Sunday Morning Alone

I’m counting by fives this morning.  Designs on the kitchen chairs, syllables of people’s names, etc.  It is wearing on my psyche.  Initially, I was excited about the prospects of having this day to myself.  Now I’m wondering if it is such a good idea to be alone all day.  If I’m stuck in a rut of fives, then it may be (is) tempting to put that fifth mark on my arm.  

All alone in the house, it would be easy to retrieve my cache of favored cutting instruments from their safe place. 

But who needs to look?  Chris has left a box cutter on the kitchen counter.

So what are the steps?  How do I slide down into self-injury?

Well, it usually starts with agitation, either by an outside event or OCD rituals that overwhelm.  Internalized pain that needs an outlet.  If I could just feel a little physical pain, it would diminish the pain inside or distract me from the OCD ritual that has consumed me.  Seeing my own blood is an extra bonus that soothes even more.

Focusing on that idea instead of the initial obsession is the next level.  I begin thinking about how a physical injury would feel good, as it has in the past.  I may begin to cause small pain at this point by pinching or punching myself.  Without a new distraction, then this idea of hurting myself becomes the new obsession.

It’s not like it is a sudden, thoughtless action.  Each injury has been a battle of hours, of resistance and fighting with myself.  Sometimes, I am reduced to a crumpled heap, crying on the floor for release from this desire.

So where am I right now on this path?  I have already made a small cut, just enough to see a small amount of blood, not the slash that I envision, and am hoping that this will be enough to suffice this time.  I got up a few paragraphs ago to take a Klonopin (like Valium), and the knife was too tempting.

I know that at this point I should be reaching out to others, but instead have my Droid next to me, hoping someone else contacts me, hoping for the “happy green dot” that tells me someone is texting or emailing me.   I’m taking time off to pray and worship some.

Back from taking time off, the anxiety medication is in effect; focusing on my Father, and relaxing in the ritual comforts of cleaning tasks have allowed the injurious compulsions to pass.  One more battle; not sure if it was won or lost, more like something in between.  Caught between the relief of release from the counting and disgust with myself for succumbing to the compulsions to hurt myself.

Last night, I was bathed in prayer from those who love me, affirming and strengthening me.  So why am I struggling so hard today?  Perhaps it is for that very reason. 

This is no afternoon athletic contest that we’ll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours.  This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels.  Be prepared.  You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own.  Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued….prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare.  Pray hard and long.  Pray for your brothers and sisters.  Keep your eyes open.  Keep each other’s spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out.  Ephesians 6:12-18(MSG)

A heartfelt thank you to those who are walking with me on this journey and whose prayers are strength and light to my soul.

Anxiety and Angels

Yesterday morning, I took my daughter to the fair to care for her rabbit, and I got the car stuck in the mud.  As I was trying to get us un-stuck, I broke out into a panic attack; shaking and hyperventilating all within a millisecond of my realization that something was amiss.  Right in front of Carina.  How debasing.

My daughter took on the persona of the responsible adult while I was having my attack.  She adopted a nonchalant attitude, making light of the situation, and caring for me.  As if I hadn’t been humbled enough lately.  I had to be cared-for by my twelve-year-old daughter.  

When I finally got myself together, we exited the car and ran immediately into my best friend’s husband.  Although I have expressed my disgust with being a damsel in distress, sometimes there is benefit in having a strong man rescue you.  So I was indeed rescued in a timely fashion, and my car was parked legally within moments.

My friend’s husband was gracious, and with the only insult of being called a “city girl,” I figured I got out easy.  But I wondered what the effect was on my daughter.

On our way home, I asked her what she thought happened to me.  She said simply that she saw me have an “anxiety attack,” wording that is not from me.  Later, I discovered that the term came from my husband to explain to the kids what one of my problems is.

Her opinion of the entire situation…”I’ve gotten rather used to it.”  Ouch.  When did I become the charity case of the family?  When did my children start caring for me?  Have I aged them prematurely because of my difficulties?  I think back to the time when they found me huddling in the basement after a dissociative episode and feel so guilty that they had to be exposed to that.

So here I am looking for the positive in this situation…after being in a situation where my daughter hid information from me (another story), I find myself flayed open in front of her.  Example in the works?  I guess so.  An opportunity to talk about a serious situation instead of ignoring it?  Most definitely. 

But the take-away lesson for me is simple:  God provides.  When I was near-collapse with only a child for help, an angel in the form of a friend was sent to me.  A friend who knows all about hysterical women and how to deal with them (if you met my best friend, you’d know what I’m talking about).  It’s a simple thing, really, for God to place people in certain places and times to do his will and provide for the needy.  Simple for God.  Inexplicably complex for me.  If you begin thinking about all the timing that was involved in their family and our family, with their barn animals, the choice of who was going to go get the feed, which way was chosen to walk, how long goodbyes were at home, how long it took to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich…the list goes on and on.  An infinite number of events leading to a few seconds of time where a “chance” encounter occurred.  If that doesn’t show God’s omnipotence, then I don’t know what does.

What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God’s giving.  People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works.  Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions.  You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.  Don’t be afraid of missing out.  You’re my dearest friends!  The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself.  Luke 12:29-32(MSG)

  

I want to be “steeped” in God-reality; to see beyond the curtain of human needs and concerns and walk in faith that my Father is always, always looking out for me even when it doesn’t appear that way to me.

Exposed

Well, the cat’s out of the bag at one of my friend’s house.  I just found out that her teen daughters asked about my cut marks.  Good to know that they know the signs, bad to know that they tagged me rather quickly as a “cutter.”  The darn things heal so slowly.  And it’s frustrating to know that I’ve already picked out where the next cut will be.  Although I’ve cut many times, it will be the fifth scar on my arm, so I see a large slash going the opposite direction than the others; a tally mark.  It seems so completing that it is a temptation in itself.  I guess that’s what you get when you combine OCD with self-injury.

I feel disappointed in myself.  It seems strange to be exposed to people that I am supposed to be an example to, but their mother said that knowing this about me made me seem more “human” to her girls.  I have spent so many years cultivating a persona of self-sufficiency and confidence that I appear to be aloof and “perfect” to so many people.  Knowing that I struggle just like “normal” people puts me back on the level with everyone else.  I want to be reachable.  I want others to feel comfortable confiding in me; this is just such a humbling way to make it happen.

But I guess that’s what this blog is all about anyway.  Showing myself, warts and all.  Hoping that it encourages you to be transparent with your loved ones; because self-disclosure is essential to nurture a true, loving relationship.  After hiding my feelings for so long, it has proved difficult to express them, and sometimes it’s easier to write them than to say them out loud.

I had the unenviable opportunity to express myself in grief this week as we lost a pet.  We figure that a coyote has killed our cat, considering we actually saw a coyote last month; and it attacked our 50-lb dog (who, thankfully, survived the attack).  So our cat, Sibby, has been gone for some time, and this week it hit home that he’s not likely to return.  My daughter and I have been through a lot with this cat, and it is the first pet either one of us has lost (if you discount fish and hamsters).  I have cried in front of my children several times this week; something new for us, and hopefully a healthy example for emotional expression.  Stoicism runs deep in my family, and I want my children to feel differently about showing their emotions than I did.  I want the masks to be down, and the only way that will occur is through example.

 

I look at the ultimate example, Jesus, and how he made himself reachable.  He was open with his expressions; crying at the death of Lazarus, affectionate with his disciples, angry at injustice, gentle with the hurting.  He was honest with his emotions, expressing them as he felt them.  If I want to be more like him, then I need to practice vulnerability with abandon.  Not worrying about how I might be perceived, just being who I was created to be.  Draw me closer to you, Father, and teach me who I am in you.  Show me the new creation that I am because of your Son, and let your light shine in me and through me to light the way for others.

Good Dog!

My therapist is in India right now; he’ll be gone for three weeks, coaching missionary couples on how to strengthen their marriages.  He’s got a blog going if you’re interested:  www.marriagecoachingonthemove.blogspot.com.  As a consolation prize while he’s gone, I’ve got his dog, who also has a blog:  www.harleydogonthemove.blogspot.com.  This may come as a surprise to you, but…*spoiler alert*…Harley doesn’t actually write his own blogs.  You see, he has no opposable thumbs, so I help him out.  The events are all real events, though.

Pretending to be a dog has its benefits.  I’ve started to think that living a dog’s life may be a fairly sweet way to live.  You know, “Hakuna Matata” and all that.  Food is easily prepared, easily stored, and obviously relished.  No toilets ever need cleaning.  If you want a little affection, you just shove your way through to your favorite person and whine.  And when you’re tired, you just plop right down and sleep wherever you are.

Of course, this is the scenario for a dog with a good master.  I am reminded that our dogs were rescued from less-than-ideal circumstances where food had to be fought for, where they were kept in a box with their own feces, and sleep could be disrupted at any moment by strangers who may or may not wish them well.  Affection was sporadic, if given at all, and there was no favorite person to turn to.

Our dogs may think they are mal-treated every now and then.  The Hairbrush of Doom makes Cocoa tremble with fear, and the Vacuum Sweeper of Death sends Smokey scurrying under the table.  They can’t understand that these unpleasant things are for their health and happiness; that sometimes unpleasant things occur so that good things can happen.  In a fallen world, that’s how a good master cares for you.

 It reminds me of the verse that Chris taught the kids when they were little:

“You fathers—if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead?  Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion?  Of course not!  So if you sinful people know  how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him”  Luke 11:11-13

So for those of us who feel like we are waiting for those “good gifts”, and maybe even feel somewhat mal-treated, it is a timely reminder that each day is filled with gifts.  When was the last time I was pleasantly surprised at all the food in my pantry, or do I take it for granted?  How about a warm shower or a sunny day?  Are we spoiled children who are only appreciative when the gift is sufficiently large enough to thrill us?  Or when the gift is what we asked for?  Father, open my eyes to see the gifts all around me.  Show me the goodness in the midst of the trial and the waiting.  Direct my attention to Your love and care and away from any temporary discomfort or distress I may be feeling.  Remind me of your great love for me.  As the well-cared-for dog has no worries and trusts his master whole-heartedly, give me faith in abundance. 

Miles to go before I sleep...

a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

           

I have “ants in my pants.”  Rebounding from a relapse and the resulting depression and physical effects, I now feel full of energy and have a desire to do something.  Something that makes a difference. So what’s the problem here?  It’s the commitment I made when my job ended.  I said I would not go searching for opportunities unless prompted by the Lord to do so.  And I’m not being prompted.  As a matter of fact, I’m being un-prompted.

 Be still and know that I am God…  Psalm 46:10

Every time I recover from a relapse, I buy myself a small piece of inspirational jewelry; a physical reminder that I can come back to fight another day.  Saturday I went out and bought a ring for this past ordeal.  The ring is a Mobius shape, with the quote “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” inscribed on it.  This past healing, the theme of hope has recurred for me, and I thought this quote embodied the hope that even though I have a long way to go, I will get there one step at a time.  Little did I know that there would be an alternate  translation when I went to look up the author of this quote:

From the quote by Chinese philosopher Laozi (c 604 BC - c 531 BC) in the Tao Te Ching, chapter 64. Although this is the popular form of this quotation, another translation from the original Chinese might be "The journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one's feet." Rather than emphasizing the first step, Laozi would have regarded action as something that arises naturally from stillness. (http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/a_journey_of_a_thousand_miles_begins_with_a_single_step)

So this got me searching the scriptures for “still” and “wait” and I came up with an interesting translation:  Isaiah 40:31 is something you are probably familiar with…”Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”(NKJV)  But when I looked at the verse in the NIV, I found that “wait” is translated as “hope.”  I’ve been told to wait, and I’ve been exhorted to hope.  Little did I know that in the original Hebrew, “wait” and “hope” can both be expressed by a single word, qâvâh, which means “to bind together.”  The imagery of the word is a twisting of two cords to make a single rope.  How can this mean “wait” or “hope”?

If I view the two cords as being the present and the future, I begin to see this viewpoint.  As our Father views events from outside of time, present and future events are inexplicably combined for Him.  But for us humans, being able to perceive this binding of time is an enigma.  As we begin to trust (yet another meaning of the word), we see that we can wait and hope for the future events that we know are already twisted into the events that happened yesterday and today.  Knowing that our Father is Lord over time; I can see Him working in past events, I can feel Him in the present, so there is no barrier to hoping, waiting, and trusting that He will continue to be there for me in the future.

Easier said than done.

Getting through an ordeal, looking back and seeing the hand of God is one thing.  Looking to the future and believing in faith that the hand will still catch us as we fall is an entirely different level of faith.  But here is where I find myself, being stretched and pulled to new levels of trust, new levels of “qâvâh.”

Wait for the Lord;

Be strong and take heart

And wait for the Lord.

Psalm 27:14

Damsel in Distress

I’ve relapsed (again).  I’m sick of relapsing.  There needs to be a different way of thinking about it.   Instead of relapsing into depression and self-injury, I would rather consider moments from these feelings to be times of elation and freedom.  Hey, it’s the fourth of July.  Time to think of freedom.

Sitting here listening to Coldplay’s “Fix You” probably doesn’t create the best ambience for freedom.  Recent therapy sessions have brought into question the emotional possibility of needing to feel at least somewhat helpless or damaged so that my husband can be the rescuer.  Thinking of all the fairy tales and great romances, the damsel in distress is rescued by her prince and they live happily ever after.  But the stories never show what happily ever after looks like.  Does the damsel keep getting into scrapes, eternally needing rescuing, and does this keep the thrill of the chase alive for her prince?  Or does he wake up one day, look at his bride, and say, “Dammit, can’t you fix ANYTHING without me?  What about my needs?  Keeping up with you is stressing me out!”

Ted Dekker’s Circle series of books talks about our relationship with our father as being the “Great Romance”:  being pursued to the ends of the earth by our Lover, accepting His love and relaxing in the unconditional love that is waiting for us.  There is only one rescue needed, then the relationship begins.

So here is my conundrum:  I don’t want to be rescued.  I am petulantly stubborn about planning for the future and possible times of needing help.  I’ve hit my wall of willingness, and my pride is getting in the way.  This damsel is sick of being in distress.  I need a new viewpoint.

So what is the new viewpoint?  I’ve already been rescued.  What about that?  The Lover of my soul has rescued me and there is no more rescuing needed.  Chris is not my rescuer.  He is my partner, given to me to share this journey, and when I am needy, he is there to bolster my courage, remind me of our Lover by his servant love for me.  And when I need more than what he can give, the community of believers is there for us to rely on.

The idea that I can be independent and care for myself is a mirage.  Being free is not being alone.  Fighting alone creates a prison.  I have been willing to share my experiences and have requested prayers from others.  Now, in the face of planning for future needs, knowing that the physical presence and sacrifice of others may play a part in my mental health is humbling.  I don’t want to need to be “babysat” or to be put on a “suicide watch.” 

“Together, we are his house, built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets.  And the cornerstone is Christ Jesus himself.  We are carefully joined together in him, becoming a holy temple for the Lord.”  Ephesians 2:20-21

If a part of a building was losing structural integrity, would we leave it alone, or would we use other pieces to brace it up until it could be fixed?  The Church is not a building; it is an intertwining of lives, a sharing of needs and joys.  So I need a little (or a lot) more bracing than others right now.  It seems like the bracing has gone on for so long, but from an eternal viewpoint, who knows what this time will mean for me?  Will I remain weak so that the strength of God will be greater shown through me?  Will this inner storm be a trial that will strengthen me and my faith, enabling me to be the brace for others who are weak?

“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.  God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort.  He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.  When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”

We are all the damsel in distress.  Our Prince has rescued us, but we have trials and disappointments as we wait for our Prince to take us to His Father’s kingdom.  Until He returns to take us there, he expects us to rely not only on him but on all parts of His bride.  Every need I have can be filled through Christ and the community of His lovers involved in the Great Romance.  And when I have been lifted up, I will be ready to comfort those in distress.