monster loses his grip
I gain more ground every day
Sweetly, softly, fully
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Charity
I'm having a hard time accepting grace today. There are plenty of things for me to be thankful for, things I don't deserve, but all I am doing is focusing on the negative. I even woke up this way. After staring into the bathroom mirror for a while, I went back to bed and didn't attend day treatment.
At this point, I am picturing my depression and anxiety as an opponent I have to fight every day. Some days I feel ready for the fight and come out kicking ass, while other days depression has executed a sneak attack at 3 a.m. and knocked me out before we even started. I think depression fights dirty, especially considering that it has panic on its side as well. Once you get knocked out by depression, anxiety comes and pins you down while trash talking and saying a panic attack is on its way.
Today I feel beat up. I feel that everything is harder to do. It's hard to get out of bed, hard to go to the living room, hard to answer the phone, hard to eat, hard to do anything.
Here's the kicker - I don't have much to be depressed about today. My dad told me last night that he is going to take care of my car payment so that it won't get repossessed, my aunt and uncle are giving us money to help cover rent, my gloriously wonderful friend is sending me some money to help out, and all of this I found out last night or this morning. Also, I didn't ask for any of it. I prayed that God would help with the money situation, and He did. Grace. I am being given what I did nothing to earn.
I want to be greateful, I want to smile and dance around, but this cloud of darkness is around my head and refusing to leave.
I read about grace today while reading "Blue Like Jazz". In the chapter he talks about how it is hard to accept grace because it's like accepting charity, and his pride doesn't want to let him do that. I feel the same. I leave you with the last paragraph of this chapter in the hope that writing it out will help me to live it.
"In exchange for our humility and willingness to accept the charity of God, we are given a kingdom. And a beggar's kingdom is better than a proud man's delusion."
At this point, I am picturing my depression and anxiety as an opponent I have to fight every day. Some days I feel ready for the fight and come out kicking ass, while other days depression has executed a sneak attack at 3 a.m. and knocked me out before we even started. I think depression fights dirty, especially considering that it has panic on its side as well. Once you get knocked out by depression, anxiety comes and pins you down while trash talking and saying a panic attack is on its way.
Today I feel beat up. I feel that everything is harder to do. It's hard to get out of bed, hard to go to the living room, hard to answer the phone, hard to eat, hard to do anything.
Here's the kicker - I don't have much to be depressed about today. My dad told me last night that he is going to take care of my car payment so that it won't get repossessed, my aunt and uncle are giving us money to help cover rent, my gloriously wonderful friend is sending me some money to help out, and all of this I found out last night or this morning. Also, I didn't ask for any of it. I prayed that God would help with the money situation, and He did. Grace. I am being given what I did nothing to earn.
I want to be greateful, I want to smile and dance around, but this cloud of darkness is around my head and refusing to leave.
I read about grace today while reading "Blue Like Jazz". In the chapter he talks about how it is hard to accept grace because it's like accepting charity, and his pride doesn't want to let him do that. I feel the same. I leave you with the last paragraph of this chapter in the hope that writing it out will help me to live it.
"In exchange for our humility and willingness to accept the charity of God, we are given a kingdom. And a beggar's kingdom is better than a proud man's delusion."
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Poem
Ok readers of this blog, I need some feedback here. I wrote my first poem in a very long time today, but I feel like there is something off about it. I think the meter doesn't sound quite right or something. So please critique away and give me some constructive critisism.
She wears her sin like a letter on her chest,
She can't out run,
She can't hide.
Every pain she feels is written on her face,
She can't reverse,
She can't erase.
Only a fool could believe she is worthless.
Only a fool could miss the beauty of the clay.
Only a fool could believe she is worthless.
Only a fool would shake their head and look away.
She was told she had a gift she could give of herself,
She can shine,
She can speak.
No one could compare to the passion in her soul,
She is wise,
She survives.
Say what you will about her style,
She has grace.
Say what you will about her body,
It's a temporary place.
One day she will transform before your eyes;
Then the clay will match the soul inside.
She wears her sin like a letter on her chest,
She can't out run,
She can't hide.
Every pain she feels is written on her face,
She can't reverse,
She can't erase.
Only a fool could believe she is worthless.
Only a fool could miss the beauty of the clay.
Only a fool could believe she is worthless.
Only a fool would shake their head and look away.
She was told she had a gift she could give of herself,
She can shine,
She can speak.
No one could compare to the passion in her soul,
She is wise,
She survives.
Say what you will about her style,
She has grace.
Say what you will about her body,
It's a temporary place.
One day she will transform before your eyes;
Then the clay will match the soul inside.
A day off
It's interesting that I find myself more worn out from 6 hours of my current day treatment program than I was when I worked ten and a half hour shifts. It can be exhausting discussing your emotions, triggers, and coping skills for a whole day. And it isn't just your emotions, triggers, and coping skills, but also those of at least 7 other adults. Add to that an irritable mood, the worry of how I'm going to pay rent (the worry about how I'm going to pay anything), and a new person in the group that is annoying me to death, and you have my day yesterday.
I don't think I've ever cried and told anyone to stop fucking talking who I was not related to; that makes yesterday a definite first. It was towards the end of the day and people were talking about all the problems they have had for years trying to get financial services and aid when they could not work, due to the fact that theirs was a mental illness rather than physical. After a day of listening to the annoying woman who would not shut up about anything, I was already close to my breaking point. Then to hear people talk about the years it took them to get any kind of aid and how hard everything was, while I am just at the beginning of trying to get help, pushed me right over the edge. I dropped the F-bomb more than i care to admit; the S-grenade was thrown a few times as well. I went through a small box of tissues on my own as I cried like a baby. After this, the group was over and we all played a board game for rec therapy.
All of this has an influence on why I took the day off from day treatment. I'm not doing much today other than helping my sister through a hard day and trying to write a poem. I don't know why I am writing a poem, but I am going to write one.
I don't think I've ever cried and told anyone to stop fucking talking who I was not related to; that makes yesterday a definite first. It was towards the end of the day and people were talking about all the problems they have had for years trying to get financial services and aid when they could not work, due to the fact that theirs was a mental illness rather than physical. After a day of listening to the annoying woman who would not shut up about anything, I was already close to my breaking point. Then to hear people talk about the years it took them to get any kind of aid and how hard everything was, while I am just at the beginning of trying to get help, pushed me right over the edge. I dropped the F-bomb more than i care to admit; the S-grenade was thrown a few times as well. I went through a small box of tissues on my own as I cried like a baby. After this, the group was over and we all played a board game for rec therapy.
All of this has an influence on why I took the day off from day treatment. I'm not doing much today other than helping my sister through a hard day and trying to write a poem. I don't know why I am writing a poem, but I am going to write one.
Monday, April 25, 2011
The cats have stolen my bed!
I had quite the social weekend. It was awesome, but now I am sitting here in my apartment wishing I had another body in the room; a live human body. I would lay in bed and read, but these crafty buggers have staked their territory.
I am again reading a book that I got long ago and really had an effect on me. The book is "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller. If you've never read it, I highly recommend it. A friend of mine that I had been bugging to read it for a while has finally started reading it and liking it. I take this as proof that 60% of the time, I'm right every time.
Back to wanting some human company. I don't feel like I can't call people or anything right now, but I do think it's too late to invite anyone over. If I had a teapot, I would probably invite people anyway, but alas all I have is a mesh strainer for use in cups. To make more than one cup can be sort of time consuming. Oh, and I have my comfy pants on, so I'd have to change.
I think I need to start planning things to do with others in the evenings. This will mean acting responsible and keeping my word on when and where I can or cannot be; I do think I am up to the challenge.
Quick note of the day from the day treatment I attend - my favorite person has crazy old prospector teeth. I can't think of what cartoon character he reminds me of, and it's driving me crazy. Though he looks this way, I have made him the person I sit by at the table. He's got a lot of pain, but despite the teeth, it's awesome to see him smile.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Good Friday
I love Jesus, but I haven't been to church in a long while. I still have some negative feelings regarding my old church and how things went down there. However, today I got a last minute invite from a friend to attend a Good Friday service. It was something I needed; being around other believers can really lift my spirit.
I think it's time for me to look for a new church. I grew up going to the same church until I was 24. At that time the amount of people coming to church was exceeding the amount of people the church could hold. The elders of the church decided that we would merge with a larger church. I did not like the larger church. I found the sermons to be lacking in depth, and it felt sort of commercial. I couldn't serve in the same way I had before, and I was feeling loss and frustration at the loss of families I had known for years (some decided to find new churches). I was even discouraged from working with the youth group, which I had been doing for 2-3 before. It was crushing.
I stopped going to church until some of the people from my old church started up a new church. At first I was really excited, but the excitement left when I had feelings of anger. I felt hurt that some of the people who had voted to merge churches were now making a different church in a way to fix their mistakes.
Soon after this, I started getting panic attacks at the thought of going to church. I'm sad to say that it drove me even further from fellowship.
It was so good to be in a church tonight and to meditate on Christ's death on a cross for my sins. It never ceases to amaze me that Jesus would allow himself to be beaten, broken, and killed to save the sins of the world. When I look at my life in comparison with the sacrifice made by God it makes me want to be a better person. I feel good tonight, and I feel inspired.
So from here I'll probably check out some churches. I don't know where I'll end up, but I know I need an opportunity to serve and have fellowship with other believers. Who knows, maybe I could even work with a youth group again.
Whatever happens, tonight I feel hope.
I think it's time for me to look for a new church. I grew up going to the same church until I was 24. At that time the amount of people coming to church was exceeding the amount of people the church could hold. The elders of the church decided that we would merge with a larger church. I did not like the larger church. I found the sermons to be lacking in depth, and it felt sort of commercial. I couldn't serve in the same way I had before, and I was feeling loss and frustration at the loss of families I had known for years (some decided to find new churches). I was even discouraged from working with the youth group, which I had been doing for 2-3 before. It was crushing.
I stopped going to church until some of the people from my old church started up a new church. At first I was really excited, but the excitement left when I had feelings of anger. I felt hurt that some of the people who had voted to merge churches were now making a different church in a way to fix their mistakes.
Soon after this, I started getting panic attacks at the thought of going to church. I'm sad to say that it drove me even further from fellowship.
It was so good to be in a church tonight and to meditate on Christ's death on a cross for my sins. It never ceases to amaze me that Jesus would allow himself to be beaten, broken, and killed to save the sins of the world. When I look at my life in comparison with the sacrifice made by God it makes me want to be a better person. I feel good tonight, and I feel inspired.
So from here I'll probably check out some churches. I don't know where I'll end up, but I know I need an opportunity to serve and have fellowship with other believers. Who knows, maybe I could even work with a youth group again.
Whatever happens, tonight I feel hope.
I want to be asleep...
Before I start into my subject, I feel it should be known that I am really tired, and therefore may not make a whole lot of sense. I might though, so here goes.
I met with one of my social worker people today (apparently I have three now), and I am starting to feel hope that I will be able to get some aid to pay those pesky bills like rent and phone. While I think this is great, I can't get the voice of the perfectionist out of my head; the voice that demands I be able to do this on my own. I tried telling it out loud to shut the hell up, but then felt that it would come too close to talking to people who aren't there, so I stopped.
What didn't help today was that my fibromyalgia decided to attack my body with pain, and I missed day programming. I wish I would have been there today. Had I been there, I would not have been home to hear my sister tell me that once our lease is up I need to find a different living situation because she doesn't want to live with me. It's a really great thing to hear your younger sister say that to you; great if you also like your heart pulled out of your chest, set on fire, then stomped on. She said I had better be looking for ways to make the move to Oregon happen.
Now this is where we get some meat on the bones. Do I want to move to Oregon? I don't know yet. It has been on my mind since the offer was given, but I don't want to act impulsively, and I most definitely want it to be my own decision, not someone else's. I am trying to get my life on a somewhat steady footing, and it would be a bit of extra work to move states. That being said, I love Oregon, and I love who I would be living with. However, with my sister making it sound like a demand, it sheds a whole new light on the situation.
There is a deep desire for me to now run away. To get away from the bills that I can't pay, the sister who is stressed out over me, and be somewhere where a walk is an inspiring thing.
So tonight - or rather, this morning - my head is going 60 miles a minute as I try to think this whole thing out. The more I think, the more I just want to go somewhere and talk to someone, which isn't easy to do at 1:33am. Perhaps I will make an effort to reach out tomorrow. It's the start of Easter weekend, which makes me think of love and sacrifice; two things I feel I am in need of.
I met with one of my social worker people today (apparently I have three now), and I am starting to feel hope that I will be able to get some aid to pay those pesky bills like rent and phone. While I think this is great, I can't get the voice of the perfectionist out of my head; the voice that demands I be able to do this on my own. I tried telling it out loud to shut the hell up, but then felt that it would come too close to talking to people who aren't there, so I stopped.
What didn't help today was that my fibromyalgia decided to attack my body with pain, and I missed day programming. I wish I would have been there today. Had I been there, I would not have been home to hear my sister tell me that once our lease is up I need to find a different living situation because she doesn't want to live with me. It's a really great thing to hear your younger sister say that to you; great if you also like your heart pulled out of your chest, set on fire, then stomped on. She said I had better be looking for ways to make the move to Oregon happen.
Now this is where we get some meat on the bones. Do I want to move to Oregon? I don't know yet. It has been on my mind since the offer was given, but I don't want to act impulsively, and I most definitely want it to be my own decision, not someone else's. I am trying to get my life on a somewhat steady footing, and it would be a bit of extra work to move states. That being said, I love Oregon, and I love who I would be living with. However, with my sister making it sound like a demand, it sheds a whole new light on the situation.
There is a deep desire for me to now run away. To get away from the bills that I can't pay, the sister who is stressed out over me, and be somewhere where a walk is an inspiring thing.
So tonight - or rather, this morning - my head is going 60 miles a minute as I try to think this whole thing out. The more I think, the more I just want to go somewhere and talk to someone, which isn't easy to do at 1:33am. Perhaps I will make an effort to reach out tomorrow. It's the start of Easter weekend, which makes me think of love and sacrifice; two things I feel I am in need of.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Groups
Going to a day program can get a bit tiring. I am there for about 6 hours, which is filled with group after group after group. This isn't to say that I am not getting anything out of it, but I come home pretty emotionally drained.
When I go, it is pretty much the same group of people every time. I haven't found anyone to be a horrible person, but there are definitely a few that annoy the living crap out of me. Mostly it's the fakers. Fakers are the people who are in the program, think they know everything, yet consistently disrupt the group with small talk and jokes about drugs. I used to get annoyed with that when I was a youth care worker, but I have to admit to being a bit less judgemental with the teenagers because I don't expect them to magically know everything. Adults are different. I expect them to have some sort of working intellect that leaves them open to learning new things and applying them to their life.
I'm not sure if it makes me judgemental to think this way, but it is the truth. I know I am in the program because I realised that I can't make myself feel better, and do not have any control in my life at this time. I think most of the people in my group are the same way. We just want to know how to live life along with our particular illness.
I also have discovered something else. You see, my parents didn't do the best job teaching me how to deal with life in a crisis stage. I don't think this would be different for me at any age. I could be 50 and still be wondering exactly how I am supposed to act as an adult. So maybe I should cut some of my fellow program goers some slack. It's hard, but maybe I can do it.
Other than the day program, I don't really have a whole lot going on in life. I am waiting to talk with case workers and case managers about getting aid to pay my bills, seeing as my mental illnesses are to the point where they disrupt the way my life functions. I am hoping that I don't have to try for disability or anything like that, because I don't feel disabled; I feel unable to get up and go to a job every day.
I wish I could explain in better detail about how I feel. I've isolated a little by not reaching out to communicate with others. I hate my phone not ringing and not being invited to hang out with others. Thankfully I still have the good ol' platonic life partner and my great Oregonian friend who encourage me and/or give me somewhere to go that isn't my house. Calling other people just feels like admitting defeat; not to mention the guilt I feel for not being a good adult.
That's where I am today. I hope tomorrow is better. I hope that I can start to adjust to all these feelings brought up in group and individual therapy without losing the rest of my mind in the process. Hopefully depression and anxiety take the hint soon that I want them to behave...they just need more training.
When I go, it is pretty much the same group of people every time. I haven't found anyone to be a horrible person, but there are definitely a few that annoy the living crap out of me. Mostly it's the fakers. Fakers are the people who are in the program, think they know everything, yet consistently disrupt the group with small talk and jokes about drugs. I used to get annoyed with that when I was a youth care worker, but I have to admit to being a bit less judgemental with the teenagers because I don't expect them to magically know everything. Adults are different. I expect them to have some sort of working intellect that leaves them open to learning new things and applying them to their life.
I'm not sure if it makes me judgemental to think this way, but it is the truth. I know I am in the program because I realised that I can't make myself feel better, and do not have any control in my life at this time. I think most of the people in my group are the same way. We just want to know how to live life along with our particular illness.
I also have discovered something else. You see, my parents didn't do the best job teaching me how to deal with life in a crisis stage. I don't think this would be different for me at any age. I could be 50 and still be wondering exactly how I am supposed to act as an adult. So maybe I should cut some of my fellow program goers some slack. It's hard, but maybe I can do it.
Other than the day program, I don't really have a whole lot going on in life. I am waiting to talk with case workers and case managers about getting aid to pay my bills, seeing as my mental illnesses are to the point where they disrupt the way my life functions. I am hoping that I don't have to try for disability or anything like that, because I don't feel disabled; I feel unable to get up and go to a job every day.
I wish I could explain in better detail about how I feel. I've isolated a little by not reaching out to communicate with others. I hate my phone not ringing and not being invited to hang out with others. Thankfully I still have the good ol' platonic life partner and my great Oregonian friend who encourage me and/or give me somewhere to go that isn't my house. Calling other people just feels like admitting defeat; not to mention the guilt I feel for not being a good adult.
That's where I am today. I hope tomorrow is better. I hope that I can start to adjust to all these feelings brought up in group and individual therapy without losing the rest of my mind in the process. Hopefully depression and anxiety take the hint soon that I want them to behave...they just need more training.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Practice makes...things easier.
Being a patient in a day program is feeling a bit surreal. I feel as if I have switched places with the girls at the group home I worked at. The only difference is that I am alert and listening, and some are...not very open to what is happening. Oh, and I am in fact finding myself judging, which I really need to stop doing.
This past Friday was my first day there, and I was pretty stoked because I was having terrible side-effects to two newer medications. And trust me, side effects like hallucinations, dry mouth, and confusion are not fun at all. I wasn't having any hardcore hallucinations, it just always seemed like there was something in my peripheral vision. Thankfully the doc pulled me off of those right away, but I'm still waiting for the dry mouth and confusion to go away.
In addition to the day program, I find myself having to attempt to get public assistance for things like rent and the phone bill. I have found that you literally have to jump through flaming hoops to get anything done. That, or pop out a kid. It may sound a little vain, but I worked 3 years in behavioral health and don't have a child that I can't provide for; it seems I should get some kudos for that. It'd be great to hear a worker say, "Hey! Way to go on that whole keeping your legs shut thing! That was a really good idea." In saying this, I know that some people were responsible by using protection that just didn't work...they deserve some kudos as well.
It feels weird going to day treatment every day, and I don't like that I am not working. My poor sisters are stressed to their limits about getting the bills paid, and I might have to ask my dad for money. I want to get better, and apparently this is a part of how to do it. I know what I am supposed to do; it's the action of doing it that seems to be the problem. Practice coping, practice dealing with irritability, learn to live every day of my life with depression. I think I know what that will look like, because Ive faked it before. The interesting thing is going to be how it will make me feel.
I feel that this post is long enough, so I'm going to snuggle with my kitty Luella because she's in a rare snuggle me mood.
This past Friday was my first day there, and I was pretty stoked because I was having terrible side-effects to two newer medications. And trust me, side effects like hallucinations, dry mouth, and confusion are not fun at all. I wasn't having any hardcore hallucinations, it just always seemed like there was something in my peripheral vision. Thankfully the doc pulled me off of those right away, but I'm still waiting for the dry mouth and confusion to go away.
In addition to the day program, I find myself having to attempt to get public assistance for things like rent and the phone bill. I have found that you literally have to jump through flaming hoops to get anything done. That, or pop out a kid. It may sound a little vain, but I worked 3 years in behavioral health and don't have a child that I can't provide for; it seems I should get some kudos for that. It'd be great to hear a worker say, "Hey! Way to go on that whole keeping your legs shut thing! That was a really good idea." In saying this, I know that some people were responsible by using protection that just didn't work...they deserve some kudos as well.
It feels weird going to day treatment every day, and I don't like that I am not working. My poor sisters are stressed to their limits about getting the bills paid, and I might have to ask my dad for money. I want to get better, and apparently this is a part of how to do it. I know what I am supposed to do; it's the action of doing it that seems to be the problem. Practice coping, practice dealing with irritability, learn to live every day of my life with depression. I think I know what that will look like, because Ive faked it before. The interesting thing is going to be how it will make me feel.
I feel that this post is long enough, so I'm going to snuggle with my kitty Luella because she's in a rare snuggle me mood.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Becoming Humble
I am 100% sure that God is trying to teach me humility. Do you want proof? I am in an adult day treatment program. I wasn't forced to, but chose to go on my own. I now will be surrounded every day by people that I have put down or made jokes about before.
See, before I lost my marbles, I used to think that adults that were in and out of the hospital or attending any form of day programming were incapable of taking care of themselves due to very difficult mental illnesses like schizophrenia, on drugs, or just plain stupid. I had never wanted to work with adults with issues because they tended to piss me off. Well, now I'm one of them, and I am feeling the sting of my own habit to judge. So far, after my first day, I am sure that at least 70% of my fellow day residents are there because they want to get better. I fall into the 70%, thankfully.
The humility is coming because I realise that no matter the individual diagnoses I have a lot in common with these people. The first thing I think of is that I have found my life to be unmanageable. I see that there are a lot of reasons for me to be depressed, but I am my biggest reason for being as bad as I am right now because I did not cope the ways I could have. This is not to say that I think my depression is my fault; it's the chemicals in my brain deciding they don't want to do what they should. What I do see is that my depression is something that I can manage a lot better than I have been.
The sort of funny thing is that, having worked in behavioral health, I keep wanting to dole out advice to the others in my group. I know how to handle certain situations, I'm just not very good at motivating to do so. At the same time, I've already learned certain things from the other patients in the program. And they're the people I wouldn't have expected to have any advice I could use in my life. That's when I begin to feel humble.
So instead of judging people or trying to figure out what's wrong with them, I'll try this humble loving thing. I'll keep an open mind and remember that everyone is working on themselves just as I am.
I will, however, be relating funny stories of things that happen. No real names or anything personal of course...damn HIPPA.
See, before I lost my marbles, I used to think that adults that were in and out of the hospital or attending any form of day programming were incapable of taking care of themselves due to very difficult mental illnesses like schizophrenia, on drugs, or just plain stupid. I had never wanted to work with adults with issues because they tended to piss me off. Well, now I'm one of them, and I am feeling the sting of my own habit to judge. So far, after my first day, I am sure that at least 70% of my fellow day residents are there because they want to get better. I fall into the 70%, thankfully.
The humility is coming because I realise that no matter the individual diagnoses I have a lot in common with these people. The first thing I think of is that I have found my life to be unmanageable. I see that there are a lot of reasons for me to be depressed, but I am my biggest reason for being as bad as I am right now because I did not cope the ways I could have. This is not to say that I think my depression is my fault; it's the chemicals in my brain deciding they don't want to do what they should. What I do see is that my depression is something that I can manage a lot better than I have been.
The sort of funny thing is that, having worked in behavioral health, I keep wanting to dole out advice to the others in my group. I know how to handle certain situations, I'm just not very good at motivating to do so. At the same time, I've already learned certain things from the other patients in the program. And they're the people I wouldn't have expected to have any advice I could use in my life. That's when I begin to feel humble.
So instead of judging people or trying to figure out what's wrong with them, I'll try this humble loving thing. I'll keep an open mind and remember that everyone is working on themselves just as I am.
I will, however, be relating funny stories of things that happen. No real names or anything personal of course...damn HIPPA.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Tomorrow we will be having an estate sale for pretty much everything in my grandparents' house. I spent yesterday cleaning off furniture and watching as a price tag was put on things so familiar and dear to me. It did come to me, as I was dusting the computer desk in the blue room, that I really don't want a lot of these things. I got a few items from the house after Grandpa passed, and they are just things that bring back memories of my grandparents.
The funny thing is that even though I have the objects that I do, it doesn't really matter where everything goes. Grandma and Grandpa are gone and have no use for them, and it makes sense to sell them. Yet still, I am sad.
I realised fully, for the first time, that life will be different from here on out. Someone with no relation to me will buy the house. It will not be the safe place it always was. Many things will be changed; the color of the walls, the furniture, and probably the entire kitchen. The new owners will probably not have incense burning in the kitchen all the time, and I am sure they won't have the same smell as Grandma did. The house is already starting to look like an empty shell, and soon I will have no reason to go there.
Thankfully I can remember the both of them, and I have pictures. I think that's better than a dresser set or dining room table any day. I don't like this change, but I haven't liked a lot of changes lately. I'm getting through this though; step by step I seem to be gaining some ground. I will in fact be in an outpatient treatment facility during the days starting tomorrow. It's embarassing, humility inducing, and a bit of hope.
In the words of Ok Go: "Let it go this too shall pass"
The funny thing is that even though I have the objects that I do, it doesn't really matter where everything goes. Grandma and Grandpa are gone and have no use for them, and it makes sense to sell them. Yet still, I am sad.
I realised fully, for the first time, that life will be different from here on out. Someone with no relation to me will buy the house. It will not be the safe place it always was. Many things will be changed; the color of the walls, the furniture, and probably the entire kitchen. The new owners will probably not have incense burning in the kitchen all the time, and I am sure they won't have the same smell as Grandma did. The house is already starting to look like an empty shell, and soon I will have no reason to go there.
Thankfully I can remember the both of them, and I have pictures. I think that's better than a dresser set or dining room table any day. I don't like this change, but I haven't liked a lot of changes lately. I'm getting through this though; step by step I seem to be gaining some ground. I will in fact be in an outpatient treatment facility during the days starting tomorrow. It's embarassing, humility inducing, and a bit of hope.
In the words of Ok Go: "Let it go this too shall pass"
Monday, April 11, 2011
I did what?!
I have been the very picture of a productive person today.
Well, except for the naps and frequent breaks I took, I productively did some work around the house and such. Here's what went down:
1. I woke up at 7:30ish, which I blame on going to sleep at a good time last night.
2. I didn't feel tired when I woke up.
3. I then dressed and went to the store to buy milk and something yummy for breakfast.
4. I ate breakfast, then went to the PLP's to borrow her vacuum as ours is broken.
5. Upon arriving at home, I vacuumed and shampooed the carpet in the entryway.
6. Nap, glorious nap.
7. When I woke up, my sister helped me move around furniture so that I could get my cleaning on. I had to scrub spots and it was wonderfully somewhat difficult. I did finish the dining room and kitchen though. Everything else can be done tomorrow.
I feel pride in what I did today. I didn't just sit on the couch like a dud, oh no. I was on it. I really hope this isn't just one good day in a sea of depressional sorrow, but a show of a little progress. I had energy, and I did something! I really want to hold on to this.
Well, except for the naps and frequent breaks I took, I productively did some work around the house and such. Here's what went down:
1. I woke up at 7:30ish, which I blame on going to sleep at a good time last night.
2. I didn't feel tired when I woke up.
3. I then dressed and went to the store to buy milk and something yummy for breakfast.
4. I ate breakfast, then went to the PLP's to borrow her vacuum as ours is broken.
5. Upon arriving at home, I vacuumed and shampooed the carpet in the entryway.
6. Nap, glorious nap.
7. When I woke up, my sister helped me move around furniture so that I could get my cleaning on. I had to scrub spots and it was wonderfully somewhat difficult. I did finish the dining room and kitchen though. Everything else can be done tomorrow.
I feel pride in what I did today. I didn't just sit on the couch like a dud, oh no. I was on it. I really hope this isn't just one good day in a sea of depressional sorrow, but a show of a little progress. I had energy, and I did something! I really want to hold on to this.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
This morning I find myself doing some hardcore thinking. I've recently been given the offer to move in with a friend in Oregon (well, re-offered). The more I think about it and talk to my friends and loved ones about it, the more it looks like it's going to happen.
It's a scary and exciting possibility. I mean, who wouldn't want to live here?
I'd be living in a town, but great stuff like this isn't far away. In fact, this isn't even the best picture I have. The nature there alone makes me feel closer to God. Not to mention it rains lots there, which I love. My friend there is AHmazing and helps to inspire much happiness in me. Plus as an extra bonus, the only person I am going there to help is myself; which makes it amazingly better than every other time I have tried to leave my state.
But there are things that make me want to stay here, like...
My 12 yr old sister and neice. They are growing so fast!
Then there are my younger older sisters, who are pretty friggin awesome.
Then there are my best friend's children.
There are more things, but I really love these kids and don't want to leave them. It's scary...but then what isn't? Things are still up in the air. I'm glad it's a Sunday so I don't really think about all the things I have to do in a week.
I have no idea what I will decide, but I pray I will make the right choice. I have a couple months to think on it anyway, so I think that will help. And as selfish as it sounds, i would hope if I did leave people would miss me. I'd probably have to learn to return texts and emails a lot quicker than i do now.
More about this later. I started this post 2-3 days ago and hadn't been able to finish it. I'm sure this will take more words to go through.
It's a scary and exciting possibility. I mean, who wouldn't want to live here?
But there are things that make me want to stay here, like...
There are more things, but I really love these kids and don't want to leave them. It's scary...but then what isn't? Things are still up in the air. I'm glad it's a Sunday so I don't really think about all the things I have to do in a week.
I have no idea what I will decide, but I pray I will make the right choice. I have a couple months to think on it anyway, so I think that will help. And as selfish as it sounds, i would hope if I did leave people would miss me. I'd probably have to learn to return texts and emails a lot quicker than i do now.
More about this later. I started this post 2-3 days ago and hadn't been able to finish it. I'm sure this will take more words to go through.
A normal day?
I want to write, but I don't know what to write about! Today was almost a regular day. I woke up late, and did not feel like doing anything at all. I got on the computer and played games, then wanted to go back to bed. On most days, this would be what I would do all day, but it was interrupted.
I had to shower and take one of my younger sisters to the ER. She's good now, but super tired. I made the nurses and physician assistant laugh a lot. My sister was entertained by the different things I was doing to my hair to look "attractive". This longer hair is really helping my silly patern.
Oh, and I tried something new tonight. I had some beer brauts made from Fat Tire. It was nice, considering I can't drink alcohol right now. They were delish, and I carry with me a bit of a grill smell - which I love.
I did make one observation today, and that is that I need to do some more social stuff. I end up at my platonic life partner's house all the time, and I really think she needs a break. So if you're reading this and know me, please invite me places, because otherwise I will sit at home on my rear end.
Ok that's all for tonight. I must go and investigate a noise that is strange and will probably end up being my upstairs neighbors vaccuming their apartment.
*Edit: It was the upstairs neighbors vaccuming.
I had to shower and take one of my younger sisters to the ER. She's good now, but super tired. I made the nurses and physician assistant laugh a lot. My sister was entertained by the different things I was doing to my hair to look "attractive". This longer hair is really helping my silly patern.
Oh, and I tried something new tonight. I had some beer brauts made from Fat Tire. It was nice, considering I can't drink alcohol right now. They were delish, and I carry with me a bit of a grill smell - which I love.
I did make one observation today, and that is that I need to do some more social stuff. I end up at my platonic life partner's house all the time, and I really think she needs a break. So if you're reading this and know me, please invite me places, because otherwise I will sit at home on my rear end.
Ok that's all for tonight. I must go and investigate a noise that is strange and will probably end up being my upstairs neighbors vaccuming their apartment.
*Edit: It was the upstairs neighbors vaccuming.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
What to do, what to do
I am sad and lethargic today, and I don't know why. Nothing bad happened to me yesterday or last night; heck I was even in a bar without anyone I knew for a while (well unless you count my cousin, but he was busy playing music on stage). I'm not going to say I didn't have short spurts of panic, but I did not freak out. For this, I am happy with myself.
I wanted to come on and write something deep and profound, but my mind seems to be working a tad slower while it adjusts to new meds. I might try going out again tonight, even if it means I have to watch people drink crap beer when I am not allowed alcohol. Bastards.
I don't know if I will go out. I know I don't want to go alone.Plus, it's helping me face my fears of being in crowds of people who could potentially judge me and verbally harass me with bad fat jokes.
So should I sleep or face my fears? We shall see....
I wanted to come on and write something deep and profound, but my mind seems to be working a tad slower while it adjusts to new meds. I might try going out again tonight, even if it means I have to watch people drink crap beer when I am not allowed alcohol. Bastards.
I don't know if I will go out. I know I don't want to go alone.Plus, it's helping me face my fears of being in crowds of people who could potentially judge me and verbally harass me with bad fat jokes.
So should I sleep or face my fears? We shall see....
Thursday, March 31, 2011
"It's not the long walk home that will change this heart, but the welcome I recieve with the restart"
It feels like a long time since I last wrote, but in reality it was only a couple weeks.
It's weird how we measure time in a mathematical way. I wrote a new post on March 16 and today is March 31.
31-16 = 15
15 days. 360 hours. 21,600 minutes.
I don't really enjoy math. There's no human element in it; just numbers. I am unsure of how to explain things in time.
In the past 15 days there have been great changes in my life, great changes in myself. If the past 15 days were measured in importance rather than hours or minutes, they would carry with them more meaning than whole years of my life.
My grandfather passed away and was buried the day before my birthday. He died in his home, in the room that he and my grandmother had shared when she was still alive. His family was able to forgive him for wrongs in the past, and love him for the things he did right. Two of his children were with him, and his grandchildren and brother were at the house shortly after.
I learned more about my grandfather the day he died than I had ever known before. His life growing up in West Virginia was hard, but my grandfather showed a good heart. He was protective of his younger brother.
My favorite story was about his nickname, Dewy (I hope I have remembered that right.) It seems that there was a man in town with that name who had a large growth on the side of his head, and all the children picked on him; all except my grandfather. Grandpa was kind to this man. He fought those who put him down and showed the man kindness. I am proud to know this. I am proud to know that dispite my grandfather's shortcomings, he was a good man.
Grandpa died not remembering a lot. His brain had shrunk, leaving him helpless in his last days. Yet before this happened, he bacame more involved in his church. I feel that my grandfather is now outside of time. His soul is with his Savior, and he is now in a place with no more tears.
The grief I have felt has been hard. I spent another seven days in the hospital for inpatient psychiatric care. I had suicidal thoughts, and had come up with a plan. I did not want to be on earth where there was pain. I wanted to be where there were no more tears. Yet now I am glad that I did not follow through with my plan, that I sought help instead. I am meant to live my life until it is meant to end, and the choice to end it will not be mine.
After all of this, I want to change the name of this blog. I do not feel that I am functioning in a broken way, but functioning in a human way. I am not having a fresh start, but restarting with the hope of reaching a better place. I don't know what this will look like, and it is someone scary. It's a fear that I will have to face.
I don't know what will happen when I experience less depression, but I know that it will be better. I don't know how I will feel when I lose weight, but I hope I can stay away from bitterness if men find me more attractive. I don't know what being more responsible will bring, but I can look on it as an adventure.
So now...we will see where things go from here.
*The title of this post is a line from a Mumford and Sons song.
It's weird how we measure time in a mathematical way. I wrote a new post on March 16 and today is March 31.
31-16 = 15
15 days. 360 hours. 21,600 minutes.
I don't really enjoy math. There's no human element in it; just numbers. I am unsure of how to explain things in time.
In the past 15 days there have been great changes in my life, great changes in myself. If the past 15 days were measured in importance rather than hours or minutes, they would carry with them more meaning than whole years of my life.
My grandfather passed away and was buried the day before my birthday. He died in his home, in the room that he and my grandmother had shared when she was still alive. His family was able to forgive him for wrongs in the past, and love him for the things he did right. Two of his children were with him, and his grandchildren and brother were at the house shortly after.
I learned more about my grandfather the day he died than I had ever known before. His life growing up in West Virginia was hard, but my grandfather showed a good heart. He was protective of his younger brother.
My favorite story was about his nickname, Dewy (I hope I have remembered that right.) It seems that there was a man in town with that name who had a large growth on the side of his head, and all the children picked on him; all except my grandfather. Grandpa was kind to this man. He fought those who put him down and showed the man kindness. I am proud to know this. I am proud to know that dispite my grandfather's shortcomings, he was a good man.
Grandpa died not remembering a lot. His brain had shrunk, leaving him helpless in his last days. Yet before this happened, he bacame more involved in his church. I feel that my grandfather is now outside of time. His soul is with his Savior, and he is now in a place with no more tears.
The grief I have felt has been hard. I spent another seven days in the hospital for inpatient psychiatric care. I had suicidal thoughts, and had come up with a plan. I did not want to be on earth where there was pain. I wanted to be where there were no more tears. Yet now I am glad that I did not follow through with my plan, that I sought help instead. I am meant to live my life until it is meant to end, and the choice to end it will not be mine.
After all of this, I want to change the name of this blog. I do not feel that I am functioning in a broken way, but functioning in a human way. I am not having a fresh start, but restarting with the hope of reaching a better place. I don't know what this will look like, and it is someone scary. It's a fear that I will have to face.
I don't know what will happen when I experience less depression, but I know that it will be better. I don't know how I will feel when I lose weight, but I hope I can stay away from bitterness if men find me more attractive. I don't know what being more responsible will bring, but I can look on it as an adventure.
So now...we will see where things go from here.
*The title of this post is a line from a Mumford and Sons song.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Waiting for Death
For the first time in my life, I feel what C.S. Lewis meant when he said,"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." He wrote this during a circumstance in his life that was quite different from my current position, but my feeling is rather similar. The only difference I would note is that currently my grief feels like panic.
Grandpa P. was put on hospice care on Monday night. He is in his home being watched over by his family, while morphine and anti-anxiety medications have replaced the medications that were keeping his dimensia at bay. He is not eating, he cannot talk, and the noise he is making is referred to as a death rattle. We have been told that he will pass away anywhere from 5-15 days after he stops eating and drinking. Due to his illness most, if not all, of the family has made it clear to him for a couple years that we love him. Shortly after he was diagnosed with dimensia he made his peace with those around him. My more recent memories of him, before he took a turn for the worse after my grandmother's death last year, were of making him laugh and knowing that I was able to bring him joy. They are good memories, and I am very thankful to have them.
Even though we've known this was coming and are now just making Grandpa comfortable, I find that I still feel somwhat unprepared for all of this. It is like something dark is hanging over my head just waiting to descend. Now that I have a definate time period for when I am to expect Grandpa to die...it's just waiting. It's as if I know the date of the end of the world and there is a panic mixed with a want to give up on everything. Everything seems as if it is in a suspended state of animation.
Also, I feel angry; then I feel guilty for feeling angry. I was having a wonderful day yesterday until the news came. I was actually happy, genuinely happy. Now I feel as if I have taken massive steps back and I'm right back into the cycle of depression and panic. And I'm lonely. I want, selfishly, to be held and comforted by someone who is not in the same situation I am in. I want something good to battle the sadness that is threatening to overwhelm me. Thankfully three of my good friends have been able to at least provide an ear, and a little beer as well, which has helped to keep me somewhat level in my emotions.
At the end of all these thoughts has come the decision to sit with my grandpa for a while tomorrow, and a little every day until he goes. After that, who knows; yet I feel some comfort in the unknown right now.
Grandpa P. was put on hospice care on Monday night. He is in his home being watched over by his family, while morphine and anti-anxiety medications have replaced the medications that were keeping his dimensia at bay. He is not eating, he cannot talk, and the noise he is making is referred to as a death rattle. We have been told that he will pass away anywhere from 5-15 days after he stops eating and drinking. Due to his illness most, if not all, of the family has made it clear to him for a couple years that we love him. Shortly after he was diagnosed with dimensia he made his peace with those around him. My more recent memories of him, before he took a turn for the worse after my grandmother's death last year, were of making him laugh and knowing that I was able to bring him joy. They are good memories, and I am very thankful to have them.
Even though we've known this was coming and are now just making Grandpa comfortable, I find that I still feel somwhat unprepared for all of this. It is like something dark is hanging over my head just waiting to descend. Now that I have a definate time period for when I am to expect Grandpa to die...it's just waiting. It's as if I know the date of the end of the world and there is a panic mixed with a want to give up on everything. Everything seems as if it is in a suspended state of animation.
Also, I feel angry; then I feel guilty for feeling angry. I was having a wonderful day yesterday until the news came. I was actually happy, genuinely happy. Now I feel as if I have taken massive steps back and I'm right back into the cycle of depression and panic. And I'm lonely. I want, selfishly, to be held and comforted by someone who is not in the same situation I am in. I want something good to battle the sadness that is threatening to overwhelm me. Thankfully three of my good friends have been able to at least provide an ear, and a little beer as well, which has helped to keep me somewhat level in my emotions.
At the end of all these thoughts has come the decision to sit with my grandpa for a while tomorrow, and a little every day until he goes. After that, who knows; yet I feel some comfort in the unknown right now.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Fear
It's been a day full of anxiety. It usually doesn't take anything big to trigger my panic; something as small as a fleeting comment is enough to get my heart racing and my head spinning. Usually I try to pretend that nothing is happening and take my thoughts to a different area, but today it was hard. What tipped the scales today was something small indeed; a seconds long commercial letting me know that a cable channel would be showing something called Nostradamus 2012 this evening.
You see, even though I am a Christian who believes that God is everything good, I am terribly afraid of the end times. It isn't something new. I've been scared of this since I was young. I don't like to think of the pain and suffering of some, and the biggest fear is that God will say that He never knew me because I didn't believe or do enough.
The earliest memories I have of feeling this fear involve trying to avoid looking at any magazine covers when at the grocery store with my parents. One look at a Weekly World News cover was enough to make my stomach turn. The first legitimate panic attack I can remember was when I was in my early teens and saw some news special covering a woman who had psychic premonitions of catastrophic world events happening in 1996. Then there were the ridiculous talks that certain relatives had about stockpiling goods in preparation for the year 2000. I was afraid of that one despite the fact that I knew it to be a ridiculous conspiracy theory type thing, but it didn't make my fear go away. The most recent one, before the 2012 hubub, was talking with ignorant people sharing with me an email they had received revealing that Obama would be the antichrist if elected. I knew this to be the product of racism and ignorance, but still had fear.
Now, with this newest fear of the end, I am well aware that it is based on faulty history at best. I've talked with my dad about it, seeing as he knows more about both history and the bible than I do, and he assures me that I shouldn't be afraid of any certain day. I myself know that the bible says no one will know the day or hour. Even with all this knowledge, my irrational fear is no less real. It seems as though I cannot avoid the references to this year, this date.
There's a part of me that doesn't want to miss out on anything. I feel like there is a lot of life that I have yet to experience. I want to finish something, to succeed, to realize dreams. It sort of fits in with the idea that I would not be good enough for God to take in the end. It's something I had recently discussed in therapy, and know to be an insecurity based on falsehoods, but the thoughts still come on certain days...like today. I would like it to be enough to motivate me into doing the things I want or need to do, but fear has never been a great motivator for me.
I think that what I need to fight fear with is love. I need to get back to church, back into a feeling of community. I don't know why it seems so hard to do, but I've been away for much too long. Now I just need to decide whether to stay with the church my sisters attend, with all the emotional pain it reminds me of, or go church shopping. I think I'll type through that one tomorrow.
You see, even though I am a Christian who believes that God is everything good, I am terribly afraid of the end times. It isn't something new. I've been scared of this since I was young. I don't like to think of the pain and suffering of some, and the biggest fear is that God will say that He never knew me because I didn't believe or do enough.
The earliest memories I have of feeling this fear involve trying to avoid looking at any magazine covers when at the grocery store with my parents. One look at a Weekly World News cover was enough to make my stomach turn. The first legitimate panic attack I can remember was when I was in my early teens and saw some news special covering a woman who had psychic premonitions of catastrophic world events happening in 1996. Then there were the ridiculous talks that certain relatives had about stockpiling goods in preparation for the year 2000. I was afraid of that one despite the fact that I knew it to be a ridiculous conspiracy theory type thing, but it didn't make my fear go away. The most recent one, before the 2012 hubub, was talking with ignorant people sharing with me an email they had received revealing that Obama would be the antichrist if elected. I knew this to be the product of racism and ignorance, but still had fear.
Now, with this newest fear of the end, I am well aware that it is based on faulty history at best. I've talked with my dad about it, seeing as he knows more about both history and the bible than I do, and he assures me that I shouldn't be afraid of any certain day. I myself know that the bible says no one will know the day or hour. Even with all this knowledge, my irrational fear is no less real. It seems as though I cannot avoid the references to this year, this date.
There's a part of me that doesn't want to miss out on anything. I feel like there is a lot of life that I have yet to experience. I want to finish something, to succeed, to realize dreams. It sort of fits in with the idea that I would not be good enough for God to take in the end. It's something I had recently discussed in therapy, and know to be an insecurity based on falsehoods, but the thoughts still come on certain days...like today. I would like it to be enough to motivate me into doing the things I want or need to do, but fear has never been a great motivator for me.
I think that what I need to fight fear with is love. I need to get back to church, back into a feeling of community. I don't know why it seems so hard to do, but I've been away for much too long. Now I just need to decide whether to stay with the church my sisters attend, with all the emotional pain it reminds me of, or go church shopping. I think I'll type through that one tomorrow.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Single annoyances
I am convinced that there is nothing more annoying than waiting for the person you are pining after to contact you in some way. It's like a form of torture. I've never had to deal with anything that is actually defined as torture, but I'm fairly sure that if you want to get information from an enemy all you need to do is let them contact a crush a few times, then sit back and watch them lose their mind while waiting a week or more for the other person to contact them. They'd crack like an egg in a beater.
It's not even about seeing the object of your affection; you just want them to seek you out in some way. A phone call, email, anything on facebook, it doesn't matter how they communicate or what they say - you just need some indication that they think of you at all.
I think it would be easier if I knew anything about how flirtation and interest works. I am completely unable to tell on my own if a man is interested in me, and will therefore ask my friends what they think. Being my friends, they often tell me that the man is probably interested...which hasn't been the case for more years than I care to admit in a public venue. The best friendly advice I probably ever had was to sit back and just let happen what will, which would work if I were patient. As it is, I have declared my infatuation, "strong feelings", and even love to men who had absolutely no romantic interest in me whatsoever. A person can only do that so many times until you get so gun shy that you become a vegan pacifist who wants guns outlawed.
Though it has only been a little over a week, I am teetering on the edge of once more laying my pride on the line, taking the initiative, and letting the man know how I feel. My plan is to say something along the lines of, "If you ever wanted to ask me out on a date, I wouldn't be opposed to it. I'm cool if you don't though, because I like to be your friend and would most of all like that to continue." It would probably come out very awkward and with about a hundred words added to it, but I would definately get my point across in a somewhat acceptable manner. The thing keeping me in check is the hope that I can get over it on my own so that I don't hurt the friendship, but it doesn't seem to be working very well. Maybe his lack of seeking me out is a passive way of showing he isn't interested. Maybe he's just not interested. It's just so fucking annoying to not know for certain.
Please, someone, let me know that you find this annoying as well; I need some empathy for what is eerily close to teenage angst.
It's not even about seeing the object of your affection; you just want them to seek you out in some way. A phone call, email, anything on facebook, it doesn't matter how they communicate or what they say - you just need some indication that they think of you at all.
I think it would be easier if I knew anything about how flirtation and interest works. I am completely unable to tell on my own if a man is interested in me, and will therefore ask my friends what they think. Being my friends, they often tell me that the man is probably interested...which hasn't been the case for more years than I care to admit in a public venue. The best friendly advice I probably ever had was to sit back and just let happen what will, which would work if I were patient. As it is, I have declared my infatuation, "strong feelings", and even love to men who had absolutely no romantic interest in me whatsoever. A person can only do that so many times until you get so gun shy that you become a vegan pacifist who wants guns outlawed.
Though it has only been a little over a week, I am teetering on the edge of once more laying my pride on the line, taking the initiative, and letting the man know how I feel. My plan is to say something along the lines of, "If you ever wanted to ask me out on a date, I wouldn't be opposed to it. I'm cool if you don't though, because I like to be your friend and would most of all like that to continue." It would probably come out very awkward and with about a hundred words added to it, but I would definately get my point across in a somewhat acceptable manner. The thing keeping me in check is the hope that I can get over it on my own so that I don't hurt the friendship, but it doesn't seem to be working very well. Maybe his lack of seeking me out is a passive way of showing he isn't interested. Maybe he's just not interested. It's just so fucking annoying to not know for certain.
Please, someone, let me know that you find this annoying as well; I need some empathy for what is eerily close to teenage angst.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The lure of the hermit
I haven't been feeling well over the past couple of weeks, and my mind hasn't been in the right state for writing. It has been in the right state for thinking though, and lately my thoughts have been centered around what it would be like to become a hermit.
I've always liked the hermit characters in movies and books. They have a mystery and a strength to them that seems to come from their ability to live with no one but themselves and God. I often am jealous that I do not have the ingenuity to live off small odd jobs and the land, away from society and the difficulty of relationships with humans. I imagine there would be a wonderful freedom that came with not having to keep a steady job and maintain society's views on what "normal" or "acceptable" are.
Coming in second to life as a hermit is live as a nun. Nuns get to help people without worrying that they don't have enough money to cover their rent or car payment; they simply make their living by serving God, the church, and their community. And who looks down on a nun for not being married or having children? No one.
It is usually at this point when I encounter a few problems. First off, I am not Catholic, so the nun thing is completely out of the question. I've been to some Catholic services, and I just can't agree that the Pope is infallible...he's just a man. This always makes me try to come up with a way to start an organization of Protestants and Evangelicals who would like to begin some convents and monk houses (or whatever the right term is). The plan begins to form in my mind, but ends when I realize how much time it would take, and I remember that I need to pay more attention to a career that will help me pay my rent.
So it comes back to hermit-ville. I spent a few minutes looking up the word hermit on Google and Wikipedia, and it turns out that modern hermits do not fit in with my rustic, dirty, animal skin wearing hermit ideal. It would appear that modern hermits live in country and city, and are often connected to others both online and in person. It was not a pleasant thing for me to realize.
See, my romantacized view of the hermit's life had men and women becoming hermits because life had given them a raw deal; someone had hurt my hermits, their families had all died and left them alone, or their manners and behaviors were against the norm and they and to flee from the people around them. My sweet misunderstood hermits learned to live close with nature, kill animals humanely, and have a wize view of the world God made. Sadly, todays hermits are simply people who choose a life of solitude for "spiritual reasons." They even connect through a newsletter. Hermits with a newsletter...what is this world coming to! And they have regular jobs as well. Boo.
If being a hermit no longer involves learning how to skin and cook a squirrel I just don't want to be a part of it. So despite practicing for the long haul by isolating myself as best I could while living with two sisters, having friends and family that still contact me despite my selfish ignoring of them, and sleeping for very long hours, I have realized that the hermit's life is not for me. I will never have long, curly hair that is terribly tangled and kept out of my face by a rope made from weeds while I prepare a deer for drying before winter. Maybe I'll take up fishing instead.
In the meantime, my familial relationships are getting a lot better, and it seems that people are wanting to help me despite my efforts at being a loveless and lazy slob. I am realizing that though I am incapable of taking care of myself, I am not a waste of time; I am just human.
I've always liked the hermit characters in movies and books. They have a mystery and a strength to them that seems to come from their ability to live with no one but themselves and God. I often am jealous that I do not have the ingenuity to live off small odd jobs and the land, away from society and the difficulty of relationships with humans. I imagine there would be a wonderful freedom that came with not having to keep a steady job and maintain society's views on what "normal" or "acceptable" are.
Coming in second to life as a hermit is live as a nun. Nuns get to help people without worrying that they don't have enough money to cover their rent or car payment; they simply make their living by serving God, the church, and their community. And who looks down on a nun for not being married or having children? No one.
It is usually at this point when I encounter a few problems. First off, I am not Catholic, so the nun thing is completely out of the question. I've been to some Catholic services, and I just can't agree that the Pope is infallible...he's just a man. This always makes me try to come up with a way to start an organization of Protestants and Evangelicals who would like to begin some convents and monk houses (or whatever the right term is). The plan begins to form in my mind, but ends when I realize how much time it would take, and I remember that I need to pay more attention to a career that will help me pay my rent.
So it comes back to hermit-ville. I spent a few minutes looking up the word hermit on Google and Wikipedia, and it turns out that modern hermits do not fit in with my rustic, dirty, animal skin wearing hermit ideal. It would appear that modern hermits live in country and city, and are often connected to others both online and in person. It was not a pleasant thing for me to realize.
See, my romantacized view of the hermit's life had men and women becoming hermits because life had given them a raw deal; someone had hurt my hermits, their families had all died and left them alone, or their manners and behaviors were against the norm and they and to flee from the people around them. My sweet misunderstood hermits learned to live close with nature, kill animals humanely, and have a wize view of the world God made. Sadly, todays hermits are simply people who choose a life of solitude for "spiritual reasons." They even connect through a newsletter. Hermits with a newsletter...what is this world coming to! And they have regular jobs as well. Boo.
If being a hermit no longer involves learning how to skin and cook a squirrel I just don't want to be a part of it. So despite practicing for the long haul by isolating myself as best I could while living with two sisters, having friends and family that still contact me despite my selfish ignoring of them, and sleeping for very long hours, I have realized that the hermit's life is not for me. I will never have long, curly hair that is terribly tangled and kept out of my face by a rope made from weeds while I prepare a deer for drying before winter. Maybe I'll take up fishing instead.
In the meantime, my familial relationships are getting a lot better, and it seems that people are wanting to help me despite my efforts at being a loveless and lazy slob. I am realizing that though I am incapable of taking care of myself, I am not a waste of time; I am just human.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Notes from "past me" and Above
When I was fifteen I lived a sort of double life. On the one side I had my home and school life, which I hated. I was taking care of my pregnant mother, who did not seem concerned that I often missed school to stay home with her, and planning my school schedule around when I could get away to go to the park and smoke. The other side of my life was my church life. I would try to do devotionals and read my bible so that I could go to camp and be a part of the mission trip. I wanted desperately to fit in with the happy teenagers at youth group who got good grades and had happy home lives. They all seemed perfect and I wanted to do anything for them to accept me.
As is usually the case, one side of life will eventually win over the other. The church side lost for a short time. As I aged I became angrier about my life and decided to try to run away from it. I was pissed at God because His people didn't love me and he hadn't bettered my life situation. I was sure I could do better on my own, and for a while it seemed that I did.
Flash forward to now. I'm not angry at God anymore for my situation, but the habit I formed of trying to better myself on my own terms has been a hard one to break. Instead of praying about decisions, I think them over for a while and say a last minute prayer while my decision is already being formed in my head. Instead of spending time meditating on God's word, I let my mind wander where it will and to what it will. I know that this way of doing things doesn't work; seeking God's direction and spending time with Him has been something that has helped me more in the past than anything else. Yet going on my own strength is a hard habit to break, especially in the last three years, when i was sure that I was finally becoming able to "take care of myself".
I recently decided to finish reading a book that I had never finished called "The Problem of Pain" by C.S. Lewis. While skimming the book, I found various passages that I had underlined on previous tries at reading it. One such marked passage was marked with a bus transfer from 2007. I read the passage, and I felt a piercing ache in my chest. It was like the passionate and trusting me sending a message to the vulnerable and lost me. It's somewhat long, but I will quote it here now. It is found in Chapter 6 (Human Pain). Lewis has already discussed Divine Omnipotence, Divine Goodness, Human Wickedness, and The Fall of Man; he has established that God is all-knowing, the source of goodness, and that man is fallen and in need of saving. Hopefully with that short set-up, the following passage will make sense. I have underlined the portions and words that I had underlined in 2007.
"If the first and lowest operation of pain shatters the illusion that all is well, the second shatters the illusion that what we have, whether good or bad in itself, is our own and enough for us. Everyone has noticed how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We 'have all we want' is a terrible saying when 'all' does not include God. We find God an interruption. As St Augustine says somwhere, 'God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full - there's nowhere for Him to put it.' Or as a friend of mine said, 'We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it's there for emergencies but he hopes he'll never have to use it.' Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as He leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call 'our own life' remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him. What then can God do in our interests but make 'our own life' less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness? It is just here, where God's providence seems at first to be most cruel, that the Divine humility . the stooping down of the Highest, most deserves praise. We are perplexed to see misfortune falling upon decent, inoffensive, worthy people - on capable mothers of families or diligent, thrifty little tradespeople, on those who have worked so hard, and sho honestly, for their modest stock of happiness and now seeem to be entering on the enjoyment of it with the fullest right. How can I say with sufficient tenderness what here needs to be said? It does not matter that I know I must become, in the eyes of every hostile reader, as it were, personally responsible for all the suffereings I try to explain - just as, to this day, everyone talks as if St Augustine wanted unbaptised infants to go to Hell. But it matters enormously if I alienate anyone from the truth. Let me implore the reader to try to believe, if only for the moment, that God, who made these deserving people, may really be right when He thinks that their modest prosperity and the happiness of their children are not enough to make them blessed; that all this must fall from them in the ende, and that if they have not learned to know Him they will be wretched. And therefore He troubles them, warning them in advance of an insufficiency that one day they will have to discover. The life to themselves and their families stands between them and the recognition of their need; He makes that life less sweet to them. I call this a Divine humility because it is a poor thing to strike our colours to God when the ship is going down under us; a poor thing to come to Him as a last resort, to offer up 'our own' when it is no longer worth keeping. If God were proud He would hardly have us on such terms: but He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is 'nothing better' now to be had. The same humility is shown by all those Divine appeals to our fears which trouble high-minded readers of Scripture. It is hardly complimentary to god that we should choose Him as an alternative to Hell: yet even this He accepts. The creature's illusion of self-sufficiency must, for the creature's sake, be shattered; and by trouble or fear of trouble on earth, by crude fear of the eternal flames, God shatters it 'unmindful of His glory's diminution'. those who would like the God of Scripture to be more purely ethical, do not know what they ask. If God were a Kantian, who would not have us till we came to Him from the purest and best motives, who could be saved? And this illusion of self-sufficiency may be at its strongest in some very honest, kindly, and temperate people, and on such people, therefore, misfortune must fall."
I know not everyone will find this as encouraging as I have, nor get as much hope from it as I did. When thinking about what he says here and linking it to different bible passages I know, I am filled with awe that the creator of the universe is willing to accept me and comfort me even after I have turned to anything and anyone but Him; that the very one who deserves my praise is willing to lower himself and love my pitiful cries for grace and mercy.
Now, go and read anything by C.S. Lewis, because the man was a very gift to humans.
As is usually the case, one side of life will eventually win over the other. The church side lost for a short time. As I aged I became angrier about my life and decided to try to run away from it. I was pissed at God because His people didn't love me and he hadn't bettered my life situation. I was sure I could do better on my own, and for a while it seemed that I did.
Flash forward to now. I'm not angry at God anymore for my situation, but the habit I formed of trying to better myself on my own terms has been a hard one to break. Instead of praying about decisions, I think them over for a while and say a last minute prayer while my decision is already being formed in my head. Instead of spending time meditating on God's word, I let my mind wander where it will and to what it will. I know that this way of doing things doesn't work; seeking God's direction and spending time with Him has been something that has helped me more in the past than anything else. Yet going on my own strength is a hard habit to break, especially in the last three years, when i was sure that I was finally becoming able to "take care of myself".
I recently decided to finish reading a book that I had never finished called "The Problem of Pain" by C.S. Lewis. While skimming the book, I found various passages that I had underlined on previous tries at reading it. One such marked passage was marked with a bus transfer from 2007. I read the passage, and I felt a piercing ache in my chest. It was like the passionate and trusting me sending a message to the vulnerable and lost me. It's somewhat long, but I will quote it here now. It is found in Chapter 6 (Human Pain). Lewis has already discussed Divine Omnipotence, Divine Goodness, Human Wickedness, and The Fall of Man; he has established that God is all-knowing, the source of goodness, and that man is fallen and in need of saving. Hopefully with that short set-up, the following passage will make sense. I have underlined the portions and words that I had underlined in 2007.
"If the first and lowest operation of pain shatters the illusion that all is well, the second shatters the illusion that what we have, whether good or bad in itself, is our own and enough for us. Everyone has noticed how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We 'have all we want' is a terrible saying when 'all' does not include God. We find God an interruption. As St Augustine says somwhere, 'God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full - there's nowhere for Him to put it.' Or as a friend of mine said, 'We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it's there for emergencies but he hopes he'll never have to use it.' Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as He leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call 'our own life' remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him. What then can God do in our interests but make 'our own life' less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness? It is just here, where God's providence seems at first to be most cruel, that the Divine humility . the stooping down of the Highest, most deserves praise. We are perplexed to see misfortune falling upon decent, inoffensive, worthy people - on capable mothers of families or diligent, thrifty little tradespeople, on those who have worked so hard, and sho honestly, for their modest stock of happiness and now seeem to be entering on the enjoyment of it with the fullest right. How can I say with sufficient tenderness what here needs to be said? It does not matter that I know I must become, in the eyes of every hostile reader, as it were, personally responsible for all the suffereings I try to explain - just as, to this day, everyone talks as if St Augustine wanted unbaptised infants to go to Hell. But it matters enormously if I alienate anyone from the truth. Let me implore the reader to try to believe, if only for the moment, that God, who made these deserving people, may really be right when He thinks that their modest prosperity and the happiness of their children are not enough to make them blessed; that all this must fall from them in the ende, and that if they have not learned to know Him they will be wretched. And therefore He troubles them, warning them in advance of an insufficiency that one day they will have to discover. The life to themselves and their families stands between them and the recognition of their need; He makes that life less sweet to them. I call this a Divine humility because it is a poor thing to strike our colours to God when the ship is going down under us; a poor thing to come to Him as a last resort, to offer up 'our own' when it is no longer worth keeping. If God were proud He would hardly have us on such terms: but He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is 'nothing better' now to be had. The same humility is shown by all those Divine appeals to our fears which trouble high-minded readers of Scripture. It is hardly complimentary to god that we should choose Him as an alternative to Hell: yet even this He accepts. The creature's illusion of self-sufficiency must, for the creature's sake, be shattered; and by trouble or fear of trouble on earth, by crude fear of the eternal flames, God shatters it 'unmindful of His glory's diminution'. those who would like the God of Scripture to be more purely ethical, do not know what they ask. If God were a Kantian, who would not have us till we came to Him from the purest and best motives, who could be saved? And this illusion of self-sufficiency may be at its strongest in some very honest, kindly, and temperate people, and on such people, therefore, misfortune must fall."
I know not everyone will find this as encouraging as I have, nor get as much hope from it as I did. When thinking about what he says here and linking it to different bible passages I know, I am filled with awe that the creator of the universe is willing to accept me and comfort me even after I have turned to anything and anyone but Him; that the very one who deserves my praise is willing to lower himself and love my pitiful cries for grace and mercy.
Now, go and read anything by C.S. Lewis, because the man was a very gift to humans.
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