Five Minute Friday: Slow

Hey friends! It's been a while since I joined in with the folks at Five Minute Friday. If you're just joining me, know that this is a little longer than the average FMF post and that's because I don't set a timer. Yes, I know, I know. That's supposed to be the point, but I just can't do it that way. So I kinda do it my way. If you're a fast to moderately fast reader though, this should take you five minutes or so to read (so there's your five minutes). If you'd like to join up with this week's posts on the prompt word SLOW, then hop over to this week's prompt at Kate's blog and click on the linkup at the bottom of the page. Without further ado...

SLOW

It's been almost two months since the last time I posted here and I wish I could say that it's because life has been moving really fast or that I've just been so busy that I didn't have time to write, but I can't say that. Life has been, as it happens, pretty slow. The very beginning of the year, from just after New Year's to about mid-March, tends to be a wonderfully slow time of year that follows on the heels of the whirlwind of activity that comprises daily life and the many family and faith celebrations from September to December.

And friends, let me tell you, I need slow.

I have always been a fan of this time of respite and slowed down activity, but this year, it took on a new meaning for me. I didn't really realise it until this past Thursday when I was sitting in Dr. D's office and we were wrapping up our session. It had been a pretty intense session of EMDR and talking and my emotions were pretty close to the surface. I don't recall the exact thread of conversation, but somewhere in the midst of our normal wrap up talk, he commented that he thought I was on the right track with what we were working on. I agreed with him and replied that although I knew it was, it was still hard. He said "Oh yes, I know it is. I think though, part of the reason it's hard is because it feels like your progress is coming so slowly right now, but once we get through processing a lot of these memories, you'll notice that your progress speeds up and goes much faster."

You see, through the past four years I've been wishing for fast. I've been craving for time and progress and everything to just speed up and get me through this pain I feel. It hurts a lot when you're going through severe suicidal depression and PTSD. You feel like it's a nightmare that will never end and because it's so painful and so exhausting, you yearn for the passage of time (and all the normal thing that come along with it, like therapy sessions and tears and the like) to speed up so you just don't have to feel it anymore. Slow is the last thing you want and yet, time moves along like a turtle in a swimming pool of molasses.

What struck me about what Dr. D said on Thursday is that I knew the moment he said it that it was true and that I had already experienced that. Back in November, we took a pretty significant break from doing EMDR (a traumatic memory processing technique) because of the fact that I had experienced a very intense trigger around that time that needed to be worked through. Trying to work through traumatic memories on top of dealing with intense triggers can be far too much all at once, so we stopped the EMDR and to focus on helping me cope with the intense trigger. What I noticed during this break of about 2 to 2.5 months was that my progress did, in fact, speed up. I had more energy, more ability to handle day to day stresses, lessened irritability, and my sleep wasn't nearly as fraught with nightmares as it had been.

At some point in January, once the holidays had passed and things were calmer, we started doing EMDR again. Some of the things I'd seen improve stayed, while others slowed, and still others came to a halt altogether. I found myself wishing that it would speed up again and stop with all the slow movement. I got very frustrated, but kept pressing on despite it. The more frustrated I got though, the slower it seemed to go because I was avoiding some of the things I needed to do for myself to keep moving forward. I wasn't really facing the demons of my traumas and looking them full in the face. I was only really doing the bare minimum because I wanted to get to the part where things speed up again.

When Dr. D mentioned the bit about "processing a lot of these memories" I realised that I not only had experienced this, but that the slowing down that was happening was a natural part of the process. I also realised that until the last couple of weeks, I hadn't been fully embracing that slowness or the process. I can't say what changed and made it so that I began to embrace it again, but in that moment last Thursday, I realised something very fundamental about my healing journey: I need slow.

I need these times of slowness and intense therapy where I look at these things under a microscope and plunge deep into these memories. I need these times when I am pushing forward through molasses and sobbing uncontrollably as I face the traumas of my past anew. I need the slowness of these times to allow me to really find and untangle the threads which are binding my mind in a feedback loop of reliving these memories because that is painstaking, complicated work that requires patience, determination, a great deal of help from others, and a very slow perseverance. I need the slowness of only being able to do the basics of self care and resting a lot so that I don't get overloaded. I need to feel the intensity of the emotions that surface so I can learn how to cope with them and better manage them. I need slow.

So things are slow right now. Things are really intense too. The stuff my brain has been dredging up the last couple of weeks has been so intense that I've felt weak physically and needed a boost of caffeine and food immediately afterward just to be able to drive safely. It's also needed a lot of unpacking after processing, so my sessions with Dr. D have run longer and I've been seeing Pendragon at least twice a week and almost immediately after I see Dr. D each week. You'd think that it would be therapy overload and sometimes it's pretty intense too, but it's keeping me on a more even keel than I think I would be if I didn't have that extra help. The great thing about having these two professionals helping me is that they both have different perspectives and help me find different threads of connection and understanding that I might not be able to find without them. Gray helps too. We often do a little debrief when I come home and very often, things come up that later get addressed with EMDR or in talking with Pendragon or Dr. D.

With all that intensity and slowness, I know I will be glad for a time when we break from things so that progress speeds and breathing is easier, but knowing that this slowness is part of the process and that it is moving me forward is helpful. As much as this slowness is hard, it is forcing me to look at these traumatic memories full on and really feel the impact of them in a way that allows me to understand them and move past them instead of repressing them or hiding from them.

It's very hard work and it's very painful and there are days, like yesterday, when the pain is so fierce that I want everything to end -- but I know that slow doesn't have to mean running away and death by suicide. I know that all this pain and agony as I face this stuff in the slow is shaping me into a better person who is stronger, braver, and better equipped to do the work that He has planned for me as a wife, mother, mental health/suicide prevention advocate, and child of God.

The mountain is steep and the climb arduous, breath-stealing, excruciatingly painful, and interminably slow, but I know the vista that awaits me at the top will be worth it all the more for the journey.

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.)

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.

Just a quick update

This week has been a beast. I'm still alive and kicking, but a lot has happened. I had something for Five Minute Friday that was mostly ready to go, but just haven't gotten back to finishing it. I know that sounds odd given that it's supposed to be an exercise done in five minutes with no editing and using the week's prompt, but I stopped doing FMF like that several months ago. So I take as long as I need to write and edit if I feel it is necessary (although I try to keep it to a bare minimum and only do what is necessary for it to be readable -- inserting forgotten articles, changing verb tenses, etc). This week, that means that I'm likely not going to be completing my FMF entry. Tomorrow (Thursday) is going to be busy for me and I doubt I'll have time to get back to it before the linkup ends.

If you're not too busy, would you send up a prayer for me? I've got a lot going on in the next few days and week and I'm dealing with all of that on top of struggling with my illnesses too. Gray could use a prayer or two as well. Whenever I'm struggling, he invariably is put under a lot more stress as well and it's so hard for him. He's so wonderfully gracious about it though. I love him so much and want to support him in prayer too.

God bless y'all.

Pax Christi,
The Momma

Update on stuff

Hey friends! This is going to be a longer update than I normally do, just to give you a heads up.

I know it's been a while since I've written in this blog, so I wanted to pop in and give a quick update. Life has been kind of stressful in the last month or so and it's made me struggle with trying to find any inspiration. It seems that occasionally I get a particular blog post idea in my head and then by the time I have the energy to get around to it, it's gone. The other thing that's been happening a lot lately is that I just never seem to have the energy to manage even opening my laptop so I can write something.

So what's going on in my world? Well, some transitions, a significant milestone, and a few other things.

The transitions are mostly to do with some changes with Gray's work schedule and how that's affecting me. It's been about two weeks since the changes went into effect and I'm still struggling to get used to it. There were some real frustrations with the changes early on as I was afraid they were going to make it worse for me with regard to what I need to do to see to my mental health (counselling, spiritual direction, and EMDR therapy), but after several conversations together with Gray, a few with Pendragon, and a few between Gray and his boss, the knot of tension in my gut that's been there for a good three weeks has finally eased.

As for milestones, well, Miss AB had her First Holy Communion on April 30th. She looked absolutely beautiful and it was such a joyful and meaningful Mass for her and our whole family. My awesome mom-in-law Balinda flew down the Thursday beforehand and stayed w/us the whole weekend. My folks came on the day along with AB's godmother (plus her hubby and 3 kids) and her godfather, who drove in from out of state. After Mass, we enjoyed the party in the parish hall and then went out to the Olive Garden to celebrate w/my folks, Balinda, and AB's godfather. It was a wonderful meal and I think everyone had a great time -- most of all AB who received a whole bunch of presents from everyone.

As for the rest, the bulk of it has been me getting ready for my trip to New York City to walk in my second Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk (click the link if you'd like to donate as I'm still working toward my goal!). I've been doing a good bit of walking at the gym and the park to get my body in better shape to actually do the walking that's going to be required. Additionally, I finally got my hotel and flight nailed down and am steadily working on the things I want to do in my limited time there that weekend. I've never been to NYC and have wanted to go since I was a kid, so this is super exciting for me. I just wish I had more than just the weekend to spend exploring and seeing all the wonderful things NYC has to offer. On my list are:

• a visit to the MoMA (to see Van Gogh's The Starry Night)
• Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral on Sunday
• cannolis to enjoy and take home from some luscious bakery in Little Italy
• pictures of as many famous sights as possible (I promised my girls I'd try to get a good one of Miss Liberty!)
• shopping to buy a few souvenirs to take home 

• and of course, walking 16-18 miles for suicide prevention from Saturday night into Sunday morning! 

I don't know if I'll be able to get it all in, but I'm definitely going to try. I learned a lot last year about the event I'm participating in and what NOT to do, so I feel much better prepared this year. I'll fly home Monday afternoon, so I won't have much time on Monday to do much of anything.

One other thing of note that has been going on of late is that with much fear and trepidation, I began seeing a psychologist, Dr. D (not to be confused with my regular therapist Pendragon), who specialises in PTSD and is trained and certified to do EMDR treatments. Given my past experiences with mental healthcare professionals, it was really hard to go to that first appointment. Gray went with me to offer support, encouragement, and took over the responsibility of filling out the requisite new patient paperwork. My stomach, back, shoulders, and arms were tied up in knots of tension and anxiety and despite Pendragon's very positive view of Dr. D, I didn't want to go through with the appointment at all. It took all I had to make myself follow him down the hall from the waiting room to his office. Once I got through that appointment, it made it a little easier the next time. I'll admit though that although I've now seen Dr. D three times, there's still a part of me which is nervous about fully letting my guard down. Overall though, it's been a positive experience.

Dr. D is a nice man, has a decent sense of humour, and seems quite concerned to make the experience of therapy as comfortable for me as possible. He's also very smart and knows a lot about PTSD in a way that Pendragon doesn't. I've already learned more about it than I knew before and given Dr. D's expertise, I now have a formal diagnosis of PTSD. I wasn't looking for a diagnosis, but now that I have one, I feel a kind of relief. That may sound odd, but one of the lies that PTSD sometimes tells you is that what you went through wasn't that bad or that you're blowing it all out of proportion. In other words, you start to feel like you're a bit crazy for feeling the way you do. Having a formal diagnosis of PTSD gives validity to the feelings I've had and the symptoms I've been experiencing and makes me feel less like I'm just crazy.

So lots of good things and a few very challenging things as well, but overall, life has been a bit better if a bit exhausting. I don't know how much writing I'm going to be doing between now and the beginning of next month, but I'm aiming to at least try and write something once a week instead of letting so much time elapse. My apologies for such a long post and my gratitude if you actually read all of this navel-gazing!

Until next time...

Psalm 16

Today's psalm is one about trusting in God. Gosh, there's that theme again. Trust in God. In this particular instance, it's about resting secure in God's protection and love. Can I be honest? I still struggle with this one. The last couple of days have been hard for me as my seemingly ever-constant companion depression has reared its ugly head. Whenever that happens, it makes it difficult to feel so secure and loved by God.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; I have a goodly heritage. (verses 5-6)

This is about the most true part of this psalm for me. I have chosen the Lord and the place where I dwell is pleasant inasmuch as I know the love of family and friends. I am also deeply grateful for the heritage I have from my upbringing and the faith of my ancestors who guarded and passed down the flame of faith to each successive generation. Because I have chosen the Lord, I know He will provide for me and my family and there is -- despite my struggles -- security in that.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me. I keep the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices; my body also rests secure. For You do not give me up to Sheol, or let Your faithful one see the Pit. You show me the path of life. In Your presence there is fullness of joy; in Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. (verses 7-11)

I have to admit that the past three years have made this part of the psalm harder for me. I've been plodding my way along the path, trying to remain obedient and faithful, but depression clouds my ability to hear His counsel and the nightmares definitely keep me from resting secure. The struggles with these illnesses also tend to make it harder to stand firm and not be moved.

The hardest of all, when it comes to depression and the practice of faith, is that last verse. When the darkness drags you down so low that you just want it to go ahead and swallow you whole, it makes it even harder to experience what the psalmist seems to experience so easily -- joy. I'll be honest and say that for me, joy in the Lord is something that I haven't experienced in a very long time. Even with all the spiritual healing that has taken place, joy is elusive and appears absent. Perhaps one day I will experience that joy again. I suppose I just need to trust in God and His timing.

Until next time...

Pax Christi!

Psalm 13

Upon reading today's psalm there was only one thing that came to my mind. I could have very easily written this psalm word for word for word. The first four verses of it are basically every prayer I have cried out to God with in the last three years summed up pretty neatly.

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and answer me, O Lord my God! Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death, and my enemy will say, "I have prevailed"; my foes will rejoice because I am shaken. (verses 1-4)

To me, this psalm just screams as though it's written by someone who is deeply depressed and has been for a very long time. I know that's why it resonates so powerfully with me. I think I've read this particular psalm a couple of times during the last three years, but it always bugged me because verse four wasn't the end of things. Here's verses 5 and 6:

But I trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

I've struggled mightily with all of the things in the first four verses and the last two verses seemed like a foreign language to me. I had gotten to such a deep dark place and had been there for so long that it's fair to say that I lost my ability to trust in God's love for me -- much less any ability to rejoice in His salvation or sing because of His generosity toward me. In fact, as for singing, I've had difficulty singing His praises until very recently. I'll be honest, those two verses still ring a bit hollow to me. I'm a work in progress -- as we all are -- and the journey of recovery and healing that I'm on is a long one. I'm seeing little victories, but there are still a lot more difficult days and mood shifts that go down than ones that go up. Perhaps one day I will be able to connect with the truth in these two verses that I know is there.

Until next time...

Pax Christi!

Suicide Prevention Week - How You Can Help

Today's the day! It's both World Suicide Prevention Day and National Suicide Prevention Day (USA).

One of my favourite charities that works to #StopSuicide is the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. They are so dedicated to working toward their goal of reducing the number of suicides nationwide by 20% by the year 2025. I was so honoured to work with them by participating in one of their two national Overnight Walks this past summer in Boston. Not only was the walk an amazing experience, but my fundraising efforts were added to all the rest to total just over $3 million raised. That money will go to the various programs AFSP has which:

• help educate teachers, school administrators, students, businesses, and other professionals about suicide prevention and how to identify and help those in their schools and workplaces who may be at risk
• help those who have survived the loss of a loved one to suicide with grief support that is tailored to that specific kind of loss
• help local, state, and national government lawmakers create laws which will help raise awareness, educate others, and better enable those who need help to get it
• help raise awareness about suicide prevention through community programs, public service announcements, social media campaigns, billboards and the Field Advocacy program
• and help schools and other large organizations identify individuals who are at risk and help connect them with mental health services

I highly encourage you to consider getting involved with this organization in some way. Suicide is 100% preventable, but no one person can accomplish that feat. I may be wrong, but given that 41, 149 people died by suicide in America in 2013, I'd wager that the vast majority of Americans have been touched, in at least some small way, by suicide.

But being touched by it isn't enough. We need to use that sadness and grief to spur us into action to prevent other deaths. 41,149 deaths by suicide is 41,149 too many.

So what can you do?

1. Share your story of how suicide has touched your life. If it's a personal struggle, it may be very hard to share it, but know that by being courageous, you may just save a life. 
2. If you've already shared your story, keep sharing it. Once is great, but sharing it again and again reaches more people and that's the point of awareness -- to reach as many people as possible with the message.
3. Learn the warning signs of suicide. Check out this great graphic:
   
   Notice that first warning sign -- talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself. The others are very important, but if you hear someone talking about wanting to die, then STOP and PAY ATTENTION. Anyone who exhibits that warning sign should be taken very seriously. 
4. Educate yourself about mental illness. At least 90% (if not more) of people who end their own lives were struggling with a mental illness of some kind. It may have been diagnosed, but often it is something that hasn't been diagnosed for one reason or another. All mental illness carries with it some risk for suicide, but Major Depressive Disorder (aka Depression), Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) are the most common among people who have killed themselves. Learn the symptoms and signs of these illnesses and use that information to help those around you who are struggling. Encourage friends and family to seek out a professional evaluation if you or they suspect they may have a mental illness. A proper diagnosis is CRITICAL to getting proper treatment and going it alone because you're afraid may make things worse.
5. Get involved. Even if you can't do a community or Out of the Darkness walk with the AFSP or raise a lot of money, you can still make a difference. If you have access to a computer, you can #BeTheVoice for those who are struggling and need help by getting the word out via social media. You can do what I do and blog about suicide prevention and mental illness. You can reach out via phone, letters, and emails to your local and state governments and your national representatives and senators. You can write and call local television and radio stations on behalf of someone who is raising money. You can help organize a community walk fundraiser. You can make a commitment to pray every day for those who struggle and those who help them. There's LOTS to do.

I'll close this National Suicide Prevention Day with a special prayer to God, asking for the intercession of my patron saint, St. Dymphna. She is the patroness of mental illness and mental healthcare workers and is someone I've asked to pray for me many, many times. Feel free to pray along with me (the following is from a prayer card I have, hence the odd mention of "nervous disease"):

+ O merciful God, you have willed that St. Dymphna should be invoked as the patroness of nervous and mental disease. Grant that, through the prayer of this youthful martyr of purity, those who suffer from nervous and mental illness may be helped and consoled. I recommend to You in particular those who are struggling with suicidal thoughts that You would send loving hands and hearts to help them out of the darkness of hopelessness and despair and into the light of a new day. Grant them skilled and compassionate mental healthcare workers, a strong network of support, and the strength to persevere to the natural end of their lives. Through Christ, Our Lord. Amen. +