Day Three: Create

This blog post is part of my 2017 Write 31 Days blog series 31 Reflections on Mental Health and Illness. To read the whole series, click here for the series index page.

There is power in art. It has the power to transfix, move, inspire, enlighten, excite, overwhelm, and even heal. Most of these powers are found in the finished work of art -- whether that is a painting or book or movie or piece of music -- but the healing power of art is often found in the creation of it.

As someone who has spent a lot of her life involved in singing, dance, and theatre arts, I have a deep appreciation for all the many forms that art takes. Although I am not very gifted when it comes to the visual arts like drawing, painting, or sculpture, I find myself drawn to them and drawn to try to create something using paints, pencils, or other media. I used to wonder why I felt this way, but the older I have gotten, I think the reason is that I find something in creating a piece of visual art that benefits my mental health. There is nothing quite like skimming a pencil, pen, brush, or even a crayon over a fresh white sheet of paper and causing it to bring forth shapes, lines, and colour. Likewise, there is something infinitely satisfying about the feeling of clay, fabric, or yarn in my hands as I manipulate it into something that pleases me or expresses what I am feeling. It soothes and comforts my spirit to create. The very act of creation can be healing in and of itself, but creating something can be healing in another way.

One of the things that I am most adamant about when it comes to mental health is talk therapy. I have been through hours and hours of therapy. After all these years, you would think that I have this talking thing down. The problem is that even though Pendragon (my therapist of just over 8 years) knows me better than nearly anyone (save my husband), there are times when I find it hard to express what I'm feeling in words. That's when I sometimes turn to creating something that, hopefully, expresses what is inside my head and heart better than I can verbalise.

I didn't always do this, but about two years or so ago, I got a spiral bound sketch book and some basic art supplies (crayons, coloured pencils, oil pastels, markers) and every time I was feeling like I needed to get something out but couldn't find the words (or wasn't able to talk to Pendragon at that moment), I would get out the sketch book and start creating. The first time I did this, I was away from home visiting my in-laws and feeling really overwhelmed by the cacophony of all the noise and activity in their house, so I went to the local Panera Bread with my art supplies, grabbed a cup of coffee and settled in for an hour or two. When I left there, I felt more grounded and better able to manage my emotions.

Later, when I got home, I shared what I had drawn with Pendragon. He asked me questions and made observations about it (some of which surprised me) and I was able to glean an insight or two as well. After that experience, I packed my art supplies in a backpack and now whenever I am going to be away from home for several hours (and I know that I'll have an hour or so free time while I'm gone), I grab the backpack and take it along. Most recently, I was struggling to explain to Pendragon my current mental state, so I decided to try to draw it out. I'm not a great artist, but when I showed it to him at our next session, he immediately connected the dots and helped me to better understand it too. He also pulled some meaning out of it that, while not something I'd originally intended, was startlingly accurate and very helpful in my healing.

If you are struggling to express your feelings or need a way to help release some difficult emotions, I encourage you to create something. You can use whatever materials you like. The only rule I have for myself when I create a piece of therapeutic art is that I draw what I'm feeling and I don't hold back. If it's happy, I draw happiness. If it's sad, I draw sadness. If it's dark and dangerous, I draw dark and dangerous. If it's a mix of emotions, I draw the mix. The reason I don't hold back is that I want to be honest about my feelings -- even the really difficult, messy, and scary ones -- so that I can find healing through the act of creation. So go forth and create!

P. S. Sometimes I create by baking something. I've always loved baking (and cooking) and I am pretty good at it too. I find the repetitive movements involved in the process (chopping, peeling, stirring, kneading, measuring, etc) very soothing and it's always fun to see and eat the end result of all that work.

Day Two: Tell

This blog post is part of my 2017 Write 31 Days blog series 31 Reflections on Mental Health and Illness. To read the whole series, click here for the series index page.

When it comes to caring for your mental health, in my opinion, there's no more important thing than today's prompt. One of the lies that a mental illness will tell you is that you are totally alone in your struggles and that if you tell someone about what you're feeling or thinking, no one will care or believe you or they'll think less of you. This is often a hard lie to overcome, but it is an absolute requirement that you overcome it. If you don't tell someone, it won't have even a prayer of getting better. Once you overcome this, you've taken your first step on the road toward healing and health. With that in mind, here are three "tells" that are helpful as you journey forward.

1. Tell a licensed professional therapist or counsellor.

Talking to a friend or family member about what you're feeling is a great first step and it will help to a certain degree. We all need friends and family around us who are willing to listen when we need to vent, but if you're struggling with mental illness, just venting isn't going to be quite enough. A counsellor provides a neutral, non-judgmental, and outside perspective on what you're going through. They can also see things that you (and your friends or family) may not be capable of seeing due to their education and experience. Finally, a counsellor or therapist can refer you to a psychiatrist if you need medication, a psychologist for testing or more focused treatment, or other helpful resources that apply to your situation. A counsellor isn't there to tell you what to do or fix the issue for you. They are there to listen, offer perspective and insights, and guide you toward helping yourself.

Oh, and if you need to vent, they are there for that too. I have lots of people I can vent to, but there is something quite different about venting to my therapist inasmuch as I can say absolutely whatever comes into my head without fear of judgment. For his part, he often replies to my venting with something that brings about a new insight for me or helps me process whatever I'm venting about in a way that a friend or family member just can't do.

2. Tell someone if you are having thoughts of suicide.

This one is an absolute MUST. I cannot stress the importance of this one enough.

If you are thinking of killing yourself -- even if it's just a fleeting thought that goes away -- tell someone about it. It doesn't really matter who you tell, so long as you tell someone. Thoughts of suicide are serious and I want you to keep living. You can tell:

• a friend 
• a family member
• a therapist/counsellor
• a doctor or nurse
• a minister 
• a coworker
• a police officer or firefighter
• or even a stranger. 

So what if you don't feel comfortable telling anyone in your day to day real life because you're afraid of being judged or of what will happen to you if you confess those thoughts? You can tell someone and remain anonymous.

• In the US, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or you can go to their website and use their online chat to talk to someone about those thoughts. 
• If you don't want to talk to someone on the phone or via online chat, you can also text. Just text the word HELP or TALK or HELLO to the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 and a trained crisis counsellor will text with you about what you're feeling. 

I keep both of these numbers stored in my phone contacts so that if I'm struggling and need an immediate listening ear, I don't have remember them or look them up in the moment. I would encourage you to do the same or at least jot them down on something to put in your wallet or purse.
 
3. Tell your story.

This one may seem counter-intuitive, but trust me. Telling your story can be incredibly helpful and healing. Despite the fact that we are talking about issues surrounding mental health and mental illness more than ever these days, we still have a long way to go toward eliminating the stigma that surrounds this subject in our society. People remain very shy and secretive about the fact that they have struggled with depression or anxiety. They worry about what others will think about them if they know or they consider it a "personal" matter that isn't something that they feel comfortable sharing with anyone. They may get treatment for it, but they do it quietly and perhaps no one ever knows, but them and their tightest inner circle.

Besides getting treatment, one of the best things I ever did for myself was to start writing about my struggles with mental illness. It was really hard when I began sharing openly about depression, anxiety, PTSD, struggles with my faith, etc. but the more I have shared, the more I have begun to understand how much it helps me. Eventually, I wrote a public declaration of the fact that I will no longer remain silent about my struggles with mental illness. I shared that one blog post as far and as wide as I could. I asked others to consider sharing it too. I am convinced that if more of us were completely vulnerable with each other, then in time, the stigma would be significantly reduced to almost nothing and those who struggle would realise that they are not alone and would feel comfortable getting the help they need.

This is why I encourage you to tell your story to the world. You need not blog about it or share it all over Facebook. You can start small by telling a friend, coworker, neighbour, or acquaintance that you've never confided in about your struggles. You can join a mental health advocacy group and tell your story to those in the group. Of course, you can blog about it too. For me, telling my story has involved all of those and by and large, it has had a real healing effect on me. There is something incredibly powerful about bringing your struggles into the light which makes you stronger and the illness weaker. By giving voice to your pain and mental health struggles, you also encourage others who may be fighting their illness without help to know that they are not alone and that help is available. It may be hard (and it's still hard for me sometimes), but I know you can do it!

Day One: Worship

This blog post is part of my 2017 Write 31 Days blog series 31 Reflections on Mental Health and Illness. To read the whole series, click here for the series index page.

To be honest, this is both an odd and logical place to begin talking about the topic of mental health and mental illness. It is odd inasmuch as it isn't what I'd have chosen to start with, but it is logical for me to begin with it as a person of faith. For me, worship of God is essential to my whole life and for my mental health, it is absolutely critical. It is vital to the point that if I am forced to be away from it for a week or two, I find myself struggling harder mentally and emotionally. 

As a Catholic, what worship means to me is the Mass. The Mass is where the supreme sacrifice of Christ is represented and He comes to offer Himself as nourishment for our bodies, minds, and souls through the Holy Eucharist. He is truly present --- Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity -- in the consecrated host and in the cup and partaking of that gift is a kind of sustenance that gives me a whole lot more strength than I have normally. That's because when I receive Jesus, I am receiving an infusion of His perfect, salvific grace. That is extremely powerful. So I receive communion during worship and go out and conquer all the mountains of mental illness, right?

Actually, no. It doesn't quite work like that at all. 

What happens is that it gives me strength for the journey and a lifeline when I am falling fast into the darkness and want to give up. In truth, I don't often feel like worship of God benefits me at all, but that's because day to day, I can't see the bigger picture. Day to day, I'm focused on housework, parenting our three daughters, my marriage, my advocacy work, and therapy. Some days, I'm simply focused on breathing in and breathing out and making it to the end of the day. 

So how do I know that this Holy Eucharistic nourishment that I receive each week as I worship God in community with my fellow Catholics is, in fact, something that benefits me?

 

It's when I've gone through the darkest darkness and am bereft of the mental ability to choose life and light that I see it. When I find myself on the other side of those great chasms of despair which threaten to take me away from this existence, I can look back and see His strength guiding my hands, feet, and even my addled mind. I can see how the graces I receive each week enabled me in those moments to reach out and find a hand to hold to help me back to a place of sanity and life instead of death.

For me, it's that critical. It is, at times, quite literally, the difference between attempting suicide and staying safe. It sustains me in the good times, but when my mental health takes a serious nosedive, that is when I truly believe it makes ALL the difference. I think that's why I feel kind of Jesus-anemic when I haven't been able to go to church and receive Jesus in Holy Communion. I need Him like I need water and air and food. 

For the last two Sundays, I've been unable to meet Him and receive Him in my weekly worship and I can tell. Thankfully, the Church offers Jesus to the faithful every single day of the week at Daily Masses, so there are other opportunities than Sundays. It's hard to find the time on a weekday, but for me, this week, I think it's going to be a priority to come and worship Him again even before next Sunday. 

I'll end with a quote from one of my patron saints, Pope St. John Paul II, which I think sums up this need and desire for worshiping and receiving Jesus in the Eucharist:

Introducing: 31 Reflections on Mental Health and Illness

 

The background of this is images from a special box I made during a period of intensive outpatient therapy. The many images are reflective of who I am, things I like, and goals I set for myself during that time.

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” 

– Ferris Bueller

Indeed, life does move fast and it hardly seems like two years have passed since I did my first Write 31Days series. I remember being rather daunted by the prospect of writing every single day on a single topic, but felt like God was pushing me to both write and to write about my struggles with mental illness. That series was called 31 Days of Stumbling ThroughDepression and it was about my struggles with a particularly difficult episode of depression. Had I known then what I know now, I would have titled it a bit differently and changed the word “depression” to either “PTSD” or “mental illness.”

At the end of that series, I had intended to keep writing my story, but discovered that I needed a break from it. Instead, I started writing other things about faith, family, and life in general. The thing is though, that try as I might, I couldn't get away from the subject of mental health or my personal struggles. I took a pretty long break from writing a lot about it, but eventually, with a mention of something here or a post on a subject there, I kept writing about it in a roundabout sort of way. My posts have been sporadic at best and not really much of a story, except for the fact that much of the things I've written have been pieces of my story.

I thought that I wanted to continue where I left off two years ago with this year's series, but after much discernment and looking at this year's Five Minute Friday Free Write prompts for 31 Days, I decided to go in a different direction. Part of my discernment about this included the fact that, as in the last two years, I have a lot on my plate with staying on top of my mental health, family life, and helping organise our local Out of the Darkness Community Walk for Suicide Prevention.

To that end, instead of continuing my personal story, I am going to use this year's FMF prompts to do a series of reflections on mental health and illness. Each post will feature the day's prompt word and a brief reflection on a mental health or illness topic. Although I'm not going to really do these in five minutes or actually as a free write, I want to keep them fairly short and edit them as little as possible so as to keep with the spirit of Five Minute Friday. Although this won't exactly be a continuation of my story, I will be sharing pieces of it at times along the way as well as sharing things I've learned through my journey.

I hope that you will find these posts to be helpful and educational in some way. Please feel free to leave me comments and let me know if you found them helpful. I'd also love to know your thoughts on these topics too! Most of all, my prayer is that these posts will serve to bring light to the darkness and hope for those who may be struggling (or watching a loved one struggle) with mental illness. God bless you!

A Reflection on 9/11 and Mental Health

Mom: "They're all gone."
Me: "What? What are you talking about?"
Mom: "The Twin Towers. They're gone. They're all gone!"
Me: (starting to cry) "Oh dear God. All those people..."

That conversation with my mom is how I found out that the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City had been reduced to rubble. I was living at home, working at a local restaurant, and was off that morning. As usual, my dad had made breakfast and after eating, I decided to have a second cup of coffee and watch the Today Show with my mom. I had worked two double shifts in a row prior to that day and was still plenty tired. As I snuggled on the couch with our cocker spaniel curled up on my feet, my eyelids grew heavy and I began to drowse. At some point, mom woke me and said that there had been an explosion at one of the two Twin Towers and although I heard her, I was so sleepy that it didn't really register completely. I nodded for a bit more and then upon halfway dropping my coffee cup in the floor, decided to give it up and go back to bed for a bit. At some point after witnessing the towers collapsing, my mom woke me up to tell me the news.

I couldn't believe it. It was unfathomable and hard to wrap my head around. I remained glued to the TV for a good part of that day and the next, desperate for some scrap of something that would explain it in a way that I could really understand. As I watched and the rest of the story unfolded about the two other planes, the FAA's grounding of all flights, the military jets who were scrambled to patrol the airspace above us, the Americans stranded abroad and stranded in cities in the US away from home, the terrified people covered in ash and soot fleeing away from Ground Zero, and the many things we just didn't know yet, I began to feel terrified. The footage of the planes crashing into the towers was played over and over, people were interviewed who were desperate for word of their loved ones, and there was practically nothing else on television or the radio.

Everyone was absolutely consumed with a need to know anything and everything about what had happened. 

Then still photos and more video became available.

Then I saw it.

At first it was just a brief glimpse of part of a video and the person who was talking about what was happening said that it was a person who had jumped from one of the floors above the impact zone in that tower. They had chosen to die by suicide rather than wait around and die by fire. The video was shot from fairly far away, but as I watched, I saw a very tiny human shaped speck in free fall toward the ground.

I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up. I felt an intense fear grip me and my heart began to race. My heart broke for that poor soul who felt so hopeless and scared that he or she chose suicide. My heart broke again as I understood that the reality of the situation was that there was no way that that person could be rescued even if he or she had chosen to wait it out and stay alive.

I felt something else too, but I didn't realise what that feeling was until just today. 

You see, thanks to a Facebook friend, I saw that image again today. She posted a much closer range, much clearer still image shot of a person who was in free fall, having chosen to die by suicide that day. She added the comment, "Never forget the reality of 9/11. Shocking image -- but so important to remember."

I felt that feeling of intense fear grip me again and my heart began to race. I knew as my eyes took in that photo that was so clear that I could tell you what the person was wearing, that what I was feeling was the feeling of having my PTSD triggered. Fear is a kind of anxiety and whenever I feel anxiety, it almost always means that I am re-experiencing trauma from my past. In my case, what I felt on 9/11 as I watched that video footage and today as I saw the still image of a person in midair, was a re-experiencing of trauma from my childhood where I felt trapped. I was trapped in wholly different way as a child, but it was still a situation of feeling like there was no good way out and that no matter what I did, I would suffer horribly.

When I saw that video footage at age 25, something inside me went back to when I was a child and a teenager and although what I was witnessing wasn't literally happening to me, in a sense, it was happening to me -- at least in some part of my mind. Anytime I get too close to the graphic details of someone's death by suicide, it has that affect on me. Part of this is because I have attempted suicide three times, so there's a strong association with that too. While this person's situation was different than my struggles with mental illness, there is a common thread between us in the feeling of being trapped. He or she was quite literally trapped with no way out but to die in one way or another. I felt trapped, but because of my mental illness was unable to see the reality that I could find a way out that didn't mean death by my own hand.

Seeing that photo today brought it all back to me in a flash. My friend said of the image that although it was shocking it is "so important to remember."

No. No it's not. It's not important to remember all the graphic, gory, horrible, terrifying details. It's really, truly not.

I and many other people like me could live our entire lives without seeing that photo ever again. We could do that AND successfully remember what an awful, life-shaking day that was. It is not necessary to rehash all the nightmarish minutiae in order to recall the events of that day. It is not necessary to subject ourselves or others to the most lurid tidbits each year. For many people who lost someone that day and those who lived through the terror of that day, they will never forget even though they may desperately wish they could.

I don't need to purposefully expose myself to all of that in order to remember and not forget. All I need do is look at the calendar.

The date itself -- September 11th -- will, to quote President Franklin D. Roosevelt, live in infamy in the hearts and minds of those who were alive to see it. They will recall with crystal clarity how awful it was and the fear of those moments when they realised that our collective culture as Americans had been irrevocably changed forever. They will forever see the date of 9/11/2001 as a kind of dividing line between the way things were and the way things are now.

More to the point, repeated viewing of those kinds of images can negatively affect the mental health of those who see it, especially if they are prone to depression, anxiety, or PTSD or have survived a suicide attempt. I know it negatively affected my mental health today.

I'll be 100% honest and transparent. I haven't been in a great place over these last few months and came very close to attempting suicide in July. It's why I've not been posting much. I've been working hard in therapy on trying to process trauma and one of the side effects is that it stirs up a lot of emotions that I've spent my whole life trying to stuff down. It's hard, but I have the help of my support team and strategies to keep myself safe and cared for when things are really hard. Sometimes though, something comes along that triggers something and there's not a blessed thing I can do about it. Today was one of those days. That photo triggered me and it made me mad.

I got mad because it wasn't necessary for me or anyone else to see it and now I can't get it out of my mind, so here I am writing about it. I got so mad that I unfriended the person who posted it and reported the post to Facebook. I rarely ever do something like that, so you can bet if I do, there's a good reason. For me, the reason is that I don't need someone in my life who is that insensitive to others and I'm pretty sure that posting that kind of thing goes against Facebook's terms of service.

I don't expect everyone around me to know or understand my personal triggers, much less be responsible for not triggering me. I take full responsibility for that. What I do expect is for someone to understand that it's not okay to post stuff that is very obviously upsetting to a large percentage of the population.

Please hear me when I say this: posting photos of suicide is NOT okay ever. NEVER EVER EVER EVER. There is NEVER a good reason to post a photo of suicide on social media or use it in a news article on TV or the internet. If you get nothing else from what I'm saying here, PLEASE get this.

Even if it doesn't trigger anyone, it's disrespectful to the person who has died and to their family. But the thing is, research has shown that publicly posting photos or videos of suicide IS triggering and can create a kind of contagion effect where others wind up attempting suicide too. Even if you don't know the research, I just cannot understand how anyone thinks that it's okay to post something like that. There's just NO need for it and it can do so much harm.

If you want to remember 9/11 or any other major event by looking at photos or videos like that, go ahead. Just leave me and everyone else out of it by keeping them to yourself.

Quick Update -- November

It's been well over a month since I've written. I'm still alive and kicking, although more than a little bit busy. This time of year is normally very busy for our family (LOTS of birthdays, feast days, holidays, parties, school performances, etc), but it has been made even busier by an increase in therapy for me. I'll just suffice it to say that I was dreading the general election on November 8th for various reasons and then the results hit me very, very hard. I am, quite honestly, still trying to recover from that. That may not make much sense to many of you, but it is where I'm at right now. Perhaps one day I'll write more about what happened that day and what I'm currently feeling, but now is not the time for it.

Speaking of writing, I don't know how much I'm going to be writing in the next month or so. I'm kind of re-evaluating what I want to write about in this blog and if I even want to continue this blog at all. I think it serves a purpose at times, but sometimes I'm not sure that it's what I want to keep doing. I have a lot of thoughts in my head and ideas for posts, but I'm struggling a lot to make any of it make sense or sound coherent. I'm also struggling to stay true to my goal of writing on a consistent basis. I'm not totally ready to give it up, but I'm trying to discern what the best path is for me. Right now, this blog is definitely on the back burner as my family and my spiritual and mental health are my top priority.

If you want to keep up with new posts, the best way to do that is to like my blog Facebook page (Tales From A Southern Catholic Momma). When I post something new here, I'll add a post there with a link. It seems the easiest way to handle things. For now, that's about all I've got.

Pax!

On Faith, Being Real, and Writing

I am a Christian. More specifically, I am a Roman Catholic Christian. I realise that this doesn't come as a shock to many of you who read this and if you're halfway observant, it probably doesn't come as a big surprise even if this is your first visit to my blog (I mean the blog name is a dead giveaway).

So why am I stating this again? Because I've been wondering exactly how obvious a thing it is to those who read or glance at my blog on a regular or semi-regular basis. I don't hide my faith here, but I don't shout it from the rooftops either. It's not that I am averse to shouting about it or being bold in proclaiming it, but rather that my faith is such a deep part of me that it naturally comes to the surface when the need arises. I've always viewed it as a kind of organic thing in the writing of this blog.

My goal, when it comes to evangelisation, is to be bold when necessary, but to also be completely real. That desire to be completely real is why you don't see a scripture verse in every blog post or even something related to my faith. I don't recite scripture verses or talk about faith absolutely every time someone sees me in real life, so why would I write about it every single time I write something here in this blog?

Real life is messy, sweaty, disordered, frustrating, difficult, and complicated a lot of the time and so are most people. Yes, we can all clean ourselves up and put our best foot forward when necessary, but most of life is lived in those moments of earthiness when we're not at our best. That's why you won't see a shiny blog banner or tons of carefully crafted graphics or a professionally crafted layout where everything coordinates with everything else. It's just not who I am or what I'm about. It's not the real me.

Many of my fellow bloggers who write about faith are kind of the opposite of me and it made me wonder if perhaps my sort of organic approach to evangelisation meant that my faith was in the shadows and not as apparent as it needed to be. That's the purpose of this, I guess. I want to be sure that who I am is not getting lost in the shuffle.

To that end, I am going to try to write some more about what my faith means to me. One thing that I keep wanting to write up (for myself and to share with others) is the story of how I became a Catholic. There are other topics I want to write about too. I hope you'll read along with me as I write and leave me some comments. I'd especially love to write about any topics you've always wondered about with regard to Catholicism. If you're concerned about me or my salvation as a Catholic, feel free to let me know that and I'll do my best to write something about it.

I'll be continuing to write about mental health/illness topics as I go along, but I want to focus a bit more on faith too. If you like that I'm more laid back and organic, don't worry. I'm not changing that. I'll just be writing about faith a bit more purposefully at times.

Until next time...

Pax Christi (Peace of Christ)!

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!

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.

Psalm 6

All the psalms in the Bible that I'm using have a short phrase that was added by the editors which gives you an idea of what the psalm is about. Today's psalm subtitle is: "Prayer for Recovery from Grave Illness." That actually makes a lot of sense to me as this psalm has been one that I've felt effectively expresses much of what a person of faith may feel emotionally when going through a grave illness. In particular, it resonates with my experience of going through depression.

But depression isn't a grave illness, right? Actually the statistics say otherwise. In the United States alone, some 42,000+ people die by suicide and the biggest risk factor for suicide is mental illness. Given that depression is one of the most common mental illnesses in this country, it's not a big stretch to say that it's likely the illness behind many of those deaths each year.

Even if you don't wrestle with thoughts of suicide though, depression can weigh you down so much that it feels as though you're so deep in the blackness of it that you might as well be six feet under. Those intense emotions of sadness, heartache, numbness, loneliness, and despair are at the heart of the psalmist's prayer to God in Psalm 6:

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror. My soul also is struck with terror, while You, O Lord -- how long? (verses 2-3)

I have absolutely felt every bit of this in the last three years. I've even said to both Gray and Pendragon that I feel as though I'm wasting away, little by little. When the depression gets so dark that I cannot see anything light, there is a kind of terror there that resides deep within my bones.

I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. My eyes waste away because of grief; they grow weak because of all my foes. (verse 6-7)

If I could somehow summon every tear that I've ever shed because of depression, I imagine there would be enough to fill the several gallons. In the last three years alone, I've shed enough tears that there have been many occasions when I thought I would dehydrate myself from crying. I have wept so much that I have moaned and howled with the ache of it. I know that sounds like I'm being dramatic, but it's the truth.

When the emotional pain you feel is as intense as mine has been, you may find yourself at a place where you just can't vent anything with sobbing alone. I'd never had the experience of such intense crying until I lost my ability to cry for several months at the beginning of this depressive episode and eventually had the dam burst in Pendragon's office one day. Since then, I've had quite a few dam bursting moments. The second part of this passage always seems so perfectly written to me: "My eyes waste away because of grief; they grow weak..." I have often felt after a long spate of crying that I feel a great weakness around my eyes, almost to the point of heaviness. I think that might account for how sleepy I often feel following a good cry.

The Lord has heard my supplication; the Lord accepts my prayer. (verse 9)

I think this verse is the hardest for me at times. All the struggles I've had with my faith have shaken me and made it all the harder to pray this verse and believe it. To be honest, there have been times when I have struggled so much with belief that the only prayer I could manage was, "Help. Oh, help." and this out of desperation, more than belief. In moments when the darkness was less heavy, I have prayed "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief." (Mark 9:24) I know intellectually that God hears my prayers and that He accepts them, but given His silence and my inability to connect with His Presence, that intellectual belief offers cold comfort.

Still, because Truth is reality and I have always believed in Truth -- even when I didn't fully understand it -- I keep praying. Also, I know that despite my lack of connection with Him, He is doing things. I still don't like feeling like I'm in the dark and that He is nowhere to be found, but I see the traces of His touch on my soul from time to time. And that is enough.

+ O Lord, I offer this psalm up to You as a prayer from one who has been through the darkest of valleys and still breathes. When the heaviness of this illness lays waste to my ability to see You or believe that You are there, I pray "O Lord, I love. Help my lack of love. O Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. O Lord, I hope. Help my lack of hope." Jesus, I trust in You. Amen. +

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: Morning

It's been a while since I've linked up with my friends at Five Minute Friday, but today's prompt was such a good one that I knew I had to write something on it. I don't exactly do the whole "five minutes" part of it as I'm not good at writing under that kind of pressure, but I love the prompts and reading all the various things people write about. The community are a really great bunch of folks too! If you're interested, check out the link above for more information and to link up with this week's prompt, click here. This week's prompt is MORNING. The following is my take on that prompt in a free verse poetic sort of style.

I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for a day that has yet to come.
It isn't dawn or sunlight or birds tweeting their birdsong
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is what a new morning signifies.
Hope.
Oh Hope, you temptress you.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When the light filters through the trees and illumines the world
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.

I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for the scent of dewy grass and cooler breezes.
It isn't the air so pure with freshness or quiet stillness
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is that I may find new purpose in the morning.
Purpose.
Oh Purpose, how you seduce my senses.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When all the world has just awoken and nothing yet dares to stir,
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.

I am waiting for morning.
This night, this endless, dark night keeps me waiting.
It is the raging tumult of rain and storms, howling wind, and impenetrable darkness
Which keeps me waiting and yearning.
It is these that pull me into hopelessness and worthlessness in this horrible night.
Hopelessness.
Oh Hopelessness, how you tear me apart again and again.
I look for morning
But you blind my eyes and tell me that I will never find morning again.
Worthlessness.
Oh Worthlessness, how you inject your venom like a drug into my heart.
I look for morning
But you deafen my ears and tell me that I am not worthy of seeing morning again.
In this onslaught and torrent
I am buffeted about, as weak as a thin piece of paper.
I am doomed to the night.

Morning with all her promises does not come.
Night and all his terrors abound.
But there are voices in the howling wind.
Voices that I strain to hear.
Voices that urge me to keep waiting for morning.
I am weak, like paper.
I am tired of waiting.
I cannot wait any longer and the night is fast stealing my voice.

Then strong arms hold me fast in the night.
Compassionate and understanding ears hear my wails of exhaustion.
My head and hands are lovingly tended with prayers and oil.
The voices walk with me through the night.
So I wait.
And wait.
And keep waiting.
And although it is still night
And dawn seems unimaginable and impossible,
These supports give me the strength
To keep waiting for morning.

A Few Links for Wednesday

I don't often pass along links, but I save them a lot. Facebook is a place where I find a number of them. If you're on Facebook, did you know that you can save links? It's super easy. Just click (or tap if you're on your phone) the little arrow in the upper right hand corner of the post containing the link and select "save link." It will add the link to your "Saved" page. Then you can go back and look at your links at your leisure. I use this all the time when I run across something that looks interesting, but I don't have time to really read it or look at it right that moment. You can also use this feature to save pictures, videos, and posts (yours or others' posts) to look at later. I love it for all those yummy looking recipe videos that are floating around on Facebook. Anyhow, here's a few links that I've found recently that I thought you might enjoy having a look at. It's a hodgepodge of stuff, but life is a bit of a hodgepodge as well, right?

1. Catholics routinely make the sign of the cross at the beginning and ending of prayers, during Mass, and as a part of other rituals and rites. If you don't understand what it means, it can seem an empty gesture, but the reality is that it's full of meaning. This short video (only 2 minutes, 35 seconds) explains three awesome things that this gesture means.

If you're interested in learning more, this article "21 Things We Do When We Make the Sign of the Cross" from Catholic Exchange is a great list of things that the sign means. Even if you aren't Catholic, I highly encourage you to give either the video or article a look. It's really interesting stuff and will give you a greater understanding of this beautiful gesture of Catholic faith.

2. Since I have quite a few friends who, like me, have kids, I've seen this a few times, but it is really neat. It's a video that shows you how to make your own watercolour paints! Seriously. That is SO cool! I haven't tried it yet, but I really want to give it a whirl and see how they come out. It looks really easy and involves ingredients that most folks already on hand in their kitchen. I could see this also being something fun for grandparents, aunts/uncles, babysitters, or teachers to try. Crafty!

Homemade Watercolors
Posted by Skillshare on Tuesday, February 2, 2016

3. I am an unabashed Anglophile and Hibernophile. This means I really, really love most things that are British or Irish. :) Tea is one of my favourite things and it is so perfectly British and Irish that it might as well be a part of their collective DNA. It's so ubiquitous that they sometimes don't even bother saying "tea" at all, but will instead say to you, "Let's have a cuppa. I'll put the kettle on." Many British offices have tea trollies which are a cart that's pushed around the office so you can grab a cuppa and a biscuit (that would be a cookie to us Americans) for your break or to enjoy at your desk. People drink it black, with lemon, white (with milk), and with or without sugar. A particularly British thing is what many Americans refer to as either "afternoon tea" or "high tea." These are used interchangeably, but did you know they're not necessarily the same thing? This brief article highlights the similarities and differences. A word of caution though: it's likely to make you crave a cuppa and some scones! Here's the Difference Between Afternoon Tea and High Tea!

4. Because I love a good recipe, how about some Samoa Brownies? Om, nom, nom, NOM!!! A friend posted this on FB and I had to save it. They look so delectable and like they'd be pretty easy to make. Here's a picture of the finished product, courtesy of the blog Incredible Recipes from Heaven:

And of course, the link to the recipe! The blog post has step by step pictures to make it easier to see what it should look like as you go alone. Mmmmm....

5. And finally, but, I think probably the most important link of all, this link of a letter "To the Husband With the Wife Who Has Depression" If you don't look at any of the other links on this page, please give this a read. It is written from the perspective of the wife struggling with depression to her husband. I could have written every single word. As I read it, I found myself getting teary-eyed and choked up. So much of the thoughts in it resonate with me and my experience. It expresses not only how hard things are for the wife, but what she needs from her husband in the way of support and understanding. One thing that is different from my experience is that Gray actually knows all of this. I am so incredibly grateful that he does, so I posted this to my FB timeline and tagged him. I also added the following note to him:

I love you so much for knowing all this, for holding me fast through the darkest hours, for helping me grow beyond the place where I stay silent all the time, for being my safe place to fall when I do find reaching out hard, for all the sacrifices you've made for me both big and small, and for loving me mind, body, and soul with the love of Christ. I could say all this a thousand times a day and it wouldn't be enough to adequately express how grateful I am that God joined us together or how deeply I love you. You are my heart and my beloved. Always. xoxoxo 

Hope you've enjoyed one or more of these links! I'll share a few more another time. Have a great Wednesday!

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.

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.

Sunday Funday 2

Hi all! I'm back for another Sunday Funday!

The past couple of weeks have been kinda hectic and stressful, but I've been trying to be good with avoiding sweets late at night. Y'all, I caved this week. I've had a powerful craving for ice cream for about three weeks and I finally gave in this past Wednesday night. I went to our local Publix grocery store with the plan of getting a half gallon of Publix brand Chocolate Trinity for Gray and a half gallon of some other Publix flavour for me. They have all the usual flavours like chocolate, strawberry, mint chocolate chip, vanilla, neopolitan, etc, but my favourites are the limited edition flavours that only appear at certain times of the year. I've had so much in my head lately that I completely forgot what time of year it was, so when I got to the ice cream section and looked through the gleaming glass doors, I got giddy. This is what I saw:

Pumpkin Pie Ice Cream -- my absolute FAVOURITE limited edition flavour. SO good! I had this flavour for the first time at a friend's son's 2nd birthday party about 7 years ago and was immediately hooked. I think they must put crack in it or something. Seriously. That year I think I bought about 5 or 6 cartons of it between when I had it at the birthday party in October and when they finally stopped making it for the year in December. Every year since then, it has been one of my favourite ways of celebrating that fall is here. This year, instead of the regular Publix brand black carton with a nice looking piece of pumpkin pie on the front, they really went all out. Check out the back of the carton. SO cute!

In case you can't read the words, it says, "Buckle your hat, Raise a spoon, And give thanks for dessert." I love the little Pilgrims, the fall leaves and even the bowl of ice cream with its fall leaf decoration. The cup of coffee is also a nice touch, because who doesn't love a cup of coffee or something steamy hot with dessert after Thanksgiving dinner?

I also love how they included this little bit of trivia on the carton about the little Pilgrim salt and pepper shakers. I had no idea they'd been around that long, but that could be because we've only had Publix in our area for about 15 years or so. About three or four years ago, they started airing a Publix commercial in November that features the little Pilgrims sitting amongst a huge Thanksgiving spread. It's such a great commercial that I think they have aired it every years since it first came out. It's one of those that makes you giggle and smile when you see it. Here, have a look:

This is the top of the carton. Notice how the Pilgrims expressions are different here and they're kinda giving each other a sideways glance! They're very expressive for inanimate objects, don't you think? You can actually buy a pair of these for your Thanksgiving table in pretty much every Publix store around the holidays. They're usually about $5-6, I think, so not too expensive. One of these days, I may get some for our holiday table. Need to do a bit more organization first!

And this is the ice cream....oh sooooo good! It's a pale orange coloured pumpkin flavoured ice cream with pumpkin pie spices, bits of pie crust (which somehow stays kind of crunchy), and a whipped cream swirl throughout. I could seriously eat half the carton in one sitting. As it is, I usually finish it in about four servings! Oh and it's seriously awesome with a tiny bit of the Chocolate Trinity flavour in the bottom of the bowl.

 Earlier in the week, I was at Publix getting dinner items and as I passed the dairy case, these jumped out at me! Y'all know what a nerd I am, so I had a hard time not grabbing one or both of these. They also had an espresso chocolate flavoured Darth Vader one and I discovered online that there's two more. One is a hazelnut flavoured C-3PO and the other is a spiced latte flavoured Chewbacca! FUN! I may need to find the Chewbacca one because I love Chewy and spiced anything in my coffee always sounds yummy this time of year. I told a friend online that it would have been awesome if they'd done a Princess Leia Cinnamon Bun one. I mean, come on. How awesome would that have been?

In other food related news, we had some pretty tasty homemade tamales this evening courtesy of our parish's hispanic ministry. They were selling them to raise funds for some of the projects they do and they were $2 apiece or $15/dozen. M2 has been looking forward to the tamale sale since last Sunday when she spotted the announcement in the weekly bulletin! I wasn't sure how she was going to like them, but she seemed to really enjoy the chicken one she had. AB enjoyed hers too, but our littlest, Miss GB, wouldn't touch them. Hooray for the picky almost-3 year old phase! (Not!)

So that's my fun stuff for this week! See you next week!

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. +