Day Two: First

When life comes along with a challenge or a task which seems complicated or overwhelming, many people ask the question, "What do we do first?" It's the natural human way of approaching something that has lots of pieces, parts, steps, or that seems difficult to understand or navigate. First steps are important to get right because they can often determine the course of things or the order of any steps which come after it. They may even determine the outcome of a particular endeavour.

When you realise or someone else realises that you are experiencing symptoms of what may be a mental illness, it is the perfect question to ask. There are a few different first steps that can be taken when this is the case:

1. Make an appointment with your regular doctor. 

At this appointment, talk to him or her about your concerns and your symptoms. As your regular doctor knows your medical history, he can use that to determine if perhaps your symptoms are related to an issue you already have and if so, what the appropriate action is. He may order blood or imaging tests to rule out certain physical illnesses which may have symptoms that are the same as what you are experiencing. He may prescribe medication or change a medication that you already take. He may also go ahead and refer you to a psychiatrist and/or therapist.

2. You can make an appointment with a therapist or psychiatrist.

If you have many symptoms that seem to fit a particular mental illness and you are reasonably sure you aren't physically ill, you may choose to do this as your first step. Like meeting with your doctor, a psychiatrist or therapist can help you understand if you do have a diagnosable mental illness that needs therapy or medications. If you do not have a diagnosable mental illness, a therapist or psychiatrist can still help you in dealing with the symptoms or particular challenges of whatever is actually going on which is causing the symptoms -- including if it's caused by a physical illness of some kind.

3. If you realise you are having symptoms of a mental illness, but no one else around you has noticed, tell someone.

This is a hard first step, I know. It requires a lot of courage and some discernment too. It may be the very last thing you want to do, but it's critical if you want to get better. I know that sounds like I'm exaggerating, but it really is that vital. If you have a mental illness, you're going to need a strong support system outside of your doctor and/or therapist. You're going to want someone you can call or text or visit with who will listen, be there for you, and walk with you through it. Since not everyone is equipped to handle being that kind of support, that's where the discernment comes into play. You want to choose someone who you trust and who you know you can count on when things get hard. Ideally, this should be someone who is close enough to where you live that you can be around them in person, but it doesn't have to be. Even better would be for you to have more than one person you can talk to about things, so that if one person is unable to be there in a given moment, you've got other people you can turn to when things go pear-shaped.

4. If you don't have anyone you can tell how about your symptoms, try calling the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (TALK) and talk to someone there. 

You don't have to be suicidal to call them. They are trained to listen and can offer a way of venting your feelings if you have no one you can turn to in your day to day life. They can also provide you with resources to find help in your area if you don't know where to start looking. I keep this number in my phone for myself for those times when I know that my support people are either tapped out emotionally or physically or when they're unavailable for some reason (like being out of contact because of vacation or limited access to phone or the internet). I have called a few times as well when I had my normal supports available, but was struggling to reach out to them like I normally would. The Lifeline is a great resource for anyone who is struggling with mental health issues and for those who are part of their support team.

Just as there are positive first steps you can take as you start a particular task, there are ones that, if taken, will make your task all the harder. With that in mind, here are three "first steps" to avoid:

1. Staying silent and trying to go it alone. -- Silence helps no one, least of all, you. If you're dealing with a mental illness, going it alone and trying to muscle your way through it in silence will only work for so long. Ask me how I know this.

2. Freaking out and doing nothing. -- This is a hard one to avoid because it's a very common reaction when you're dealing with something that is as overwhelming as the symptoms of mental illness can be. Also, no one really wants to have a mental illness, so freaking out is pretty normal. Just don't let it stop you completely.

3. Ignoring the symptoms in the hope that they will go away. -- If you have a diagnosable mental illness and you do this, I can guarantee you that it won't work and it will only make things worse. It won't help if your symptoms are the result of a physical illness either. Trust me. Ignoring things and trying to distract yourself from what you're feeling may work temporarily, but in the long run, you'll need some help from professionals in one way or another.

If you follow the first steps mentioned above (and avoid those other first steps), you will be glad you did. It's a pretty tired old adage, but it's true when people say that the first step is the hardest. It is. That first step takes immense courage and when you're already feeling so vulnerable, that can be even harder. Know this though: you CAN do it. You can! I believe in you! Go forth and conquer that first step! Once you've done it, you'll be on the path and then, it's just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and taking it one step at a time.

Monday Joys -- July 11, 2016

I'm a couple of days late in getting to my Monday Joys post, but when you see my list, I think you'll understand!

1. Appointment with Pendragon -- always a good thing, but a much needed thing this past week as things had been very difficult the week before. Ended on a good note as we talked about the weekend to come.

2. Voxing with my buddy Tara and hearing all about her awesome week last week.

3. The Five Minute Friday Twitter party on Thursday night -- couldn't do much chatting as I was exhausted from my day and still had stuff to do, but it's always good to see everyone even if all I do is pop in and say hi.

4. Finally had a doctor's appointment w/my regular doctor after about 14-16 months of not seeing him. I was down in my weight by 8 pounds, which he seemed pleased with and I was genuinely glad to report that I've been making some strides in improving my mental health. He ordered labs for cholesterol and I got a phone call on Monday afternoon that my cholesterol numbers were good.

5. Meeting with Fr. B for spiritual direction and prayer. He gave me a very special gift that he picked up in Rome for me. It was a third class relic of Pope St. John Paul II! I loved him even before I became Catholic and have felt a special affection and kinship with him for a long time, but that has only increased since he's been canonized as a saint. Fr. B blessed me with the relic and then gave it to me. I cried tears of joy which only increased when he told me that not only had he brought that back, but that he'd prayed for me at Pope St. John Paul II's tomb while he was in Rome. What a blessing!

6. Appointment with Dr. D for EMDR. It was a very intense appointment as we tackled one of the harder parts of my trauma memory, but I think it was a fruitful appointment. He said that he was very optimistic about my progress and about my future progress.

7. Left Friday morning for Atlanta, Georgia for a "retreat." I put that last word in quotes because although we call it a retreat, it's not a very spiritual kind of thing. It's actually a huge meetup of a group of my friends that I met online some ten years ago. We're a community of women (well mostly women, but we do have a couple of men in the group too) who all practice natural family planning (aka NFP). While a large percentage of us are Catholic, there are a number of different faiths represented from non-Catholic Christian to LDS to Orthodox Jewish as well as some women who do not profess any kind of faith at all. We live all across the USA for the most part, although we also have a number of ladies who live in Canada, and a few more who are in other countries around the world. Every two years, we have a "retreat" where we meet up in a particular city for a weekend of hanging out, talking, laughing, and getting to know one another face to face. The only really spiritual thing we usually do is that we go to the Saturday night vigil Mass together (mostly us Catholics), but even that is a fun experience. I went to my first such retreat two years ago in Kansas City, Missouri and had such a blast that I told Gray I was putting him on notice that in two years, I'd be going to wherever the next one was and to just plan on being without me that weekend. This year, I told him that I'd be going to the one in 2018 even before I left for Atlanta!

It was an amazing weekend! I met several ladies I'd wanted to meet for a long time, reconnected with ladies I met last time, and enjoyed seeing a few of them that I've gotten to know fairly well over the years (who live in my home state). I also felt incredibly loved all weekend long and so supported. That support was very important when I had a flashback on Sunday afternoon at a restaurant. I was so embarrassed by it, but the ladies were so loving, understanding, and supportive that it helped me manage that difficulty much easier than I would have if I'd been alone.

8. Ended my weekend on Monday morning when I took a quick trip to the Atlanta IKEA store after leaving the hotel. I'd never been to an IKEA before, so it was a lot of fun to walk around and see what it was all about. I also grabbed a quick bite in their restaurant before getting on the road to come home. I also bought a few things and made plans to return another day when I have more time to look and perhaps buy something bigger (like furniture) that we need.

9. Seeing my kids again after such a long weekend and being enveloped in their hugs and declarations of how much they missed me and love me.

10. The Barnyard Pimp sandwich from The Pig and The Pint in College Park, GA <--- YUM. SO much YUM! The remainder of the retreatants and I went out to dinner there on Sunday night and 4 of the 7 of us ordered that sandwich. It was marinated fried chicken, sharp cheddar cheese, bacon, avocado, and an apple butter barbecue sauce on an onion roll. As if all that weren't enough, I had their ridiculously delicious loaded mashed potatoes for a side and a Crispin blackberry pear hard cider to drink. Y'all. Just Y'ALL. It was all SO good! We decided that it was our favourite meal of the weekend.

11. Speaking of meals, Friday night's meal at the retreat was super fun too. We kinda all went different ways for dinner that night and I went with a group of seven other ladies (8 of us total) to a local Mexican place down the road from the hotel. We ordered two pitchers of margaritas (trying to be economical since we all wanted one) and although we didn't need the alcohol to turn on our laughter, it certainly increased the giggles. I only had a very small drink since I was driving and it's good that I limited myself because any more than that very small drink and I'd have been over the legal limit for sure. Those margaritas were seriously strong. One of the ladies commented, "They weren't playing around. I think they must have put a gallon of tequila in those two pitchers!" The food was very good and we all enjoyed it. We enjoyed lots of conversation -- which was punctuated with raucous gales of laughter -- along with the food. As we sat waiting for our bills at the end of the meal, we looked up and suddenly saw the staff approaching with a pair of plates and two sombreros. One of the men was carrying a pair of cymbals too. When they reached our table, they put a sombrero on one of the ladies and then put one on me! I was totally surprised! Then they put a plate of sopapilla drizzled with chocolate syrup and covered with whipped cream in front of me and my friend with the other sombrero. We looked at each other in astonishment. "Did you do this?" "No! Did you?" "No!" The entire table shook with laughter as the eight of us tried to figure out who had done this. While all of this was going on, the staff was singing, "Happy Birthday" to us while the man played his cymbals and we laughed uproariously. No one could figure out who had set this up. See, my birthday is in March and my friend's is in February, so neither of us was anywhere near celebrating our birthdays! I'm giggling just thinking about it. We had so much fun that KJ and I have declared that July 8th is, forevermore, our shared NFP birthday. On Saturday morning, one of the ladies who had heard the story of our "birthday" celebration gave both of us a "birthday" card with the inscription, "Happy NFP Birthday!" It was absolutely perfect.

With a bit of luck, next week's edition will be posted on Monday instead of Wednesday. I thought about it on Monday night, but was so tired that I decided it was probably a good idea for me to try and sleep. Then I took one more day to rest up a bit before attempting to write. I had such a great weekend that I needed a day and a half to recover!

Until next week!

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...

Psalm 3

This psalm really hits me where I live. There's so much that speaks to me in it that I could honestly write two or three blog posts on it with no problem at all. Of course when I say that it hits me where I live, I'm talking about depression -- more specifically, the depressive episode I've been struggling through in the last three years.

O Lord, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me; many are saying to me, "There is no help for you in God." (verses 1-2)

Recently, on a couple of different occasions, Fr. B has said to me that he thinks that I've been dealing with not only the psychological part of depression but a definite spiritual part too. I've struggled mightily with my faith for most of this episode and still struggle with it even now at times. Gray has posited on many occasions that he believes I'm being spiritually attacked or oppressed. I'll admit, I've been reluctant to believe that. What I've been seeing are all along are all the signs of spiritual oppression and I've been ignoring them because I didn't want to believe that there was anything demonic going on.

Part of this is that I used to go to a church before I became Catholic where there were some people who saw demons under every rock and attributed demonic influence or attack to nearly any problem. Prayers for deliverance were pretty standard. I even went through prayers for deliverance from depression back then and when nothing happened, I grew very bitter toward the practice. What changed was that I trust Fr. B and his discernment. He's not the sort to see demons everywhere, so when he senses that there's something going on, he is serious. I had been very resistant to any kind of deliverance prayers or ministry until he and I started meeting for spiritual direction. My trust in him allowed me to put my hesitancy aside and let him pray prayers of deliverance over me. And this time, little by little, the various things that had kept me at odds with my faith started dissolving.

Despite this, I still resisted the idea until I had a very powerful experience of being spiritually attacked that frightened me so much that I could no longer ignore all the signs. The next time Fr. B and I met and I told him that, he prayed deliverance over me again and as I wept, he said he sensed something happening with me. I didn't feel any change, but over the next week I had a realization: I have been feeling less anger toward God, less animosity toward my faith, and there has been an increase in my desire to move toward God in the last several months. In short, there has been a very slow, steady healing of faith happening right under my nose and that is due in large part to my having been delivered of some of the spiritual oppression I've been experiencing. My foes have been many, rising up against me and whispering the lies that God will not help me. I had been drowning in the tide of these attacks and had believed the lies, but all of that has been changing.

But You, O Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, and the one who lifts up my head. I cry aloud to the Lord, and He answers me from His holy hill. (verses 3-4)

I know that despite being so attacked, God has protected me. He has protected me as He has from the day of my conception with the presence of my guardian angel. He has protected me through the interventions of my husband Gray, my therapist Pendragon, and my friends who have saved me from myself. He has lifted up my head through the encouragement of dear friends and family. He has heard my cries in the night, in the day, in my bed, in my car, and lying prostrate before Him present in the tabernacle. For a long time, the last part of verse 4 didn't resonate with me at all. I was under such a heavy oppression that I was unable to see Him or hear any kind of answers. To be honest, I still struggle to see Him and hear Him. The difference these days is that I've grown more able to bear what seems like His silence and absence.

I lie down and sleep; I wake again for the Lord sustains me. (verse 5)

Oh this verse! This verse! I'm getting a bit emotional just reading those words. You see I've been absolutely dreaming of being able to lie down and sleep. Sleep doesn't come easily for me. I struggle with horrific insomnia that is brought on by anxiety about lying down and closing my eyes. This is because of the nightmares that I have which take me back to my trauma again and again and again. When I finally do sleep, I don't want to wake because I'm so very tired from fighting nightmares. I don't feel sustained. Of all the verses in this psalm, this is the one I have the hardest time swallowing. It's the one that causes me to want to stop reading and close my Bible. Maybe one day it won't be so hard. Or maybe it always will be. Crosses and such, you know?

I am not afraid of ten thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around. (verse 6)

What a bold statement! In my case, I'm not surrounded by ten thousands of people, but I know there are likely quite a few darker forces at work who have definitely set themselves against me and do their best to not only surround me, but envelop me. Am I afraid? Honestly? Yeah, a bit. I'd like to be as bold as this, but I'm just not there yet. It's a process and one that I'm still muddling through.

Rise up, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked. (verse 7)

Obviously, this is a prayer of the psalmist for help. I don't normally ask for my enemies cheeks to be struck or their teeth broken, but I do ask for God's protection from evil. I also ask the saints to pray with me against any evil that might beset me. St. Michael the Archangel is an especially powerful intercessor against evil because of his special status as the warrior angel who leads the heavenly army in the fight against Satan and his army in chapter 12 of Revelation.

Deliverance belongs to the Lord; may your blessing be on your people. (verse 8)

In the end, I cannot find my way out of any kind of oppression on my own. I need the help of the Lord which comes through prayers of deliverance prayed over me by Fr. B, frequent reception of the Sacraments, and remaining obedient to what is required of me by God. Being so vulnerable and trusting when it comes to this process doesn't come easily for me. I still wrestle with a great many doubts, fears, and a real lack of genuine hope. I still have difficulty with what seems to me to be God's silence and absence. I'd love to say that I'm becoming more mature in my faith through all of this, but I still have so many days when I'm sure that God looks at me and sees a whiny, ill-humoured, petulant child. I want that deliverance now, not tomorrow or next year or when I'm 50 years old. But just as my deliverance itself belongs to God, so does its timing. As impatient and immature as I am, there's nothing for it but to keep pressing on and to keep asking for His blessing and His mercy while I wait on Him.

Five Minute Friday: Quiet (or is it Silence?)

I'm linking up with Five Minute Friday over at my friend Kate Motaung's blog, Heading Home. No, I didn't do this in five minutes, but that's because I learned that five minutes is just not enough for me. So I do Five Minute Fridays my own way. 

Today's prompt is QUIET and I thought I knew what to write, but it just didn't come exactly. This post is something I wrote but didn't publish a few months back. The prompt word is in the post, although it was initially written using a different prompt word which has the same meaning. Confused? Yeah, I know. Me too, friend. Me too. Want to join the FMF party and link up a post of your own? Check out the links in this paragraph for more info, write your post, publish it, and then go to this week's linkup and add your link! Easy peasy!

So without further ado, my post for this week...

****

 

I didn't do the Write 31 Days challenge as I had planned this year, but this post was written using the one of the prompts that my friend Kate Motaung had on her list of prompts for her series 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes. I didn't write this in five minutes, but the prompt spoke to me and reminded me of a memory which I've recalled below.

2009

There is a hushed quiet here. Not even the fluorescent lights hum. The night outside is long since dark and getting darker as the wee hours approach. I am sitting once again in the perpetual adoration chapel of one of the local parishes in our diocese. It is a 30 minute or so drive from our home, but the distance is worth it.

It is here in this absolute silence that I am finding the strength to stay alive.

I come here to the chapel at this hour -- 10:00pm on Sunday night -- to adore Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, to pray, to pour out my heart to Him, and to drink in the silence of this place which is such a 180 degree difference from the chaotic noise of family life. Over these past several months I have been coming here to renew and re-anchor my spirit so that I can fight through another week. I am a committed adorer. That is to say that I have signed up with this parish and committed to come each week at this time and spend an hour with Jesus. There is a married couple who share my hour, but they too enjoy the silence and while we wave to one another or say a brief, "hello" our words are few and the silence is plenty.

It is here in this place that I come to kneel at His feet and adore Him alone. It is here in this place that He meets me and through the silence speaks peace and love back to me. Each week I drink in this quiet and His voice and His face.

Until tonight. Tonight I come as normal and after the adorer before me leaves, find myself totally alone. The couple who shares my hour are out of town, so it is just me and Jesus. The silence is made complete and in it, despite His Presence before me in the Blessed Sacrament, I am struggling to hear Him or see Him. This week has been more than a fight and I have come to this place with fresh cuts on my skin, my emotions raw and ragged, and a head full of darkness. I have come to ask His forgiveness for what I am about to do. But the words don't come and all that comes out is me kneeling and crying aloud, my sobs and wails breaking the silence. There are no words for all that I feel and all I know to say to Him is, "Please Jesus... please... please... please..." Over and over again, my prayer goes up, begging His mercy on me.

As the hour slowly comes to a close, I dry my tears and gaze upon Him in silence as I wait for AB's godfather to come and relieve me. He is a committed adorer too and has the hour after mine. When he enters, I say hello quietly and instead of answering when he asks how I am, I gaze one final time upon His face as I genuflect and make the sign of the cross and then leave in silence.

The car is quiet but for the thoughts racing through my head. The tears that fell so swiftly during the last hour threaten to come again, but don't. The numbness has set in and I am driving away from the chapel and trying to think of where to go and what I need to accomplish the task of ending my life. I drive down the street, my hands and feet going through the motions independent of my brain. Just two blocks from the church, I approach a red stop light and my foot makes the car stop. As the car stops, I am suddenly thunderstruck by what I can only describe as a powerful gut punch in my spirit.

"Come back."

What? My brain stops racing and my heart begins pounding. I look up and the light is still red.

"Come back to Me."

I swallow hard and suddenly feel as though I can hardly breathe. What??

"Come back to Me."

Lord? No, this is madness. I look up at the light again. Why is it still red? There's no traffic coming the other way.

"Come back. Come back to Me."

I can't, Lord. I can't do this anymore. Please don't make me do this anymore... I gaze at the light in a panic. Still red.

"Come back to My Presence." 

Gulp. I am shaking all over, my heart racing and breaths shallow and quick. I am surely losing my mind completely. I'm at a red light, for crying out loud! But the powerful gut punches to my spirit keep coming. The light turns green, but I can't move. I sit there frozen and overwhelmed, my brain's former path toward destruction now derailed and confused.

"Come back to Me."

Okay, Lord...help me Jesus...please... My hands fumble with the steering wheel, but I eventually manage to turn off on a side street and turn around to go back.

When I enter the chapel, I drop to my knees on the closest kneeler and sob aloud, not caring that AB's godfather is trying to pray or that I am meant to be silent. I am so caught up in this moment of pouring my heart out to Him, that I don't even hear AB's godfather get up and come to kneel beside me until I feel his hand on my shoulder. I look up and see that he is praying. He says quietly, "I've been praying for you since you left..." and that unleashes another torrent of tears. He hands me a box of tissues and when I've finished cleaning my face, we pray together in silence and somewhere amidst those prayers, the idea of ending my life fades to a more manageable distance.

After his relief arrives for the next hour, we stand outside the chapel under the silence of the darkened sky and talk about what has been going on with me. He asks if I am going home and I say yes. Then we hug goodbye and he says he'll keep praying for me and for Gray too.

I drive the 30 minutes back to our house, turning over the events of the last couple of hours in my mind. The car is quiet and I find that I am grateful for gut punches that come amidst the silence.

Where I Live

Today is Day 2 in my week-long series using the prompts from the blogger community Blessed Is She!

Where I live the weather is hot from the end of May until the end of September, but even once the calendar flips forward to October, the temperatures still feel far too warm for autumn. This Indian summer paints the days well into the middle of the month and then slowly cools by All Saints' Day to something that begs us to wear a longer sleeve and trade shorts for jeans.

It was in this less hot, but still too warm weather that my friend Liam and I sat outside, talking one Saturday night. He asked my plans for Sunday and for the first time in my life, I hesitated. Church had always been where I lived outside of school and home, with Sunday being the day I looked forward to most. So why did I hesitate? I was tired of chasing God in the same place. The place where I was living looked pale and watery and as another Sunday came closer, I found a dullness within me where desire had always lived.

Liam sensed my hesitation and said, "Why don't you come to church with me?" I asked where he was going and he mentioned another large Southern Baptist church across town from my childhood home. I wasn't very excited about the prospect, but my sense of duty to God kicked in and I acquiesced and rode along with Liam the next morning. The people at this church were nice and very welcoming, but I felt out of place and swallowed up in their numbers. The preaching and music were good, but the message was no different than anything I'd heard before. As we walked to the car, my heart sank and I was much more quiet on the way back to campus, lost in my thoughts.

The weeks passed and although Liam and I tried quite a few churches, none of them seemed to fit me all that well. I resisted going back to my childhood church, partially because I didn't want to answer the "we've been missing you! where have you been?" questions, but partially because I just didn't want to go back. Eventually though, the choices of Southern Baptist churches were getting slim and Liam wanted to look at other denominations. I was terror struck at the idea of moving house altogether. It was one thing to "move my letter" from one Southern Baptist church to another, but quite a different thing to think of changing denominations. So Liam looked elsewhere and the next Sunday, I grudgingly found myself back at my home church.

It didn't last long, maybe three months or so. I never could get plugged into the college group and even though I could now sing with the adult choir, that felt not quite right either. I had been struggling most of the school year with a severe depressive episode and as the spring semester ended, I found that where I lived spiritually was in the Psalms of lament. Liam's roommate, Wood, knew my struggles were hard and one particularly difficult night gave me a long list of scriptures to encourage me and speak to me in this dark night. As I read through those verses, I stumbled onto a Psalm with a footnote saying it was one of the Psalms of lament and I latched onto it and its fellows for dear life.

My dog-eared Bible ceased to be a book, but instead became a life preserver and my temporary place to call home until a new friend helped me find an isle of respite in the storm.

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Join me tomorrow for the next prompt in this series, "Friend" for the next part of my journey!

Five Minute Friday: Meet

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.

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I have to be honest, friends. I'm struggling with this week's prompt. I just feel like I've got absolutely nothing on this one. The crazy thing is that I have lots of ideas about "meet" but not a single one of them seems quite right. So I'm just writing whatever comes into my head.

I guess I could talk about the first time I met my online friend Alun in college and the eight days we spent together getting to know one another. I could talk about how much fun we had when we met and how sad I was to see him go back home to the UK. I could talk about how that first meet up cemented what has become a friendship of almost twenty years now and has grown to encompass his wife and family as well.

I could talk about my trip to Kansas City last summer for a meet up with a group of ladies I've known online for almost 10 years. I could write about how I was nervous that they might not like me as much as I already liked them and how that nervousness melted away the moment I walked into the hotel conference room and was greeted with smiles and people joyfully shouting my name.

I could write about meeting each of my beautiful girls for the first time and how I knew in an instant that I would gladly lay down my life for them without hesitation. I could talk about how Gray and I met...oh wait, I think I covered that one a little bit last week.

I could talk about meeting my new blogger friend Tara during the Write 31 Days Blog Challenge and how our similar topics (depression for me, being the daughter of a mom with mental illness, for her) instantly bonded us and we had what our fellow blogger Jen Daugherty calls a "heart click."

Speaking of Jen, I could also mention how I'm looking forward to meeting her and the other Five Minute Friday folks at the retreat this August. I really am, you know :)

I guess now that my five minutes are almost up, I've written about all of it. I have to be honest though, I'm kind of hoping to meet a prompt that I like better next week.

Alla prossima settimana!
(Until next week!)

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up your entry at Kate Motaung's blog, Heading Home!

Five Minute Friday: Gather

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.

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Then Boaz said to his servant who was in charge of the reapers, “Whose maiden is this?” And the servant who was in charge of the reapers answered, “It is the Moabite maiden, who came back with Naomi from the country of Moab. She said, ‘Pray, let me glean and gather among the sheaves after the reapers.’ So she came, and she has continued from early morning until now, without resting even for a moment.”                   -- Ruth 2:5-7

"Pray, let me glean and gather."

In the last year and a half, my walk with God has been constant but spare. I feel very much like Ruth in this passage -- I've been gleaning behind the reapers and trying to gather what little bits I can from what others around me have left behind. I've been gathering little pieces of prayers, single words from scripture, and barest breaths of the Holy Spirit, trying to cobble together something approximating a faith life. I have looked out over the fields of deep depression and have been unable to find my own way in faith. I have been unable to even see Him amongst the sheaves. My friends and family have prayed for me so faithfully during this season of gleaning and gathering and have tried valiantly to encourage me, but I feel very much as though I have been gleaning and gathering from their leavings rather than having much of a faith of my own.

Part of my gathering has taken the form of obedience despite not being able to sense His presence in the field beside me:

Go to Mass on Sunday and receive the Holy Eucharist.

Gather.

Pray bedtime prayers with my husband and children.

Gather.

Listen to talks on faith.

Gather.

Put one foot in front of the other.

Gather.

Go to therapy appointments.

Gather.

Go to confession.

(gulp) Gather.

Receive the Anointing of the Sick.

Gather. Gather. Gather. Gather.....

Pray for others.

Gather.

Thank God for the small things.

Gather.

Continue my ministry with the choir and cantoring the Psalms at Mass.

Gather (cry). Gather (cry). Gather (cry).

Ask for prayer for myself.

Gather. Gather. (sob) Gather.

Put on my holy medals again.

Gather.

Continue to teach my children about Jesus.

Gather.

Challenge my doubts.

Gather.

Eventually Ruth gathered enough to fill her belly and eventually she rested and was refreshed. Eventually, God rewarded her love and devotion to Naomi despite her pain with not only food and refreshing, but a loving husband and a place in the lineage of Christ. God rewarded her obedience -- her gathering when she had nothing else and knew nothing else to do -- with a legacy that outlived her by over two millennia and continues to this day. 

Ruth gathered among the sheaves.
Although I cannot see His face or hear His voice, I will continue to gather until I need gather no more. 

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

One Lovely Blog Award

I can hardly believe it, but I have been nominated for this award not once but three times recently. I am absolutely bowled over that even one person thought my natterings here are worthy of an award, but three? I am just so humbled. Thank you to all of you who were so generous and kind to nominate me for this.

The first nomination came from my fellow 31 Days blogger buddy, Charlotte whose blog really is very lovely and who is a genuinely lovely person too. The second nomination is from another 31 Days blogger buddy, Barbara who writes so eloquently about being a caregiver on her blog and is someone I'm so very glad to say is definitely a part of my online tribe! Finally, I was nominated by Tara, my sweet friend from 31 Days, whose stories about her mom's struggle with mental illness and her relationship with her mom touched my heart on so many days and inspired me to continue sharing my own story of mental illness. All of these ladies have been a wonderful encouragement to me as I've written my 31 days journey and I am very grateful to have met them and gotten to know them through this challenge.

Day Twenty-two: Old Face, New Place, Same Old Struggle

Time marches on and, unfortunately, the darkness of my depression has gotten in many ways worse. After my last meeting with Pendragon at his Green Tree office, I feel a bit less nervous about his leaving that group, although there is still a part of me that is apprehensive about how this is going to work now that he's going out on his own. One thing that helps is that he has given me his new business card and on it is his phone number and not only can I call, but I can text him! That will make it much easier to get in contact with him if I need to set up an appointment or if things get really bad and I need to talk.

Day Six: After These Messages, We'll Be Right Back...(a little break)

Today I am taking a bit of a break from my story, as it is, to give you a little background and post in a way that is related to the subject of depression, but not as deeply immersed in it as my previous posts. Today I want to talk about a member of my tribe. I have written about this previously (see my post:Finding My Tribe), but I want to tell you a little bit more about one of my tribe members who has acted as a huge support for me during this particular episode of depression.

For the purposes of this blog, I call him Chez. I know he wouldn't care if I used his real name, but it would be kinda strange to do that and then assign pseudonyms to all the other people in my life who I want to mention and who would probably rather remain private. So, Chez it is.

A Note on Pseudonyms

My previous post (Finding My Tribe) referred to a few people in my life by pseudonyms. The reason for this is simple. The web is a big place and there is not much privacy. For the time being, I will be using pseudonyms for those people in my life that I want to mention specifically. To facilitate your ease in understanding who's who, here's a list:

Gray -- my sweet husband, whose favourite colour happens to be gray
M² -- my eldest daughter
AB -- my middle daughter
GB -- my youngest daughter
Sif -- my best girlfriend, Aunt Sif to my girls, and a permanent member of my tribe

Jae -- one of my best friends from childhood
Chez -- my cross country friend
Rikert -- my former teacher, turned friend
Pendragon -- my exceedingly patient, long-time therapist

This list may be updated from time to time as the need arises.

Finding My Tribe

I have always believed in the importance of family. I still do, but the older I get, the more I realise how much family isn't just limited to those you are related to by blood or marriage. I grew up in a family of three. No brothers or sisters, just me and my folks. While there are advantages to this, I always felt a little empty having no siblings to play with. Throughout my childhood, my friends filled in the gap nicely enough, but it wasn't until I got to college that I really craved people who understood me in the deep way that only true family can. Don't get me wrong, I loved my blood family immensely. I just knew that my heart craved someone other than my parents to accept me just as I was. It started when I was a theatre major in college. Theatre majors are a crazy and funny bunch of folks, but they are insanely real and by and large, have some of the biggest and most accepting hearts of any group of people I've ever met. That was the first time that I felt as though I had found my "tribe."