One Word 365 Recap and Thoughts on 2017 - part 2

(If you missed it, click here for part 1)

I didn't connect this struggle of faith with hopelessness until one very dark afternoon while waiting in the carpool line at my daughters' school. I had been struggling through several very days of dark moods when my friend Chez, who had been very concerned about me when I stopped talking to him, called me on the phone as I sat waiting for school to get out. He suggested to me that what I was feeling with regard to God sounded like hopelessness and I knew at once that he was right. I realised when he said it that I had cringed at the sound of the word and that I'd been actively avoiding using that word. I knew that the painful, gaping hole inside me was there because of a lack of hope. You would think that knowing this might help, but it only seemed to make it worse. I sank deeper into despair and grew more and more disconnected from my faith and, subsequently, from any desire to continue living.

To make a long story short, a flicker of light appeared in March of 2015. That's when I attended a Lenten ladies' devotion at our parish that was led by our family's beloved friend, Fr. B. After the devotion ended and everyone was chatting and nibbling on snacks, I went to say hello to Fr. B as it had been a good year or so since we'd seen each other. After our initial hellos, he asked how I was. I didn't want to burden him with my troubles, but something in the tone of his voice when he asked the question reminded me that he is more than just a priest, but a dear friend. That reminder of our treasured friendship undid my resolve and any attempt at trying to pretend I was "just fine" completely crumbled. In a choked up voice, I told him that things were hard and I'd had much better. He looked at me with such compassion that I felt myself start to cry a little bit. He handed me a napkin, gave me a hug, and said he'd be praying for me. That alone was a priceless gift, but then he told me to send him an email and we'd get together at his parish and pray about it. I did just that and a week or so later, we met together.

I'll admit that at that first meeting, I wasn't very keen on the idea of praying at all and told Father as much. He understood and before insisting that we pray anyway, he heard my confession and gave me the anointing of the sick. After those two sacraments, we began to pray -- or rather he prayed. I sat beside him and as the words of the prayers washed over me, the dam burst and I bawled like a baby. When Father finished praying, we talked briefly while I wiped my face and then we walked over to the main church and he gave me communion before leaving me there by myself to pray.  As I knelt there in the church, a sense of calm stole over me that I hadn't felt in a very long time. I had promised Father that I would stay for at least 10 minutes, but somewhere in the midst of that silence, 10 minutes stretched into an hour without my even noticing it.

After that meeting, we began to meet regularly, about 1-2 times a month for spiritual direction and prayer and over time, that increased to weekly at times based on my need (and his schedule) along with keeping in close touch by email as well. What grew out of those spiritual direction meetings was a very slow and very tenuous renewed relationship with God. In the past year and a half, there have been moments when I have wondered if what I was feeling stir within me was a spark of hope, but every time I have felt this -- whatever this is -- it has gone as quickly as it came, snuffed out by fear, PTSD triggers, or the circumstances of life. I have longed for hope to return and it has remained elusive and also something that I simply cannot bring myself to believe that I will ever have again.

And yet.....here we are and it's time to choose another word for the year and I'm being nudged by the Holy Spirit to choose "hope" as my word for 2017. I felt this insistent nudge about a week or so ago and immediately refused to entertain the idea. I've continued to feel it since then and every time I have shut the idea down so fast that if it had a head, it would spin. Nope. Nope. Nope. BIG old NOPE. Think of Dana Carvey's impersonation of George H. W. Bush where he says, "Nope, not gonna do it. Wouldn't be prudent at this juncture." That's basically where I'm at right now.

The Holy Spirit even went so far as to nudge me to mention this idea to Pendragon during our last session and to Gray last night. Obviously, Pendragon didn't push me and neither did Gray, but I know that both of them would be encouraged if I did decide to take the plunge and make "hope" my word for this coming year. The thing is, I can't do it because of how I know it would make them feel. If I chose this for any reason other than a desire within myself, I think it would be a miserable failure.

And yet....and yet this nudge is persistent. Do you know how I know this nudge is from the Holy Spirit? It's because everything within me -- every instinct, every gut reaction, every fiber of my being -- is screaming at the top of its voice, "Noooooooooooooo!!!!" and as much as I want to ignore this nudge to do it, I simply can't. It's not that it's louder than my own voice, but that it's just as loud and inexhaustibly, relentlessly determined not to let me wiggle or headbutt my way out of this.

So here I am on the edge of 2016 becoming 2017, still resisting and still scared. I know I need to just bite the bullet, say "Okay" and make the commitment, but for whatever reason, I just can't. Then why write this long essay about words and this subject? Because I needed to write it and because I know that despite not beginning the new year with a new word, this isn't over yet. It's only just beginning.

In the meantime, pray for me. God knows that not only did I need to write this, but that I need to do it too and only He can help me find the courage to plumb the depths of this virtue and learn how to find it, embrace it, and allow it to grow in my heart once again.

One Word 365 Recap and Thoughts on 2017

Eleventh Doctor: Vincent, can I help?
Vincent van Gogh: It is so clear you cannot help. And when you leave, and everyone always leaves, I will be left once more with an empty heart and no hope.
Eleventh Doctor: My experience is that there is, you know, surprisingly, always hope.

*****************

I'm not gonna lie y'all. It was a rough year for me personally. It was also a year that turned my world upside down in a way that was really difficult (and still is to a great degree), but that will, I think, eventually wind up being positive. The jury is still out on that, but my therapist Pendragon said something at our most recent session on Thursday that he hasn't said in a long time. Actually, he used a word that he hasn't dared to use in a long time -- but more on that later.

A couple of years ago I discovered this thing called One Word 365. Basically, the idea is that you select a word for the year to be a kind of focus word, if you will, that you allow to influence and change you mentally/emotionally, physically, or spiritually. For 2015, I chose two words because as much as I tried, I couldn't shake the idea that I needed to embrace both of them -- write and follow. The first one was chosen because I had just come off the 2014 Write 31 Days challenge in October and I wanted to commit myself to writing in my blog more regularly and keeping up with it instead of just throwing it to the side. In the two years that have been since, I've had ups and downs, but I think I've managed to write at least one entry each month and some months, more than one. That may not seem like much, but it's a start. I chose "follow" as a word because I was struggling spiritually with wanting to follow after Christ. I've spent pretty much my entire life following Christ, but had gone through a trauma so severe that it had shaken my faith to the deepest levels. I wanted a reminder of what I had always done and that I knew deep down that I still wanted to do -- follow Him.

For 2016, I kept my 2015 words and added a third -- move. In 2015, I participated in my first ever Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk and struggled physically much more than I wanted to do. After only completing about 1.5 miles of the total 18, I felt defeated and I knew that although I had emotionally been struggling, I wasn't in the physical shape I needed or wanted to be either. I also knew that I needed to lose weight and make some changes to better my health, so I decided that a good first step would be to start moving more. To that end, I joined a local gym so that I could start walking and lifting some weights and in April, I got a Fitbit tracker to help motivate me to take more steps each day. I can't say that I suddenly became a fitness fanatic, but I did get more steps in this year and as a result, I lost a little weight and got in a little better shape. This year I completed 7 miles of the 18 during the Out of the Darkness Overnight walk and that was with the addition of taking a nasty tumble and mildly injuring myself. So although it wasn't a hugely different year with regard to fitness, it was a better year than the one before it and it is the beginning of a journey that I'm going to continue this year.

Speaking of this year, I suppose it's time to tell you about what happened the other night in Pendragon's office. You see, out of deference to how much he knows I've struggled with it, there is a word that he has studiously avoided using for the most part over the last three and a half years. He knows how much this word has caused me anguish and buckets of tears. He knows how many hours I've spent in his office talking around this word, afraid to even breathe it aloud. Because of that, he hasn't pressed me on it, but during our conversation on Thursday, he went out on a limb and said that he felt like the things I've been learning with my psychologist Dr. D have been beneficial and that the fact that I've been able to use those skills is a good reason for hope.

Hope.

I have to be honest. Just typing that scares the heck out of me. I have been scared for almost four years to have hope. It is to the point that in the beginning, I couldn't make myself utter the word aloud, not even in its more common sense (like "I hope you have a great birthday."), much less talk about it in any depth or use the word in its theological sense. A lot of my reluctance to talk about it has come from the fact that part of the theological sense of it has to do with trusting God. For someone who has trusted God her whole life, that ought to be easy, but trauma has a funny way of changing the most fundamental things about a person in ways that he or she never thought possible.

You see, the trauma that I endured and the PTSD that came about as a result of it also created a deep pit of anger within me and a quite a lot of that anger was directed towards God. I felt deserted by Him in my greatest hour of need, despite having cried out to him amidst the ordeal I went through. It was as though He had vanished completely. The silence was deafening and the sense of His presence which had always been so real to me, was gone so completely it was as though I had never felt it at all. The combination of the trauma itself plus feeling so completely abandoned by God shook my faith so much that for a very long time, I wanted nothing to do with God or even anything associated with God in any way. It got so bad that I eventually began to doubt my faith and struggle with the temptation to turn away from God completely.

(Please click here for part 2.)

The Big Lie of Mental Illness

One of the most difficult things about living with a mental illness and trying to manage it is trying to recognize what is true and real versus what is a lie. On the surface, that sounds like a silly statement because most people have a pretty firm grasp on reality in their day to day lives. I mean, they know that the sky is blue, that the grass is green, that people need oxygen to live, that gravity keeps us all rooted to the ground, etc. These are more general truths and easier to see. The harder things are the more specific and personal realities. That's where mental illness likes to lie and convince you to swallow those lies.

To outsiders, these lies are very obvious. For example, a person struggling with bulimia or anorexia hears the frequent lie that they are fat, obese, or overweight. For those who are outside of that disease, it is very easy to see that the person struggling with the eating disorder is either a healthy weight or underweight, but it's not so easy if you're the one struggling with it. You may stand in front of the mirror and try to convince yourself that it's a lie and that you need to eat to stay alive, but the illness has lied to you so often and so loudly, that it's almost all you can hear about yourself.
Depression lies. Bipolar lies. PTSD lies. No matter the illness, they all lie.

While each illness has lies that are specific to it, many of the lies that mental illness tells tend to overlap between the various illnesses:

• "You're worthless."
• "No one cares about you."
• "You'll never get through this."
• "You shouldn't need help. You should be stronger than this."
• "He/she only stays with you out of guilt, not love."
• "This is hopeless."
• "You are alone in this."

I want to address that last one -- "You are alone in this." I think this is one of the single biggest lies that pretty much transcends every mental illness. You feel as though no one has ever gone through what you are going through or that no one you know has any idea of the pain you feel. You may feel physically alone because of a lack of support via family or friends or trained professionals. You may feel spiritually alone as though God has abandoned you or as though no one in your faith community understands what you're going through (and sadly, many people of faith still believe mental illness is something that can be prayed away or is the result of demons or sin). You may feel isolated due to your living situation -- living alone, living in a rural area, having no family or friends close by to help.

Here's the truth about this lie -- you are NOT alone. Let me repeat that. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. If I can convince you of one thing, I hope it's this. I know that it sounds simplistic and perhaps a bit like I'm trying to make light of your feelings, but trust me. I've been there and I know how fierce this lie is and how easy it is to believe it.

I've heard this lie (and many others) more times than I can count. When I was in so much pain and the feelings of being so totally alone were so strong, it made believing this lie as easy as hearing it. I've believed it so fiercely that I have done things that were detrimental to my mental health and that only made my illnesses worse. I would isolate myself, stop reaching out to others, hide my pain from those closest to me, and slowly drown in my feelings to the point that the pain was more than I could bear and suicide became an option that I not only considered but actively planned.

So what changed?

Well, for one, it took my big brother Chez knocking me over the head several times with his own particular way of phrasing things. Every time he heard some expression of my feelings of being totally alone, he would firmly, but kindly tell me that "feelings are not an accurate barometer of reality." In other words, our feelings about things don't always tell us the truth. The reality is that I am surrounded with people that care deeply for me -- including Gray, my kids, Pendragon, Sif, Rikert, Fr. B, and my big brother Chez -- who all want the best for me and that best includes improved mental health. But feelings are strong and this wasn't an easy or fast change. In fact, it took not only Chez's admonitions and support, but also various supports from Gray, psychological help from Pendragon, and Fr. B's prayers and support. Most of all, it took me making a conscious decision to believe that I wasn't alone so that I could reach out to those people when I felt most alone.

Let me be clear -- that conscious decision didn't erase my feelings or the lie that pounded through my head. Far from it. If anything, there were times that the lie grew much louder and more difficult to fight against and the feelings of loneliness grew stronger along with the temptations to let go, sink into despair, and embrace suicide. In many ways, once I made that conscious decision, the fight actually got harder because that decision meant that I was suddenly having to trust people and be really vulnerable with them in ways that I hadn't before.

One of the biggest hurdles was to learn how to totally let down my walls and be 100% vulnerable with Gray. It wasn't that I didn't trust him before, but rather that I was scared of hurting him with all my pain. You see, the depression and PTSD had lied to me that if I was totally honest with him, he would get scared and have me locked up somewhere or that he would just decide that he couldn't handle "my crazy" and leave altogether.

Because I believed these lies for a long time, I struggled violently and almost daily with wanting to kill myself. The feelings were so intense that there were more than a few times that I made a suicide plan and intended to carry it out. The only person I was reaching out to at that point was Chez. You see, it's easier to be vulnerable with someone who lives 2000 miles away (although I kept some things from Chez too). Thanks be to God though, Chez cares enough about me that after trying to convince me to talk to Gray and running into a brick wall, he went around the wall to Gray directly and told him to talk to me. That was a very hard conversation to have and one that I fought having. In the end, it took several marital sessions and a lot of help from Pendragon (in those sessions and my individual ones) to help me work through my fears and be completely vulnerable with Gray.

In the interest of being completely candid, I still have moments when I struggle with being totally vulnerable and honest with Gray, Pendragon, and Chez too. It's much easier these days than it used to be, but every now and then when things get really dark and I feel alone, I want to isolate myself from everyone again. Instead of giving into those temptations and feelings though, I fight back. I reach out instead of being quiet. I talk to those in my support team -- Gray, Pendragon, Fr. B, and Chez primarily -- and I talk to them honestly. It's not always an easy thing to do either, but then fighting against yourself never is easy.

Gray and I still do marital sessions with Pendragon on a regular basis. Those sessions help a lot. They give us a place to talk through our struggles when they arise, to vent about a difficult week, to strategise when things are tough, and to continue to work on communicating with each other. As I often tell people, it's not that our marriage is in dire straits, but rather that given the nature of my illness, we want as much help as we can get.

Notice that I said "we" rather than "I" in the previous sentence. That's because another thing these marital sessions have accomplished is to more solidly unify Gray and myself into that "one flesh" that is spoken of by Jesus. We are a team in this. I no longer have to fight this alone. That's the thing about mental illness and the big lie that "you are alone in this." It not only convinces that you are alone, but that you must fight it alone, but that's a big fat lie as well.

You are not alone and you don't have to fight it alone. Even if you feel alone as you read this, know this one thing: you have me. Yes, me. See that red square button on the right hand side of this page? It's the one that says "Email The Momma." If you feel alone, all you have to do is click that button and send me an email. I promise that I'll write back.

If you need someone to connect with sooner than I am able to get back to you, you can pick up the phone and make a call. I know that's hard to do sometimes, but you can do it. I believe in you! If there's no one that you feel comfortable calling, then call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). You don't have to be suicidal or in a severe crisis to call them. Just dial the number. You can also click the link I provided and chat with them via the internet if you'd rather talk that way. Both the hotline and the crisis chat are available 24 hours a day/7 days a week.

One other option if you have a cell phone and live in the USA is the Crisis Textline. It's super easy to use. All you have to do is text the word "Start" to the number 741741. When you do, a crisis counselor will text you back quickly and talk with you about whatever is on your heart. I have not personally used this resource, but have heard wonderful things about it. If you want more information on it, just click the link above.

The big lie that "you are alone in this" is a hard one to overcome and a hard one to convince yourself to fight against, but it IS doable. Remember: feelings are fickle and not an accurate indicator of what is true and your feelings WILL lie to you about this, but now that you know, you can fight. Reach out for help if you need it. You've got this!

P.S. Lest anyone reading this thinks I've got it all figured out, I want to assure you that I don't. I wrote most of this yesterday (7/13/2016) and I got hit with the big fat lie of being alone today. I was physically alone, but my illness came along and tried to convince me that in my moment of struggle that no one cared and that I was absolutely alone. It smacked me over the head like a sledgehammer. I felt weak and struggled for a solid hour before I finally gathered enough wherewithal to remember that my feelings were lying to me. I wrestled with this lie for a good hour before I managed to remember that Gray was just a text message away and that I could reach out to others. That action of reaching out eventually quelled the lie (after some time and some prayer too), but it shook me a bit. As strong as I've gotten and as much as I've learned, I can still fall prey to this vicious lie. I don't tell you this so that you lose hope, but just to be transparent with you. The hope in this is that I remembered that this is a lie and I overcame it. You can too!

Monday Joys - July 4th, 2016

My friend Tara over at Praying on the Prairie does this weekly post called Sunday Blessings where she recaps her week by counting her blessings. They can be really big things like an answered prayer or small things like a text from a friend. I've long enjoyed reading her posts and have thought about doing something similar but have yet to hit upon a way that I want to do it. Well, today being July 4th and having had a pretty good day, I got sort of reflective in my Facebook status update. As I was rereading what I'd written, it occurred to me that all of the things I had listed were little blessings. That's when it hit me that the way I want to do this is try and list my little joys each week. As I was considering this post, it occurred to me that a good reason to try to start getting into the habit of doing this each week and doing it on Mondays rather than Sundays is twofold:

• Depression and PTSD often make it hard for me to see anything as joyful, even when it is. Doing this each week may help me be more mindful as I go about my week of the times when joy shines into the cracks of my day to day life. 
• Mondays are a day that I dread for a number of reasons. I have hated them since I was a child. Mondays mean that you either have to go to school or work or if you're like me and you're a stay at home mom, it means you're alone with the kids and no adult conversation or interaction. It's often a big downer after the weekend and especially so if you've had a really awesome weekend or are coming off a fun vacation. I guess the thought is if I sort of refocus my Mondays a bit by listing the previous week's joys and blessings, that it won't be quite as onerous.

I can't promise that my list will be nearly as long as Tara's is each week, but I can promise that there will be little joys. So, without further ado, here's the first installment of Monday Joys!

1. A vox from my friend Tara - so good to hear her voice. I've been missing her!

2. A long chat with my first cousin J. We talked for a good two and a half hours! It was like old times and I can't wait to do it again.

3. My weekly spiritual direction meeting with my priest, Fr. B. This week was very hard, but Father was so patient, gentle, and compassionate with me. He also reminded me of some very important things -- one of which is that he's always praying for me, Gray, and our family.

4. Fr. B gave me a second class relic of St. Brother André Bessette! He said for me to "hold onto it", so I'm not sure if he means me to keep it for good, but even if not, I am honoured to keep it for a time. St. Brother André was known for having a gift of healing in this life and his intercession as a saint has been attributed to numerous miraculous healings and cures.

5. A 30 minute long aromatherapy deep tissue massage on Thursday following my appointment with Dr. D for EMDR. My body had been so tense from all the stresses of the week (very rough week emotionally and spiritually) that I needed to have all those knots worked out. I hadn't planned on doing it, but I think my guardian angel must have nudged me in that direction because I suddenly had the idea and knew that I just had to do it. It was AMAZING. After the massage, I had a complimentary steam shower which was such a refreshing thing in and of itself. I actually had a cool shower but enjoyed steam coming from the vents and the combination of that with the massage left me feeling so totally relaxed and calm. It was nice to feel all clean on my drive home too!

6. Panera Bread's blood orange lemonade is, quite simply, THE BOMB. I could drink it several glasses of it every single day. With the mercury in the mid to upper 90s and the humidity so heavy that you feel like you're walking through a steaming oven, it's the perfect way to help you cool off, quench your thirst, and re-energize. Yes, it's a little pricey (about $2.19-2.59, depending on size) but if you're like me and you want more than one glass, it's worth it because the refills are FREE. I highly recommend a big glass of it paired with the Green Goddess Cobb Salad with Chicken for a light and refreshing lunch or dinner when it's too hot to cook or you just want something filling, but not too heavy. I recommend the lemonade all by itself as well!

7. Hamburgers made and grilled by my hubby Gray for our 4th of July repast. I enjoyed mine with sliced tomatoes, sharp cheddar cheese, dill pickle chips, mayo and ketchup. YUM!

8. This afternoon M2 decided to put on one of the digital music channels that comes w/our satellite package. She chose "classic rock" and soon the house was filled with The Eagles, Lynard Skynard, The Beatles, Three Dog Night, and Queen, among others. She and her sisters jammed out and I grabbed our littlest girl, GB, and tried to teach her some dance moves. That evolved into her sisters wanting to dance with me too and pretty soon we were all swaying, twirling, and grooving to the beat. The best was when "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night came on. SO much fun!

9. As it's the 4th of July, some fireworks were in order. AB had spotted some leftover fireworks from last year in our garage about a week ago and was chomping at the bit to light them off tonight. I stepped out to one of the local fireworks sellers and bought a few sparklers, some cherry snappers (those paper snaps you throw at the pavement), bottle rockets, and a package of really pretty fireworks that came with their own mortar to use for launching them. The girls had fun with the sparklers and the cherry snappers and we all enjoyed the bottle rockets and other fireworks. We also enjoyed the fireworks being set off by our neighbours down the street, around the corner, and about two streets over as they lit up the sky.

10. Dessert tonight was yummy -- store bought apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream. Simple, classically American, and just perfect!

11. Bedtime prayers tonight with my girls were a quiet kind of comfort.

12. Sitting in the grass with GB in my lap and her big sisters snuggled close while we watched the fireworks made my heart swell with love.

13. All the excitement of getting ready to see all my girlfriends this coming weekend at our every other year "retreat." I know these gals from an online community and consider many of them dear friends. It will be so wonderful to see all their faces again and hug their necks and chat and giggle until our voices are hoarse.

14. The blessing of my big brother Chez and my friend Rikert who are always so good to pray for me when I need it. I am so thankful for them both and their support.

15. The fun of the Thursday night Five Minute Friday Twitter party. I wasn't as active this week, but I always enjoy hanging with that community and chatting about our week.

16. For M2 who leaned over after communion on Sunday as I knelt crying (as I frequently do) and said, "Momma, I just had the thought that I should pray for you, so I prayed and asked God to give you some good sleep and no bad dreams. I realised that I hadn't really prayed for you like that before and that I should, so I did. I'm sorry I didn't before now." That caused even more tears as I leaned over, kissed the top of her head, and embraced her in a hug. I told her how much I appreciated that. Her sweet tender heart just bowls me over sometimes and this was definitely one of those moments.

I guess that's all for this week. With any luck, next Monday, I'll be back to do it all over again. Until then...

Five Minute Friday: Rest

It's been a while, but here I am again, joining in with the Five Minute Friday community at Kate Motaung's blog, Heading Home. If you're interested in seeing what this is all about, just click here for the details. If you'd like to check out this week's prompt word and the posts from the rest of the community over at Kate's, click here. The link up is at the bottom of the page just below Kate's contribution to this week's prompt word.......

REST

I haven't been writing much in this blog over the last couple of months and the biggest reason is that I needed some rest. It sounds a bit silly to say it like that because, if anything, the last couple of months have been less than restful. They've been arduous, restless, painful at times, busy, and even joyous too.

So where is the rest?

It's certainly not in my bed. Insomnia is my ever constant companion and seems to pull at me no matter how physically exhausted I may be. I do get some sleep, but it's not enough and the nightmares that have plagued me for so long continue largely unabated.

The rest I've been seeking has been found in simplifying my daily routine as much as possible so as to eliminate stresses. I've been purposefully taking breaks from social media at times. I've taught myself to avoid reading about topics that add to my stress levels -- like politics, harrowing stories of violence, etc. I'll admit that I'm not totally good at that, but I've been really trying because it helps. As much as I enjoy writing in this blog, I was starting to feel a bit of pressure to write here and that was adding to my stress. So I let it go. I've written a couple of brief update posts just to let people know that I'm still alive and kicking, but other than that, I've not really written much at all.

When I started blogging and making my blog public, I worried about how many comments I got and what people thought and how many hits there were, but all of that changed last fall. Last September 29th, I almost killed myself. I had a night when I plunged as deep as I've ever been in a long time. The darkness hit me so fast and so heavy that I might have been a stone cast into a lake that is sinking fast. An almost three hour appointment with Pendragon slowed my descent somewhat, but not enough. It took another three and a half hours on the phone with my brother Chez to halt things and start bringing me back up to the surface. It was another three days before I was breathing more easily again.

The whole experience jolted something within me and caused me to realise that I had narrowly escaped death. It made me reassess the important things and overhaul my day to day life so that it was more focused on self-care, survival, and recovery from this episode of depression. I stopped worrying about hits and comments. I started doing everything I could to minimize stress. Admittedly, when you've been living your life for a long time in a certain way, it's hard to make those changes, but I knew I had it to do if I didn't want another night like that one.

I tried to keep blogging at a rate of one post or two per week, but it was much harder than I wanted it to be and often, the inspiration just didn't come. When a week or two would go by, I felt guilty about not doing better at it. Guilt is not a friend to recovery from depression. In fact, it makes things worse because it feeds the cycle of self-recrimination that many people with depression tend to fall into where they beat themselves up for not being good enough or being worthless. I fell into that over and over again when it came to this blog. I kept telling myself that I just wasn't good enough and no one cared about anything I was writing. It certainly felt that way to me. Then I'd let it go for a while and feel guilty about not writing. I tried writing devotions on the Psalms, but after about 18 days of doing that, I couldn't keep it up. I had no energy for it and despite the fact that I had committed to God that I would do it, I just couldn't make myself. I'm still feeling bad about that, to be honest.

So after several months of fighting within myself about the blog, I let it go.

I decided to take a rest from it.

In the past couple of months, I've had some inspirations, but nothing that really prodded me to write. Lately though I've been working on a couple of things. One of these is a post about my trip to New York City which was three weeks ago. That's been a harder one than I expected to write because I want to tell every little detail, but I'm afraid that anyone who reads here might decide that it's too long or that he needs a rest in the middle. Editing myself, if you can't tell, is not my strong suit.

So I've been trying to rest from writing for a bit. I've needed it. PTSD is a hard illness to deal with and having a diagnosis and going through specific treatment for it is harder still. It is, to steal a phrase from the British, rather a lot to be getting on with. I would like to say that I'm back, but I know the reality is that for a while yet, I'm going to need to rest as much as I can. At best, I can say that I'll be sporadic, but I'll try to write whenever the inspiration strikes.

For now though, it's time to end this post and rest.

Five Minute Friday: Whole

It's been a few weeks since I've joined up with the Five Minute Friday community, so if this gets a little rambly, y'all bear with me, okay? I'm a bit out of practice. If you'd like to join and write something on this week's prompt word, head over to Kate's blog Heading Home and link up at the bottom of this week's post.

Whole

There are so many things I could write about with this word, but I think I'm just going to kind of ramble and pray that it all kinda melds together into one coherent thought. The first thing I thought about when I saw the prompt word is that I haven't felt whole in a long time. I think the last time I felt really, truly whole was when I was pregnant with our eldest daughter, M2. We'd been married for about six months when she was conceived and I was overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a mother for the first time. Everything seemed right in my world, in my life, and within myself. I was happy and healthy -- physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I have struggled for most of my life with feeling broken. I've been broken because of bullying, low self-esteem, a lifetime of obesity, emotional abuse, mental illness (my own and that of close family), self-injury, suicidal thoughts and attempts, and spiritual wounds. When I met Gray and our friendship began, I was on my journey to the Catholic Church. As I went along that path, I began to see those spiritual wounds being healed and in Gray, I found a kind of love and acceptance that was a balm to many of my emotional hurts and scars. When we married, I felt a sense of wholeness that I hadn't ever thought possible -- and yet, there remained pieces of me that were broken, although I didn't see it at the time.

Those broken pieces have sharp, jagged edges that continue to cut me apart and tear at my desires to be truly whole. Despite my journey to Catholicism, I've had some of those old spiritual wound scars be reopened in the last three years by circumstances and situations out of my control. Thankfully, Fr. B, my spiritual director, has been helping me -- slowly though it seems to go -- to get at the deeper roots of those spiritual wounds so that I can find not just healing for the superficial tears in my spirit, but a deeper spiritual wholeness.

Emotionally, I am definitely a long way from whole. I've struggled mightily with this task that I felt the Holy Spirit set before me to read and meditate on the Psalms each day and write about it in this blog. Some of that is due to spiritual healing that still needs to take place, but a lot of it is that my brain and body are so tired from fighting depression constantly for the last three years that I have many days that I do good to just be awake and vertical instead of in bed.

I want to be whole again. I want to enjoy my life again. I want to have hope that I can be whole someday. Right now it's not all darkness, but what light I see at the end of the tunnel is a tiny pinprick that is so far away that I cannot fathom the distance. It might as well not be there at all as far away as it is. But that tiny pinprick is what keeps me alive. When I can see it, I can think of the possibility of wholeness. When I can't, then I can't see wholeness for anyone and all seems lost. So I focus on that pinprick of light and keep following my big brother Chez's advice to put one foot in front of the other.

Maybe one day, I'll step out of this dark tunnel and emerge through that pinprick into the light of wholeness. With my luck, that won't be in this life, but will only happen once I've shuffled off this mortal coil. I suppose there is actually truth in that statement. I mean as humans, we're all broken by sin and our broken and sinful world. We may do our best to rid ourselves of sin, but we still fall victim to the sins of others and the messed up way the world works because of the effects of original sin. The only cure for the messiness of our sin sick world and its effects on all of us is Jesus. He is with us, of course, via the Holy Spirit and in the Eucharist, but I don't think this world will get much better until He comes again. So maybe wholeness in this life is something to be sought after, but not to be received until He comes again.

I don't know. I don't have all the answers. I just know what my heart yearns for -- to be fully and completely whole in Him.

Psalm 12

I'm a day late with this meditation. Yesterday was a long day and by the time I got around to finally having time to sit down and actually write, my ability to think coherently was long gone. I'll admit that there was also the issue of being frustrated and not wanting to write yesterday. With each day that passes, I'm finding it harder and harder to write. It's not that the subject matter is so complicated, but I think I'm hitting a wall mentally. That and the last several days, I feel like I'm writing the same words over and over. The more I think about it though, maybe that's what I'm supposed to do.

Today's psalm is subtitled, "Plea for Help in Evil Times." You know, this was written a few millennia ago, but given the way our world seems to be at the moment, it could have just as easily been written today. It speaks to how there are so few people left who are godly in the psalmist's world. It's very easy to see how that applies to our world. You know that old saying, "the rich get richer and the poor get poorer"? For me, that is a good example of this idea. The reason the rich get richer and the poor get poorer is because of the sinfulness that so permeates our world. You can see it play out in other areas as well -- war, domestic violence, slavery, famine, the lust for power, murder, etc. With all that ungodliness going on, it's easy to see why the psalmist penned these words:

Help, O Lord, for there is no longer anyone who is godly; the faithful have disappeared from humankind. They utter lies to each other; with flattering lips and a double heart, they speak. (verses 1-2)

But those who suffer in the wake of such ungodliness -- the poor, enslaved, beaten, sick, unjustly imprisoned, etc -- are not forgotten by God. Even as the psalmist bemoans the wickedness he sees around him, he expresses his hope in God's love for those who follow him and suffer injustice:

"Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan, I will now rise up," says the Lord. "I will place them in the safety for which they long." (verse 5)

God does see when His children suffer and even when it seems there is no one left who follows Him, He won't leave us abandoned. He will place us in safety.

That's a hard thing to see sometimes in the thick of it. I know if someone had said to me during my trauma almost three years ago that God had not abandoned me and would place me in safety, I'd have thought they had lost their mind. Quite honestly, I would have thought that if they'd said it to me in the immediate months after the trauma. I had horrible flashbacks, the most vivid and scary nightmares I've ever had, and was mostly miserable and felt very unsafe for a long time.

Looking back on it though, I can see that while I didn't feel safe, God was holding me in a place of safety. He was loving me through others -- my husband Gray, my three sweet little girls, my big brother Chez, my friend Rikert, and many others -- and through the therapeutic skills of my therapist Pendragon. He kept me safe from myself on a number of occasions when I despaired of anyone who cared or loved me. Eventually, He also loved me through providing spiritual healing through the ministry of the Church and my spiritual director, Fr. B.

I still have moments and even whole days or weeks when I feel unsafe and abandoned, but I am beginning to know in a more powerful way that even when I feel that way, He hasn't left me drowning in the aftermath of the evil that wreaked such havoc on my life. I still have a long journey ahead of me, but I feel better able to weather the storms of this illness and this thing we call life (because goodness knows life has tons of storms even without mental illness!) than I have felt in a long time.

Until next time...

Pax Christi!

Psalm 10

Today's psalm reminds me so much of the book When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Rabbi Harold S. Kushner. I'll be honest that I haven't read the book, but I remember some years ago that a friend recommended it to me when I was struggling with depression and wondering why I had to suffer when there were so many others around me who were doing all the wrong things who didn't suffer.

I don't believe for a minute that I'm a good person. I'm a sinner. I'm a big, fat, grievous sinner who hurts God's heart on a daily basis. I do my best to avoid sin, but sometimes it finds me even if I'm not looking for it. Anyhow, I am far from "good" but I am trying to be good. Actually, my aim is to be perfect as the Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48). That said, I understand why my friend recommended this book. I imagine that the author probably quotes this psalm or perhaps another like it. Look at this passage:

Their ways prosper at all times; Your judgments are on high, out of their sight; as for their foes, they scoff at them. They think in their heart, "We shall not be moved; throughout all generations we shall not meet adversity." (verses 5-6)

The psalmist is talking here about the wicked. He's accusing God of being so far away that the wicked are not able to hear His judgments upon them and his proof is that the wicked are prospering in everything they do. He goes on to talk about how they persecute and prey upon the poor, curse their enemies and the like and that they have confidence that nothing ill will befall them.

How many times have you met people like this?

To be honest, there is a particular presidential candidate at the moment who seems to fit this bill. Despite all his ravings, outrageous comments, and behaviour that would earn most people a ticket to the hospital in a straight jacket -- he seems to continue to gain momentum and support like wildfire.  I confess that I am dumbfounded at times as to how on earth any sane person could possibly think he is a viable candidate for the office of President of the United States. While I'm not alone in my bewilderment over this, the sheer amount of support he seems to be garnering is frightening and makes me very scared for what could happen if he eventually wins in November. There have been times when I've wondered where God is in all of this. A couple of years ago, I would have likely thought God totally absent and deaf due to my own anger at Him, but thankfully, I've moved past that. These days I am able to say, "Lord, I can't see Your plan, but I trust in You."

The psalmist -- after he's vented his spleen about how awful things are and how the wicked prosper and while those who follow God suffer -- seems to come to the same place where I'm at these days:

But You do see! Indeed You note trouble and grief, that You may take it into Your hands; the helpless commit themselves to You; You have been the helper of the orphan. (verse 14).........O Lord, You will hear the desire of the meek; You will strengthen their heart, You will incline Your ear to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more. (verses 17-18)

And that's what it really boils down to in the end. Even if we can't see His plan, He really does see. He really is fighting for those who trust in Him. He really does have a plan and He is working that plan despite our inability to see it. When bad things happen to good people, the most fruitful thing we can do is trust in Him.

It's hard, I know. I've been there, done that, got half a dozen or more t-shirts. It's not your first inclination either. It may not be your second or third or two hundred and thirty third and that's okay. It's okay to be angry and tell Him. It's okay to struggle and wonder where He is in the midst of your darkest hour when He appears to be silent and nowhere to be seen. It's okay to be angry that you're struggling and trying to have faith and it seems like no matter what you do, nothing is changing or getting better. All of these things are a-okay.

Here's the challenge though -- stay the course. When you're struggling and you want to give up on God, keep putting one foot in front of the other. That sounds like stupid and ridiculously simple advice, but the image is powerful. It's something my big brother Chez said to me nearly three years ago. We were having a conversation about how hard everything was and how mad I was at God and how I wanted to just give up altogether and leave this life. After much back and forth, I told him I knew suicide wasn't the answer but I just didn't know how to go on anymore. His advice to me was to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

After that, every time I struggled, those words and the image they evoke would come into my mind. As with most advice, it's easier said than done, but holding onto that image of just staying the course helped me hold onto sanity and reality many times. I continue to keep doing this because it's only by persevering little by little, breathing in and out, moving forward into the next moment, and staying focused on using my energy to put the foot that is behind to the front that I will ever get where I want to go.

This is especially true of faith. So put your trust in Him and when you can't see His plan or how to move forward in faith, continue to do the routine things you already do -- go to Mass or church services, pray, read scripture, engage in fellowship with your faith community -- so that you stay on the path and stay moving toward Him. Your feelings may tell You that He is far away or that You have wandered far from Him but remember, feelings are not always a good barometer of what is reality and what is a lie. You may feel far away, but He is always there and if you're making a conscious effort to at least do something to persevere in faith, He will reward your efforts in His own perfect time.

You may think I'm full of hot air, but I've been there. I've been there for a long time. In some ways, I'm still struggling with my faith and I definitely still struggle with putting my trust firmly in Him. Be encouraged that if you are struggling violently, you are not alone. The wicked may seem to be winning and God may be nowhere you can see Him, but He is with you -- and so am I. I'm praying for you, whoever you may be. If you need a friend to pray with you or encourage you, email me. Just click the link on the sidebar.

Until next time...

Pax Christi!

Psalm 9

Today's psalm is the longest one I've read thus far in this little exercise, but I know it's not the longest to come yet (Psalm 119 may have to be spread over a few days!). Given its length, I decided to take a slightly different tactic for this meditation. As I always do, I read the psalm in my Bible and then left it for a little bit. More specifically, I went and took a shower. I don't know about y'all, but I do some of my best thinking in the shower. Well, wouldn't you know it, I didn't think much about it at all. Instead, my brain went a thousand other directions. As I was coming back to it, I decided that instead of focusing on the entire psalm, I was only going to focus on a single passage from it. In this case, it's a couple of verses.

The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know Your name put their trust in You, for You, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You. (verses 9-10)

This particular passage kinda jumped out at me because of the word "oppressed." As I said in one of my previous posts, I've been seeing all the red flags that would normally indicate demonic oppression for well over a year. Gray has said several times in the last three years that he believes that the severity and lengthiness of this episode of depression is due to some kind of attack by the enemy. Any other time I would have agreed with him, but when you're struggling amidst such heavy darkness, it's hard to see light or anything -- much less actually discern spirits.

I think another reason that he probably arrived at that conclusion was because of the drastic change in my spiritual life. It's not that I suddenly stopped going to Mass or doing the base level required stuff, but I lost my ability to connect to it, to find joy in it, and most of all, began to struggle with even wanting to do the basics. I found Mass to be emotionally tortuous at times and an especially agonising challenge most of the rest of the time. For a good portion of the last three years, I participated as a cantor (someone who sings the Psalms and Gospel Acclamation for Mass) and soloist as well as being a regular chorister. I felt like I had an obligation and that people were counting on me, so I stayed and I was honestly miserable. It got to a point where I not only dreaded Sunday mornings, but found that I had no desire to go at all. At some point, I began to feel a kind of revulsion at the idea of attending Mass and even told my big brother Chez that I just didn't want anything to do with anything of faith anymore.

Still, I pushed forward. I went through the motions week after week, month after month. I began to despair that I would never find any peace with my faith or with my relationship to God ever again. At one point, I began to question whether everything I'd always believed was really true or was just something someone made up. That was the lowest point. In that dark valley, apathy set in and the only thing that made me get up and go to Mass on Sundays or pray blessings at meal times and bedtime prayers with my children was my love for my children and my desire to be a good example of them. I wanted them to see me as someone who was struggling, but still continuing to practice her faith, so that some day when life hits them with something that causes them to be angry at God or question their faith, they'll maybe recall my example.

I don't remember what pulled me out of that low point exactly, but I know whatever it was, grace was behind it. A little less than year ago, I began seeing Fr. B for spiritual direction. That was when my faith began to change. It wasn't overnight or even after a few months. It took a good six months before I noticed anything at all. It had been happening gradually, but one Sunday evening when we'd gone to Mass, I realised that I hadn't felt so annoyed and angry. At some point after that, I had several bad weeks in a row with my depression. Given how bad things had become, Fr. B and I stepped up our meetings to every week instead of every 2-3 weeks.

I knew when I walked into the first of those weekly meetings and saw Father's purple stole, holy oil, holy water, a small hand sized Benedictine crucifix, Father's Bible, and a very worn looking small leather book that things were about to get serious. It was about to go down spiritually. That day Father heard my confession, anointed me with the Oil of the Sick for healing, and prayed prayers of deliverance over me. To say that it was intense is an understatement. As he prayed, he blessed me several times with the holy water and touched the crucifix to my head. I started bawling at some point and just kept crying and crying and crying. After he was done, I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. I wasn't sure if I felt different, but I knew that I was actually looking forward to spending some time with Jesus once Father and I parted ways.

We walked over to the church and he gave me the Eucharist and then left me to pray. I spent the next hour and a half praying, crying, praying some more, crying a lot more, and then I did something I hadn't done of my own volition in a long time -- I sang. It was just a simple Latin chant that I know and that was all I sang, but I sang. Don't get me wrong, I didn't feel great paroxysms of joy, but I sang. It was kind of a big deal. When I left, I felt emotionally lighter.

It didn't last though. That's the thing about experiencing spiritual attack or oppression. It's rarely over and vanquished in one go. I think that's because demons are kinda persistent. It's not much consolation at the time, especially if you've been suffering as long as I have, but you have to ignore that it sucks and be more persistent than the demons. So I went back the next week and the next and the next and the next. Before I knew it, Christmas was approaching and both my schedule and Father's got very busy. Then we went out of town for the two weeks surrounding Christmas and New Year's to visit Gray's family.

After Christmas, I set up another meeting with Father, but we didn't resume at our weekly pace. It was back to every 2-ish weeks. Then February hit and my mood took a serious nosedive. We stepped up our meetings again and Father continued to pray both deliverance and other prayers over me, hear my confession, anoint me, and give me the Eucharist. I continued to spend an hour or so after meeting with him to pray and talk to Jesus. Somewhere toward the end of the month, something significant happened. I didn't see it at the time, but Father did. He had told me earlier in that meeting that he really believed that my depression had both psychological and spiritual causes. I halfheartedly agreed with him in the moment, but was still clinging to not wanting to see oppression where it was clearly present.

After that meeting, my mood improved and I found I had more energy emotionally and physically. I found that I was actually enjoying some things, laughing more often, being less grouchy with my children, and that I was looking forward to things in the future in a way I hadn't before. It took another week for me to make the connection between how I was feeling and the spiritual side of my depression.

It's been about three weeks since that happened and although I've had some bad days, my mood has been more or less at the same level. I'm not joyful or what I'd call happy, but this feels different. I told Gray today that I'm starting to feel more like myself. I've been wondering in the last couple of weeks if how I'm feeling means that I'm turning a corner with the depression. I've been very nervous about even thinking that because I've experienced such disappointment in the past when I thought things might be getting better, but today, I found a kind of peace about it. Whether or not this is a harbinger of good things to come, I don't know, but I'm accepting it for what it is for right now.

So why the long story? Because at some point in all this mess, I realized in a very palpable way that I was definitely being oppressed and that motivated me to put my trust ever more firmly in the Lord. In some ways, I think my insistence on not believing that it was oppression protected me in a way. I needed to find my way back to God, to have some healing take place in that relationship, to let go of a lot of the anger before I could be in a place where I could call my God my stronghold and actually believe that He wouldn't forsake me in my time of trouble.

The other thing that I realized as I read this verse is that despite my anger, despite how far from Him I ran, I was still looking back over my shoulder at Him and trusting Him on a certain level. My stronghold was in Him all the time, but I just didn't know it. That obedience and that desire to have my children see some better example about faith in me, that was my trusting in Him to not abandon me (even though I felt abandoned). The reality is that He didn't and He won't and that is what I must cling to when all seems lost.

Until tomorrow....

Pax Christi!

Psalm 4

In reading through this psalm, I am always struck by its final verse:

I will both lie down and sleep in peace; for you alone, O Lord, make me lie down in safety. (verse 8)

I think I need to write this verse down and memorize it or post it somewhere that I can see it frequently throughout the day. One of the biggest difficulties that I face in the night time hours is trying to convince myself that if I lie down and close my eyes that I will be safe. So many of the flashbacks I've had have happened upon lying down and as I've slept, I've had more nightmares than I can count. Both things make me more than a little skittish about going to sleep at night. So I stay awake. Usually I'm up until the wee wee hours because I just can't convince myself that it will be okay.

As I look at this verse, and indeed the whole of this psalm, it seems to me that the major theme is putting things in God's hands, trusting in His ability to do mighty things. The psalmist begins the psalm by talking about how God has helped him in his distress. Later he admonishes the reader to not sin, but be repentant, offer restitution, and put trust in the Lord. He points out that despite these promises of God, some seek more of God's blessing and favour, but that he (the psalmist) has more gladness in his heart than those who do this even when they receive what they ask for. Why is the psalmist so confident? Because he has put his trust in God.

Sometimes though, I am definitely like those people who are seeking more of God's favour and blessing. I'll admit that throughout these past three years, one of the things I have sought many times is an emotional connection with God and a real tangible sense of His Presence. My dear big brother Chez has pointed out to me that emotions are fickle and change on a whim and that the real tangible Presence of God is to be found in more than those feelings. He has encouraged me time and again to take joy in and practice gratitude for even the smallest of things -- a sunny day, a cool breeze, my children's hugs, my husband's presence, a cherished book, coffee with a friend, and all of the small victories that I have in my therapy and healing. Truthfully, deluged as I was at times with seemingly impenetrable darkness, I often balked at his suggestions and even countered them with poor excuses for why I just couldn't do what he was suggesting.

Despite this, Chez's repeated encouragement stuck with me and eventually, I began to become less resistant to the idea and tried to take his advice at various moments. As the months have passed, I've gotten better at finding small moments of joy and expressing gratitude for them and I think that has helped in some way when I have days where the darkness descends and it's harder to find anything to hold onto. I still struggle with wanting to feel God in an emotional way at times and it is still my prayer that one day I'll be able to reconnect with Him in that way. That said, I think I'm getting to a place of spiritual maturity where I'll be able to say that if it never happens, I'll be okay. When I've reached that place, perhaps then I'll be able to really trust God like the psalmist and say with him that I both lie down and sleep in peace. What a wonderful sleep that would be!

Five Minute Friday: Weary

This chapter of Psalms gets me every. single. time. It is SO true to the experience of despair and the weariness that comes from fighting a mental illness. It's one I have prayed many many times.

This isn't something that is easy for me to talk about and that's saying something. I talk about a lot of things on this blog that are universally considered hush-hush and things that are difficult at best to talk about with someone you trust -- much less publishing them for the entire world to see. The thing is though, if I don't talk about it, then the likelihood that someone else who is struggling with these things will start talking about it becomes less. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I like talking about depression, self-injury, PTSD, suicide, therapy, etc. It's that I need to talk about these things -- for myself and for the benefit of others who might need to hear it or find some solidarity in my words.

I have been kinda quiet with my writing of late and haven't participated in the Five Minute Friday community much at all in the last several weeks. Just haven't been able to summon the words to talk about bacon (gasp!) or dancing or anything else. This week's prompt though, just hit me where I live in a big way.

WEARY

There's a lot I could say about this word, but as I said, I need to say something that isn't easy for me to say, so here goes....

I struggle with suicide.

A Different Experience of Grace

After over a month of not writing anything, the last thing I thought I'd be blogging about is grace. To be honest, in this dark sojourn of the last two and a half years, I have shied away from writing about the subject. I talk about it occasionally with my sweet hubby Gray and the subject comes up quite a lot with my dear friend and “big brother” Chez, but I just can't seem to make myself write about it.

I believe in grace. Actually, I believe that it is God's gift of grace which saves us. I have had many encounters in my life with grace, but something about the deep heavy darkness of so long a trek through depression's valley has soured my desire to share much of anything with regard to faith, much less, grace. To be honest, I've been so angry at God and have had my faith shaken so profoundly, that there were times I wanted nothing to do with Him or the practice of faith at all. I even considered for a time turning my back on my faith altogether.

The Greatest of These Is Love

After the kids are long since tucked in bed, Gray and I quite often spend time together just talking about one thing or another. Sometimes it's housekeeping sorts of things like, "Don't forget that I have an appointment tomorrow evening with Pendragon.." or "Honey, if you go out tomorrow, we're about out of milk and cat litter." Other times it's conversations about the kids and what is going on with them or something between us that we wanted to discuss in greater detail in private. A lot of times though, we talk about theology, politics, and the state of the world. Those last topics are some of my favourite conversations.

A topic that we go back to again and again and that we talked about earlier tonight is that of Christian charity. What prompted it was the fact that today on Facebook I ran across two rather disturbing instances where someone who was professing Christ was behaving in a way that was less than charitable.

Both of these situations broke my heart.

You might find that a bit of an overreaction, but it's the truth. Whenever I find Christians speaking to their fellow Christians or nonbelievers in a way that is hateful, angry, spiteful, or just rude, it hurts my heart. You see, I love people. I am a big lover of people from way back. I'm a hugger and kisser and an "Oh bless your heart!" and "How can I help?" and an "I love you, my friend!" kind of person. I don't know why exactly, but I've always been this way. My base instinct is to see the good in others and, if they will allow me, help them see it in themselves. All of that is born out of a desire to love others as God loves me. Even when I was a small child, I was this way. When I gave my heart to Jesus at age 6, it became even more important to me to love on others in the way that He loved me. It's just who I am and, for the most part, comes easily to me.

This isn't to say that I've never been uncharitable or that I lack the capacity for such things. Quite the reverse is true. I know there have been times in my life when I have been less than kind and loving. I also know that there have been many, many times when I have nearly bitten my tongue (or sat on my hands as it were) to hold back a snarky or nasty retort and then have let it all spill out of my mouth later on to an understanding friend. I say all of this because I don't want you to think I'm some kind of saint or angel. I'm not. I definitely aspire to be a saint, but I fall short of the mark quite a lot.

So what was our conversation about tonight? Well, it was me recounting the two incidents I'd witnessed and my frustration at the people involved who were so hateful. I told Gray that I just couldn't understand why they would say those things, why they couldn't seem to see how rude and unkind they were being. Without giving you all the details, one of the people was basically bashing an atheist friend of mine over the head with his beliefs about the state of her soul and the other was a group of people who were name-calling over the issue of their belief that the way they worship Jesus is better, more holy, and more perfect than the way another group of Christians worship Jesus. In each scenario, the victims of these attacks responded with great charity and grace and that was thrown back in their face as though they had replied with vindictiveness and vitriol.

I just don't understand that at all. It seems abundantly clear to me that this kind of behaviour is unacceptable for someone who professes the name of Christ. Look at Matthew 22:34-40:

When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

Love God and love your neighbour as yourself. How hard is this to understand? It's really not rocket science and yet, I run across many more people than I care to count who seem to forget this when they are engaged in a discussion about faith with someone with whom they disagree. They seem to get so caught up in the whole "love God" that they forget the second half of it which Jesus says is like it -- love of neighbour.

Why is the second commandment like the first? That's pretty simple too. It is a manifestation of the first commandment. If you love God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind, then the natural outpouring of all that love for God is love for your neighbour. It is an active thing that involves good works like feeding the hungry, visiting the imprisoned, clothing the naked, etc. It is also something that involves submitting our hearts, minds, and flesh to His grace to be molded into His will and transformed into the model of neighbourly charity to all we meet. That means being loving, kind, generous, humble in spirit, willing to admit when we are wrong, and choosing our words carefully when we are faced with disagreements with those around us.

Is it easy? Sometimes. But then again, sometimes it's ridiculously hard. That's when God is giving us the opportunity to practice. A lot of times that practice is uncomfortable and frankly, hurts. But you know what? Change often hurts -- especially the kind that takes practice -- but it's what we're called to. We are called to be changed so dramatically that when those around us look at us, they see He who is Perfect Love and Absolute Truth staring back at them. When we are working toward this transformation with sincere hearts and effort, then we fully understand the first commandment. It is then when we fully understand what it means to love God so completely.

I don't know about you, but I want that. I want to be so fiercely in love with God, so conformed to who He is, that this whole "love your neighbour" thing is as easy as breathing. There is something that I feel deep inside me that is hungry for this transformation, for this infusion of grace that changes men and moves mountains. I've pursued this for nearly my entire life because it is who He made me to be and the bottom line is that I love Him and I know by virtue of my creation that He loves me.

I'll admit that sometimes I struggle with feeling His love and sometimes I wonder if I actually do love Him because of the anger I feel at times. I have felt abandoned and lonely and alone and so heartbroken and hurt by His silence that I have wondered if I should turn away from Him and go my own way. But the imprint of His love, given to me by virtue of my humanity, that imprint so long tended, polished, and lovingly cherished, hidden away in the very depths of my being is what kept me trying to love Him despite the lack of everything that I felt and the darkness of my thoughts toward Him. That imprint of Perfect Love made manifest in the Eucharist, the holy oils of Anointing, the words of absolution in Confession, and in the sacramental love shared with Gray is what has saved me from walking away. It is what has saved me from myself in those dark moments when I have used life to inhale death. That Perfect Love is what has continued to draw me forward toward Him despite not wanting anything to do with faith or God or any of it.

I haven't done it on my own though. I've had an abundance of love from the neighbours all around me. In fact, when I suddenly couldn't feel God's love in a direct way (something I still don't really feel), it was the love of neighbours -- Gray, Sif, Fr. B, Chez, Rikert, Tara, and in his professional way, Pendragon -- that touched my heart, encouraged me to keep breathing and moving forward in obedience, and kept me from killing myself on more than one occasion. I have been blessed to have the love of many neighbours, especially online (shout out to all my awesome Board friends -- love y'all!!!) and many of whom did nothing more than pray for me in my hour of need, knowing nothing more than what Chez posted as a prayer request on his blog (Love you, big brother!) You see, I have been the recipent of that "love your neighbour as yourself" love from those around me in such a profound way that it made that Perfect Love of God manifest to me when I was unable to see Him or find Him on my own.

So you see, love of God is important -- the most important thing we can do -- because He is deserving of ALL our love and that includes the gift we give the rest of His creation when we......wait for it.......

.....love our neighbour.

That's all I've got. Peace be with you!

Five Minute Friday: Follow

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

FYI: This entry is very, very late. As in, Kate just released the next prompt! Be that as it may though, this prompt is one of my two #oneword365 words for this year, so I just had to share it with you!
 

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Follow the leader.

Follow the recipe.

Follow your heart.

Follow Me.

My personality is generally extroverted. I have almost zero problem talking to people - even strangers. My mom used to joke that I could talk to a brick wall, which isn't too far off base. I love meeting people and getting to know them. Making new friends, speaking in public, working in groups or on teams, etc are all things that come naturally to me. With all of those things, you'd think that leadership comes easy too. You'd be wrong.

I am a very natural follower.

This doesn't mean that I can't lead or that I've never been in a leadership role. I actually ran for student government in high school! What it really means is that I'm much more inclined to let others lead and just follow along for the ride. It's much more fun to follow and not have to bear the responsibilities of leading.

This fits perfectly with who we are called to be in Christ. He calls us to follow Him wherever He leads us. It's one reason I chose the word "follow" as one of my two #oneword365 words. Pretty much my entire life has been spent as a passionate follower of Christ. It is an absolutely integral part of who I am. So if this is such a huge part of me, why the focus on "follow" this year?

One big, complicated, difficult word.

Depression.

The last couple of years, I have struggled with following Him and His plan for me. To be perfectly honest, I have been so angry at God for the better part of the last two years that in have struggled with wanting to follow Him at all. When these feelings started to surface they were so intense that Gray remarked that he hadn't married me just for me to turn atheist. I've never totally turned my back on Him, but I'd be lying if I said that the thought hadn't occurred to me on more than one occasion.

So how - in the midst of depression that is sometimes so blindingly painful and debilitating that death seemed better than living - have I continued to follow Him?

One big, complicated, even more difficult word.

Obedience.

I am deeply grateful for the requirement God has placed on me to attend Mass each week on Sundays. Missing Mass on a Sunday without a good reason (illness, caregiving, long distance, etc) is a mortal sin because it's a violation of the commandment to keep the Sabbath holy. Part of keeping that day holy is coming together with the other members of the body of Christ in your community to worship together. This is the reason that the Church enjoins upon the faithful the obligation to attend Mass each Sunday. Without this obligation and left to my own devices, I would have likely ceased following or even trying to follow Him.

This continued desire to follow Him despite everything that is going on in my head is why I chose follow as one of my #oneword365 words. This desire is also why I am still here. I desire to follow His plan for my life and part of that plan is that He gets to decide when my life ends and not me, that I am not my own (thanks to my "big brother" Chez for pointing out that last thing).

So even though it sometimes hurts worse than I can really express and although I can't see or understand His plan in all of this, I continue to follow.

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up at Kate Motaung's blog!

Breaking My Silence

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you may have noticed that one of the things I speak about most frequently - outside of the three Fs (faith, family, and fandoms) -- is my struggle with major depressive disorder. I'm sure there are some who read my words about this and wonder why on earth I would be so candid and open. I am certain that some of you who read this blog regularly may even find yourself squirming a little with discomfort when you see the words "depression" or "suicide" cross your screen.

Can I tell you something about that? It's okay. It's totally okay that you feel that way -- for now. 

Eventually, I'd like you and everyone else to get to a place where those words are less disturbing and are instead a cause for you to stop and listen with concern -- not just to my words but to anyone who might need to speak those words aloud.

I'll be honest. I've only just gotten to a place where those words no longer make me cringe and flinch. Even as easy as it's become for me to write about those things, I'll admit that there are still times when it is a little hard to say them out loud and face to face. But I do it anyway.

Why do I keep talking about this? Quite simply, because it's necessary.

Because silence, in the face of mental illness is no longer an option for me.

I have been silent for over 25 years about my struggle and about the role of mental illness in shaping the person I am today. I have been silent about my struggles with depression, PTSD, self-injury, and suicidal thinking. I have been silent out of fear of what others might think of me or how they might treat me if they ever found out. I have hid my secret from friends, neighbours, and close family. I have struggled with being totally honest with my husband, my therapist, and my dear friends who have supported me for fear of being rejected outright or having someone I love and respect give up on me.

Part of this struggle has come from having had some bad experiences with sharing my struggles. I had a therapist who violated my trust, a friend who got angry, a neighbour who immediately laid hands on me (in a charismatic prayer way), family and friends who acted embarrassed that I'd shared with them, and some family who suddenly became possessed by a desire to be overly supportive. On the flip side of this, I've had a therapist (Pendragon) who has supported me and helped me immensely, friends who have listened compassionately and not judged, numerous friends (and family) who have prayed for me when I've asked (and without my asking), and last but not least, my sweet husband Gray who has loved me and supported me without hesitation for as long as I've known him. 

So with such different responses, why continue to speak out and expose myself to possible judgement, betrayal, or anger?

Because silence helps no one.

Silence doesn't help increase awareness or education.
Silence keeps depression and other mental illness in the shadows.
Silence ensures that those who are struggling in the throes of suicidal thinking remain fearful of reaching out for help at a critical moment.
Silence perpetuates the stigmas surrounding mental illness in all its many forms.
Silence is an enemy to my own healing.
Silence begets more silence, more suffering and encourages others to suffer silently.
Silence is, in its own way, an agreement with the stigmas, misunderstandings, and confusion that surround mental illness and suicide.

So I refuse to be silent.

I will continue to speak out. I will speak through my own discomfort at times. I will continue to take risks in speaking to people one on one about my experiences with mental illness and suicide. I will continue to educate, answer questions, and advocate for better care, less stigma and a tomorrow where those who suffer do not feel the need to suffer in silence.

When Gray and I were just getting started in our relationship, he shared one of his favourite sci-fi/fantasy book series with me and in that series of books, I found one of my favourite quotes about sharing our struggles:

For my fellow book nerds, this quote is from Callahan's Crosstime Saloon by Spider Robinson. It is the first of a whole series of books featuring a barman named Mike Callahan and the very unique folks who show up at his bar, Callahan's Place. If you need a fun read and like stuff that is a little different from your average sci-fi/fantasy book, I highly recommend reading this book and its sequels.

Now I'm going to ask something of you.

If you've read this, would you please comment below and then share this post somewhere else online? You can share it on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, your own blog, via email, or wherever you like.

I know it's a little scary to think about doing something so vulnerable and open, but let me do the heavy lifting. Just share this post. You don't have to say why. The point is to share it to break the silence.

I believe it is important to keep this idea going. I'd like more people to feel free to share their stories and know that it's okay. I'm here. I'll read your story if you want to share it with me -- here in the comments or via email. I promise I'll reply. Maybe in all this sharing, we'll find a way to lessen the pain of mental illness and increase joy for everyone.

Will you help me?

Daybook Online Journal -- Week of March 3, 2015

Welcome to my weekly Tuesday post where I remember the ups and downs and big and little things of daily life for me and my family. I call it my Daybook Online Journal and it's an idea I found via fellow blogger Jenny at her blog, The Littlest Way. Thanks for the inspiration, Jenny! The prompts are a combination of several I've found as I've been researching this particular way of chronicling daily life. Come on in and reflect with me!

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Outside my window.... it's a rather rainy day today, gray and overcast, but the temperature has been in the low 70s which isn't totally unusual for this time of year. It is a little odd since we had the threat of snow last week and are supposed to have freezing rain and ice this Thursday. I really wish the weather would pick a season and stick with it for a while instead of all this crazy up and down, back and forth between winter and spring. I suppose I ought not be surprised given that this is also not unusual for this time of year. Welcome to the South!

Highlights from the week....

• Well, my girls would say that the potential "snow" day was a highlight because they got a day off school out of the deal last Wednesday as well as two days (Tuesday and Thursday) that were 2-hr delay days. We didn't get a single snowflake where I live but my parents who live about 20 miles north of us got snow. 
• For me and Gray, the highlight of the week was this past Saturday morning when our eldest, M2, received the Sacrament of Reconciliation (Confession) for the first time! She was so excited and joyful before and afterward. She got to have her confession with our pastor, Fr. K, who she just loves to pieces. What an amazing blessing to watch her take her next steps along her faith journey and draw closer to God in this beautiful sacrament!
• With it being winter, there are a number of illnesses being passed around and I have fallen victim to one of the lovely upper respiratory bacterial bugs. I started feeling totally miserable on Sunday morning and finally went to get checked at our local urgent care clinic yesterday. Good thing I did. They diganosed me with mycoplasma bacteria which can become walking pneumonia if left untreated. I got two shots -- steroids and antibiotics -- and a prescription for an oral antibiotic and cough syrup with hydrocodone so I could rest. It's helped some and I feel less yucky today, but I'm definitely still struggling.
• Speaking of struggling, I'm not sure this is a highlight per se, but it is what it is. I have been through a rather intense and dark period of depression in the last week and a half and thanks to some prayers for deliverance prayed over me by Fr. B this past Thursday, I felt things finally start to lighten. 
• I posted my first entry in a good week and a half on Friday for the Five Minute Friday blog challenge. It had been a rough couple of weeks prior to that and it felt good to finally get something posted.
• The Downton Abbey season 5 finale -- SO many feels for my little fangirl heart! SO good and I can't wait for season 6 next January! Just wish I didn't have to wait so long between seasons.

This week I am thankful for....

• The flexibility of Gray's job that allows him to work from home when he needs to for the sake of my health. He's done that so much in the last two years and I am so grateful that his bosses are so understanding.
• Gray's patience with me, especially when I am in the throes of the darkest depression and am not truly myself. I know it is so trying on him and stressful for him even when I am less depressed, but that stress is doubled or even trebled when things are at their worst. I am so thankful for his love, kindness, and compassion in those hardest of times too.
• My dear friend Rikert who, out of concern for me in my darkest hour, tracked me down and stayed with me, talking until he persuaded me to go home to Gray who was worried sick and unable to come looking for me as he was home with our children. Rikert and his wife both have been so supportive of me during these past two years, but just over a week ago, he kept me from making a horrible mistake. Dear God, thank you for good friends who are loving and gentle, but firm and stubborn too.
• Fr. B, our dear family friend (who is also the priest who married us), who has been so faithful to pray for me and our family so often and who has been a particular blessing to me this week as we met so he could give me some spiritual direction, talk together, and pray. He prayed prayers of deliverance over me, gave me the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick, and a priestly blessing. I am firmly convinced that those three things really helped the intensity of my depression lessen and things get a lot lighter than they had been. 
• The blessing of modern medicine. It is truly amazing what good pharmaceutical drugs can do toward relieving the symptoms of physical illness. 
• The graces received by my eldest in her First Reconciliation this past Saturday. What a wonderful thing to be reconciled to God for the first time! Thanks be to God for His love and mercy!
• Having an increase in my appetite and some sort of decent sleep for the first time in a good month. Seriously. Nightmare free sleep is seriously underrated until you don't have it on a regular basis.
• Voxxer messages shared with my friend Jae
• The simple joy of watching Downton Abbey 
• Black bean and avocado salad with corn tortilla chips
• Chocolate -- something that makes a lot of wrongs right again.

Praying for...

• My friend N, who is saying goodbye to her daughter A, who is headed off to basic training
• My friend Jae, who so fervently prays for me even as she struggles with her own trials
• My friend Chez who is in the midst of his semi-annual Tin Cup Rattle on his blog where he tries to raise some much needed funds to take care of his family. 
• A blogger I have read at odd times in years past, but have discovered anew today -- Kendra at Catholic All Year. For her and her beautiful family and whatever prayer intentions they have.
• My friend T, who is always so supportive of me and loving. I appreciate her sweet comments, all our Voxxer chats, and most of all her prayers.
• For Fr. B, who I have mentioned twice already in thanksgiving for his many prayers for me and my family and his love for us. May God bless him always.
• For Fr. K, who heard M2's very first confession this past Saturday morning in thanksgiving for his ministry to our parish and the Church and for his love for the children of our parish.
• For M2 as she inches ever closer to meeting Jesus for the first time in the Holy Eucharist. Dear Lord, prepare her heart, her mind, and her body to meet you in this most holy and intimate way. Fill her with your love and grace as she approaches her First Holy Communion with You Jesus and always draw her ever closer to you in this Holiest of Sacraments.
• For AB and GB in thanksgiving for the wonderful blessings they both are to my life and the life of our family and that they too will be drawn closer to God with each day that passes.
• For my beloved Gray that he will find success in his work efforts -- in particular with those things that are frustrating him in his projects -- and somehow, amidst everything that he does for all of us, a deeper closeness with You, O Lord.
• For Pope Francis, our Bishop Robert Baker, all the bishops, priests, deacons, and consecrated religious that they will find renewed joy in their vocations and be refreshed in body, mind, and spirit as they serve the Body of Christ with their lives.

Reading...

• Mississippi Trial, 1955 by Chris Crowe -- actually just finished this one
• Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J. K. Rowling -- a re-read
• The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien -- still working on this one
• Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte -- going to start this one soon

Listening to...

• EWTN Radio Network's Called to Communion with Dr. David Anders -- excellent call-in show for non-Catholics to ask questions about the Catholic faith
• Michael Card -- Come Lift Up Your Sorrows
• Mother Angelica and the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration praying the Rosary
• Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata

I am learning... that my children are growing up faster than I'd like and time is not slowing down.

My favourite quote of the week:

"Give people high-fives just for getting out of bed. Being a person is hard sometimes."
            -- Kid President

A picture from my week:

M2 just prior to the communal penance service that preceded her First Reconciliation (Confession). So happy!

Praying together in front of the altar after her First Reconciliation as a family. One of my favourite pictures of the whole day. L-R: AB, me, M2, GB, and Gray

See you next week!