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.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Death's Anniversary
Yesterday marked one year since my grandfather passed away. I was going to write a post about it yesterday, but all the emotions were raw and I had no idea how to put everything into words.
I started out my day getting ready for work and did not realize what the day was until I looked at my phone after showering. Somehow seeing the date was like reliving the phone call saying he had died, and an even deeper ache was felt upon realizing that an entire year had passed without his physical presence on earth.
I selfishly wish my grandfather were still here. I say selfishly, because I know that his last two years were a struggle for him. He was always an active man who was able to care for himself, his family, and reach out to those around him; I can't imagine how he must have felt when his lungs betrayed him by growing scar tissue where healthy tissue should have been.
I also wish i could tell him things. I want to tell him how much I love him. He may have known that, but I will never be sure. I don't think he knew how much I looked up to him. Everything was right with the world as long as grandpa was a phone call away. I dreaded every disappointing him, and every time I did it was like ripping out one of my own organs. He gave help and I gave an outer appearance of apathy.
I still want to please him, even though I know that he is no longer on this earth. I believe that he was welcomed into his Father's house with open arms, hearing the words "Well done, good and faithful servant." My grandfather has no more tears and is in the presence of pure love. I have no reason to be sad for him, as he has no reason to be sad himself. My sorrow is for myself and those of us left behind, and yesterday I wanted nothing more than to yield to it completely.
Thankfully a part of our grandfather passed on to our family, and my sisters convinced me that it would be good to go and spend time with my grandma and dad. So after visiting grandpa's grave, then my other grandma's grave as they are in the same cemetery, I binged on some taco bell, pulled myself together, and spent time with family. We didn't talk about grandpa, as we all knew where our thoughts were. We were just together...and it was enough.
So maybe people are sometimes the answer to depression. Sometimes you just need the presence of someone whose feelings, in some ways, mirror your own. I know it helped grandma, and I know it helped me.
This makes one down, and another to go. Come April I will repeat similar emotions for my grandmother who also passed last year. I am willing to bet there will be both slight and vast differences in the methods of coping.
I started out my day getting ready for work and did not realize what the day was until I looked at my phone after showering. Somehow seeing the date was like reliving the phone call saying he had died, and an even deeper ache was felt upon realizing that an entire year had passed without his physical presence on earth.
I selfishly wish my grandfather were still here. I say selfishly, because I know that his last two years were a struggle for him. He was always an active man who was able to care for himself, his family, and reach out to those around him; I can't imagine how he must have felt when his lungs betrayed him by growing scar tissue where healthy tissue should have been.
I also wish i could tell him things. I want to tell him how much I love him. He may have known that, but I will never be sure. I don't think he knew how much I looked up to him. Everything was right with the world as long as grandpa was a phone call away. I dreaded every disappointing him, and every time I did it was like ripping out one of my own organs. He gave help and I gave an outer appearance of apathy.
I still want to please him, even though I know that he is no longer on this earth. I believe that he was welcomed into his Father's house with open arms, hearing the words "Well done, good and faithful servant." My grandfather has no more tears and is in the presence of pure love. I have no reason to be sad for him, as he has no reason to be sad himself. My sorrow is for myself and those of us left behind, and yesterday I wanted nothing more than to yield to it completely.
Thankfully a part of our grandfather passed on to our family, and my sisters convinced me that it would be good to go and spend time with my grandma and dad. So after visiting grandpa's grave, then my other grandma's grave as they are in the same cemetery, I binged on some taco bell, pulled myself together, and spent time with family. We didn't talk about grandpa, as we all knew where our thoughts were. We were just together...and it was enough.
So maybe people are sometimes the answer to depression. Sometimes you just need the presence of someone whose feelings, in some ways, mirror your own. I know it helped grandma, and I know it helped me.
This makes one down, and another to go. Come April I will repeat similar emotions for my grandmother who also passed last year. I am willing to bet there will be both slight and vast differences in the methods of coping.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Melancholy Sunday
The melancholy of yesterday followed me into today...as did some dizziness. I'm fairly certain that I have consumed my weight in water to prevent any dehydration, and have spent most of the day sitting on my ass. I also had to call into work once more, which makes four times in three weeks. Needless to say I am not feeling like a winner.
I don't know many ways of coping with depression. Self-motivating is obviously hard when you don't consider moving being worth any time or energy and could quite frankly care less if you were to melt into the furniture and cease to exist. I know that I can fake it a bit; my humor and wit can sneak out in little cracks if I exert a large amount of force, but the feeling of wanting to melt into my surroundings remains the same. I often fall short of lifting the shadows on my own.
When I was a teenager I used to fantasize that someone would come and make it possible for me to see nothing but sunshine and roses all the time. I imagined that my life would be like a country song that was on the radio then; a man would fall in love with me and his love would transform me into the woman I was meant to be, the end result being that everyone would see the beautiful creature hidden beneath my morose and garish exterior.
That was roughly 12 years ago, and I now see my fantasy for the unreachable dream it is. I learned from my one romantic relationship that it is not possible for anyone to transform me, and I learned from my own spiritual searching that if I was to be in any way transformed it would be through the love and care of Christ. You would think that this knowledge would completely dispel the need to spend minutes or hours dreaming of my very own avenger confessing his love and thereby making everything better, but it hasn't. That damn dream still comes quite frequently in various forms.
As far as romantic love is concerned, I fear that it will be something very hard for me to attain. The first and foremost reason for this is due to the fact that I have met very few people who are willing to take that treacherous first step in giving an attraction to me a chance. This thought usually occurs when I think of my fears of being "too much" of something, and therefore undesirable; on very bad days I blame it solely on my weight. When considering my personality, which I think is pretty amazing most days, I wonder if there is anyone in my life who shares my views on what romantic love entails or looks like.
I don't believe in any sort of love at first sight, but I know that lust and simple animal attraction can happen instantaneously. I believe that love is something that sort of grows and comes on in time. It surpasses first glances and takes root in things shared between two souls. When I think of men I have been attracted to, it was never quickly; words can make or break how my initial judgement of a person is used. I believe the average length of time for me to form an attachment to a man is three conversations, and at least two of them must carry some weight. This may be why I think that committment comes from the beginning, because you have to commit to even giving attraction, let alone love, a chance. There is an impulsive component to it in the fact that once the decision is made, something must happen. Stagnation is a poor bedfellow. Once attraction is given a chance to occur, it will either be nurtured by both parties to grow and thrive into something more, or will quickly blossom, wilt, and die. Attraction, and afterwards love, is a choice that involves a sort of marriage of emotion and reason. It isn't something that will merely take care of itself, but needs to be given care.
I've heard it said that men are visually stimulated when it comes to attraction (which I see used as a disgusting excuse in this day and age of sexual attraction being the main ingredient to dating, love, mariage, and so forth), so perhaps my views will only be shared by women. If this is the case, it saddens me and adds to my depression; I cannot believe it is so.
Once again, I find myself holding to hope. Perhaps this is the motivator that keeps me from becoming part of a couch, table, or chair. In every situation, even if I'm sprawled out while bemoaning that I can't see an end to the struggle, I know inside that there is hope.
Before I go, you should know that the ramble on relationships was due to a talk with the PLP today about rules and regulations we would have to draw up for any future dating partners about our relationship, so as to prevent any confusion. I wish I had a transcript of the entire conversation. It was a bright point of an otherwise cloudy minded day. Oh, and don't try to read "Wuthering Heights" when you're already depressed, because all the main characters in that book are crazy stupid.
I don't know many ways of coping with depression. Self-motivating is obviously hard when you don't consider moving being worth any time or energy and could quite frankly care less if you were to melt into the furniture and cease to exist. I know that I can fake it a bit; my humor and wit can sneak out in little cracks if I exert a large amount of force, but the feeling of wanting to melt into my surroundings remains the same. I often fall short of lifting the shadows on my own.
When I was a teenager I used to fantasize that someone would come and make it possible for me to see nothing but sunshine and roses all the time. I imagined that my life would be like a country song that was on the radio then; a man would fall in love with me and his love would transform me into the woman I was meant to be, the end result being that everyone would see the beautiful creature hidden beneath my morose and garish exterior.
That was roughly 12 years ago, and I now see my fantasy for the unreachable dream it is. I learned from my one romantic relationship that it is not possible for anyone to transform me, and I learned from my own spiritual searching that if I was to be in any way transformed it would be through the love and care of Christ. You would think that this knowledge would completely dispel the need to spend minutes or hours dreaming of my very own avenger confessing his love and thereby making everything better, but it hasn't. That damn dream still comes quite frequently in various forms.
As far as romantic love is concerned, I fear that it will be something very hard for me to attain. The first and foremost reason for this is due to the fact that I have met very few people who are willing to take that treacherous first step in giving an attraction to me a chance. This thought usually occurs when I think of my fears of being "too much" of something, and therefore undesirable; on very bad days I blame it solely on my weight. When considering my personality, which I think is pretty amazing most days, I wonder if there is anyone in my life who shares my views on what romantic love entails or looks like.
I don't believe in any sort of love at first sight, but I know that lust and simple animal attraction can happen instantaneously. I believe that love is something that sort of grows and comes on in time. It surpasses first glances and takes root in things shared between two souls. When I think of men I have been attracted to, it was never quickly; words can make or break how my initial judgement of a person is used. I believe the average length of time for me to form an attachment to a man is three conversations, and at least two of them must carry some weight. This may be why I think that committment comes from the beginning, because you have to commit to even giving attraction, let alone love, a chance. There is an impulsive component to it in the fact that once the decision is made, something must happen. Stagnation is a poor bedfellow. Once attraction is given a chance to occur, it will either be nurtured by both parties to grow and thrive into something more, or will quickly blossom, wilt, and die. Attraction, and afterwards love, is a choice that involves a sort of marriage of emotion and reason. It isn't something that will merely take care of itself, but needs to be given care.
I've heard it said that men are visually stimulated when it comes to attraction (which I see used as a disgusting excuse in this day and age of sexual attraction being the main ingredient to dating, love, mariage, and so forth), so perhaps my views will only be shared by women. If this is the case, it saddens me and adds to my depression; I cannot believe it is so.
Once again, I find myself holding to hope. Perhaps this is the motivator that keeps me from becoming part of a couch, table, or chair. In every situation, even if I'm sprawled out while bemoaning that I can't see an end to the struggle, I know inside that there is hope.
Before I go, you should know that the ramble on relationships was due to a talk with the PLP today about rules and regulations we would have to draw up for any future dating partners about our relationship, so as to prevent any confusion. I wish I had a transcript of the entire conversation. It was a bright point of an otherwise cloudy minded day. Oh, and don't try to read "Wuthering Heights" when you're already depressed, because all the main characters in that book are crazy stupid.
Hard Days and Lonely Nights
I had quite the day today. After a near fainting episode during a nosebleed, then a trip to the emergency room, my thoughts are wandering towards loneliness. I realise that this may seem odd, and that my thoughts should be more centered around my health and so on, but I can't help but be stuck in the emotional zone.
After I fell today, I had a time of confusion and did not know who to call. I called my sister, who was at work, only to find out that pretty much all of my people I contact in an emergency were at work. Finally it was my mother who was sent to pick me up and take me to the emergency room. Obviously, this was not my ideal situation. Of all the people I could have chosen to be there with me, my mother was definitely at the bottom of the list..a very short list.
There are very few people that I let into my confidence, and I found myself making a couple phone calls to people I normally would not talk to when feeling as vulnerable as I was. Now that I have done this, the only thing I can think of is those people now leaving.
A consistent fear that I have is of people thinking I am too much to handle, too emotional, too weird, too anything, and deciding that my presence in their life is something they can go without. I don't know where this fear comes from, probably from high school isolation or something, but it is one that I have struggled with. This isn't a nice feeling to have, and right now I am fighting the impulse to make more phone calls with explanations for my vulnerability, gibberish about why I feel and act the way I do, and pleading for their remaining presence in my life. It doesn't help that my core group of people are out celebrating my PLP's birthday while I continue to hydrate and rest.
So I'm lonely. I want someone to see my weakness and hold me to lend me some of their strength. People say I am strong, but it doesn't always feel that way. I need people, I need care, and I need a fair amount of affection.
This post was more of a rambling than a well put together stream of thought, but my mind is moving much faster than my fingers. Hopefully this feeling will be gone by the morning, and I can happily go to work and have a good day. In the meantime, I will try to distract myself from this feeling I can't handle. There is always the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
After I fell today, I had a time of confusion and did not know who to call. I called my sister, who was at work, only to find out that pretty much all of my people I contact in an emergency were at work. Finally it was my mother who was sent to pick me up and take me to the emergency room. Obviously, this was not my ideal situation. Of all the people I could have chosen to be there with me, my mother was definitely at the bottom of the list..a very short list.
There are very few people that I let into my confidence, and I found myself making a couple phone calls to people I normally would not talk to when feeling as vulnerable as I was. Now that I have done this, the only thing I can think of is those people now leaving.
A consistent fear that I have is of people thinking I am too much to handle, too emotional, too weird, too anything, and deciding that my presence in their life is something they can go without. I don't know where this fear comes from, probably from high school isolation or something, but it is one that I have struggled with. This isn't a nice feeling to have, and right now I am fighting the impulse to make more phone calls with explanations for my vulnerability, gibberish about why I feel and act the way I do, and pleading for their remaining presence in my life. It doesn't help that my core group of people are out celebrating my PLP's birthday while I continue to hydrate and rest.
So I'm lonely. I want someone to see my weakness and hold me to lend me some of their strength. People say I am strong, but it doesn't always feel that way. I need people, I need care, and I need a fair amount of affection.
This post was more of a rambling than a well put together stream of thought, but my mind is moving much faster than my fingers. Hopefully this feeling will be gone by the morning, and I can happily go to work and have a good day. In the meantime, I will try to distract myself from this feeling I can't handle. There is always the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Reunited and it feels so good
I was going to check the last date that I blogged so that I could say exactly how long it has been, but I forgot and decided not to go back. I do know that I have been off of here for a while. It was for good reason; I got a job and have been pretty busy with that. Also, I found a school I decided to apply for and have been filling out the necessary paperwork and going to the appointments. As far as making some plans for the future, I'm doing fairly well.
However, with the good comes a little bit of the bad. My current work schedule required that I miss the appointment I had with my new therapist as well as my psychiatrist. These aren't good things, especially seeing as my psychiatrist keeps me medicated. Yet, I think I miss the therapy more.
I actually enjoy therapy in a strange way. I admit that I don't always like the emotions that come up during sessions, but I like learning ways to deal with my specific issues. I have behaviors that I need to change, and I am more than aware of the fact that pills don't change behaviors.
So I'm thinking about being my own therapist in the interim. I know that you aren't supposed to self medicate, but I haven't heard anything about not teaching yourself how to change your behaviors. I have some tools that I can use, including handouts and a binder from my former therapist containing different coping skills and ways to name and deal with different emotions. I could work on those during the time that I am waiting to get an appointment.
I am also depending a lot on my best friend, the before mentioned PLP, to help me talk things out and remember to use certain skills. She's doing a good job, but I don't want this dependence on her to go on for too long and find her burnt out. Therefore, I am going to need to spread out the talk and do things with people who aren't her. I'm not talking about cutting her out of my life (I know you read this PLP) and I will still spend a large amount of time with her...but I don't think it's the best idea to put all my crazy in one basket.
So that's my plan for now, and we'll see how it works. Hopefully I will fit blogging into my new schedule better, as I have had tons of ideas for different things to write about with new experiences coming my way. Stay tuned...I promise for more to come.
However, with the good comes a little bit of the bad. My current work schedule required that I miss the appointment I had with my new therapist as well as my psychiatrist. These aren't good things, especially seeing as my psychiatrist keeps me medicated. Yet, I think I miss the therapy more.
I actually enjoy therapy in a strange way. I admit that I don't always like the emotions that come up during sessions, but I like learning ways to deal with my specific issues. I have behaviors that I need to change, and I am more than aware of the fact that pills don't change behaviors.
So I'm thinking about being my own therapist in the interim. I know that you aren't supposed to self medicate, but I haven't heard anything about not teaching yourself how to change your behaviors. I have some tools that I can use, including handouts and a binder from my former therapist containing different coping skills and ways to name and deal with different emotions. I could work on those during the time that I am waiting to get an appointment.
I am also depending a lot on my best friend, the before mentioned PLP, to help me talk things out and remember to use certain skills. She's doing a good job, but I don't want this dependence on her to go on for too long and find her burnt out. Therefore, I am going to need to spread out the talk and do things with people who aren't her. I'm not talking about cutting her out of my life (I know you read this PLP) and I will still spend a large amount of time with her...but I don't think it's the best idea to put all my crazy in one basket.
So that's my plan for now, and we'll see how it works. Hopefully I will fit blogging into my new schedule better, as I have had tons of ideas for different things to write about with new experiences coming my way. Stay tuned...I promise for more to come.
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