Pre-New Year's Eve

This is a phrase Agnes wrote on an index card then gave it to me as one of my affirmation cards. Agnes was one of the therapists at Alexian Brothers.  It's simple, direct and has a little bit of her in it.  It warms my heart.  It gives my self-esteem and confidence a boost of positive energy.

It's what I need as I begin to put down some goals for the New Year.  I've been meditating on the categories:  Spiritual, Mental and Physical.  I'm not including financial because the goals I have are already in place.

I've been reflecting on the sub-categories:  Reading, Bible study, writing my book, therapy goals, learning how to run and losing the 80 extra pounds I carry around.

I'm putting together some mental goals:  Read three books a month, Read the Bible in a year, write my book during the first three hours of my day, etc.

I visualize myself having great success with some scary hurdles that keep me stuck in negative patterns.  I want to break free of those patterns and replace them with positive ones.  I've done it in sobriety and cutting - I can do it with exercise and eating.

Some of the 2014 goals will need help and accountability from others.  I don't know which ones yet and I don't know who I'm going to ask.  Most of my friends are pretty busy.  I'm trusting God to lead this (and all of these) because He has put these desires on my heart.

I'm not sure I'll be blogging New Year's Eve.  I'll be spending a lot of time working on these goals. I hope to share what I landed on, perhaps on New Year's Day.

I encourage you to jot a few goals down.  Things that will bring you joy or reduce stress.  Even just a couple can increase good feelings that you have a purpose.  

Remember, God created you for a reason.  

It's time to let that reason out of the box!

Putting A Pet To Sleep

My cats mean a lot to me.  I have a relationship with each of them.  Like humans, the relationship is different from cat to cat because their personalities are not the same.

I invest a lot of time, money and love into these precious felines.  They invest a lot of trust.  They depend on me for safety and security.  They depend on plenty of food and water, clean cat boxes, lots of toys and veterinarian care when needed.  They have a right to their most basic needs being met.  And one of them is the most difficult.

Throughout my life I've always had at least one cat.  When I was a child my Mom would make the decision to put down one of our dogs or cats.  She didn't let us go with her - I'm very grateful.

I grieved the losses of my animals who were hit by a car or died a natural death.  We buried our animals in our back yard, including my goldfish.  It was normal to grieve and say good-bye.

As I grew up I became the Mom of my pets.  I rescued outdoor cats who eventually were hit by a car.  I learned it's very hard to change an outdoor cat to an indoor cat.  I grieved for them as I picked them up off the road near my house.

I had one cat who passed away peacefully on my bed.  I was with her until she breathed her last breath.  I held her and cried for a long time.  She was a rescue and lived to be eighteen and a half years old.

Thus far, I'd never had to take a cat to be put to sleep.  Not until six months ago.  Patches was losing a lot of weight and beginning to walk awkwardly.  She was still eating but I knew she was in pain.

The night before I took her in, I treated her to a taco supreme from Taco Bell.  She loved it!  I took some pictures and some video.  I set out the cat carrier.  All of the cats knew something was up.

The next morning I drove to the vet which was about thirty minutes away.  I was doing okay until I parked in the parking lot.  Then the tears flooded from my eyes.

I went in with Patches, signed the paperwork, sat with her then was led to a very comfortable room to wait for the Vet.  He and his assistant came in and explained what was going to happen.  The injection would work very quickly and she wouldn't feel anymore pain.

He waited until I was ready.  I held Patches on my lap and as she began to pass away, I put my lips on her little head and told her she was going to be okay now.

The assistant told me that she could tell Patches was ready to go because she didn't fight the injection.  It was apparent that she was in pain and I'd made the right decision.

As a Christian, I want to believe that everything God creates returns to Him.  However, since this is one of those topics that is not clearly defined in the Bible, I live by this truth:  I may not know where my animals go when they die but I know that God knows where they are and that's good enough for me.

Insecurity

I've been listening to Beth Moore's book on CD, "So Long, Insecurity:  You've Been A Bad Friend To Us."
It's been eye opening and refreshing to hear how many of us feel the same way.

I've been feeling insecure for awhile.  I'm not sure if it's from the depression or from getting ready to write the next portion of my book.  For some reason, insecurity has reared its ugly head.

It's showing itself in the form of substantiated past  fear.  People breaking into my house, being touched when I don't want to be touched and having to respond violently in order to keep myself safe.

This includes keeping a knife near my bed, a bat near my couch and mace on my key ring.  Other forms of security include making sure all doors and windows are locked, my car doors are locked when traveling and staying aware of my surroundings.

Most of these are healthy forms of protection.  Some, however, are not and are not safe for me.

• Keeping a knife near my bed is not safe because I self-injure, so I don't do it. 
• Keeping a bat near my couch is not safe because I might over react and break something.

My Mom told me to keep a can of wasp spray in or near my bed.  In case of an intruder, it has up to a twenty foot spray range and when the spray hits the intruder on the face or in the eyes, they have to go to the emergency room for treatment.  Then they are caught by police.  That sounds good.

Last night I was feeling emotionally scared.  I was laying on the couch trying to settle down by watching a movie.  When I was going through my coping skills I remembered one that really helped.

When I was in therapy a few years ago there were some sessions when I was an emotional mess. The therapist told me to lay down on the couch.  By that time I trusted her so I laid down.  She reached up over me, grabbed the blanket and covered me up.  I calmed down almost instantly.  

I don't remember anything else about the session.  I felt safe.  I felt warmth.  I felt nurtured.

My therapist took me to the safe warm place of my God.  He was able to nurture me and tenderly calm me because my therapist and I invited Him into our session.  God doesn't go where He isn't wanted.

That's the safe place I took myself to.  I brought all of my fears and insecurities to that place, to God, to that therapist, to that therapy room, to that couch and to that blanket.  I wanted to be there.  In fact, her last words to me were, "Amy, I'll always be your therapist."  And I know God reminds me that He'll always be my loving and safe Father.

God has given me unbelievable therapists.  Every one of them has been hand picked by Him.  I know this to be an unequivocal fact.  They are wise, safe, nurturing, real and seek God's direction.  They are humble in nature and have a good sense of humor when needed.

Insecurity perpetuates the fear my past abuse (especially the sexual abuse) and mental illness already dishes out.  I know I've overcome a lot.  There's still more work to be done.

Maybe 2014 will be the year when more insecurity can be released into the hands of heaven. 

Click Here for: Beth Moore So Long, Insecurity: You've Been A Bad Friend To Us

Overstimulated

I can't stand the thought of someone knocking on my door, wanting to enter my home.
This rarely happens so I don't know why I am so worked up about it happening.
I visualize myself with a wooden baseball bat, defending my turf.
In reality, I won't be fighting a person - just an imaginary confrontation.

I'm so tired from the constant barrage of going places to shop, being around people, having to be pleasant when at times I wanted to just barrel through lines and be done.  But that's not how God created me nor is that how He'd want me to treat His children.

Here I sit.  Tired, a little depressed and wanting to curl up to sleep.  It's 2:30 in the afternoon.  I feel overstimulated.  I canceled my doctor's appointment.  Can't take the interaction.

Maybe the best thing I can do is try to download my thoughts and relax.
I hope I can.

The Forgotten Gift

Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house,
Everyone was stirring, even the mouse.

The presents were opened, the Christmas wrap picked up,
Children could be heard laughing, even the pup!

Leftovers were spread on the table with care,
The family was nibbling - nibbling here, nibbling there.

But there in the corner sat one little present.
It did not have a tag, or a bow or a crescent.

It wasn't flashy, glittery or hung from the wall.
Why this present didn't seem very special at all.

Until one of the children curious to see,
Picked up the present and it started to sing.



The little child sat there with tears in her eyes,
"Why this is the greatest present that money can't buy!"

For God gave Jesus as a gift to us all,
To pay for all of our sins, the big and the small.

If you know Jesus and you've asked Him into your heart,
Then you'll be with Him forever, just like a pop tart (sorry).

If you don't know Jesus and in your heart He's not,
Why not invite Him in?  He'll find His special spot!

Grieving Losses of People

A strange but normal thing happened the other day.  Something I thought was finished.  I guess that's why I was so surprised.

I was shopping for Christmas when I spotted some gift boxes for gift cards.  There were two in a package.  I thought to myself, "Perfect, I'll get three packages."

I said to myself, "I'll have enough for six people since one of my nieces won't be getting a gift card."  I paid for my purchases and brought them home.  It wasn't until the next day that my bell got rung.

I was putting the gift cards into the boxes when I saw one left over.  I counted it out again. 

Seven nephews and nieces
One without a gift card
Six gift boxes needed

What was wrong?

And then I remembered.  It happened again.  I included my nephew Aaron in the mix. 

Aaron died from huffing when he was 18 years old in April of 2010.  This was the fourth Christmas his absence would be felt.  Sometimes it feels like the first.

My therapist said it's a form of denial that your subconscious goes into.  Like a way to cope with the grief.  I didn't understand it until I chewed on it for awhile.

Along with Aaron are the reminders of Cathy and my Dad who passed away in February of 2008.  I know I'm not supposed to dwell on the past but I think grief is different. 

Grief has it's own timetable.  It's okay to grieve those we loved and even those who were very difficult to love. 

Grief is grief no matter who it is or how long ago they died.

When Depression Sneaks In

For as long as I can remember, depression has never made a timely announcement that it's here.  It's never sent a letter telling me it's coming to town, never sent an e-mail telling me it's arrived and  never sent a text message that it's at my front door.

Depression has bad communication skills.

Depression is not mean, does not possess anger qualities and does not want revenge.  In fact, I picture depression as the complete opposite.

Like the blob on the Cymbalta commercials, depression looks like it has attachment issues.  It's not overly friendly yet it attaches itself to an individual in the form of a jacket or a robe.  It stays with a person and by doing so, brings the person down in spirit.

Depression is not concerned by which person it picks.  It's a level playing field and everyone is an eligible contender.

Depression often sneaks in - like the quarterback sneak play in football.  You don't see it coming until a few yards have been gained.  It might even be too late to tackle before the damage is done.

When depression sneaks in, I follow some simple steps:

1.  Acknowledge the depression so it doesn't take over my life
2.  Talk about it with my therapist
3.  Take my medications as prescribed
4.  Get plenty of rest
5.  Eat healthy and the best way I can
6.  Make sure I don't over do it
7.  Make sure I don't isolate for too long (maybe a day or two maximum)
8.  Read positive things
9.  Watch funny or positive movies
10.  Talk to my psychiatrist if it goes on for too long

It takes some practice learning about managing my depression.  The more I put those 10 coping skills into practice, the better I'll be able to take care of myself naturally.  So far, we're good.

This is depression day number six.

Pet Peeve

I have several pet peeves but one of them I'll share with you.

Swearing.

I know I've sworn on this blog from time to time but I certainly don't make a habit of it.  The same can be said when I am writing e-mail, tweeting, talking in therapy sessions or to family or friends.

I don't like swearing.  I especially don't like some of the very popular text acronyms for swearing.  Why?  Even though the person is not typing out the swear words, I am reading the acronyms using the swear words.

I don't think people realize how often these are being used.  They've become as commonplace as any other word.  The problem is this:  I don't know what the writer is trying to say.

If someone I was having a conversation with said, "W-T-F," I would have no clue what they meant.  Seriously.  Do you speak using letters or words?

If someone said, "L-M-A-O," I would see them doing this so they wouldn't have to say the letters to me.  Using the letters by themselves would be confusing.

When I swear I am usually so angry I can't think of any other word to communicate how deeply I feel the anger.  I don't swear when I'm happy nor do I swear just to swear.  It's always anger, rage or total frustration.

Swearing, in my opinion, tells me the person does not yet know the proper vocabulary for expressing emotions.  Sometimes it's up to us to seek out that vocabulary.  I've had to retrain my swearing.  I've had to think about what I'm really feeling and try to match it to an emotion instead of a swear word.

I'm by no means judging anyone or claiming to be perfect, believe me.  By having an emotions list, I'm better able to express myself so I can have resolution to my problems in a mature manner.  One that honors God.

There are many emotion lists on the internet.  I chose not to post one because they vary in type of content.  If you type "Emotion Words" in the search, you'll have plenty to look at.

Think about it.  What is swearing covering up for you?

Anger-Rage-Nurturing

The devastation of past abuse, no matter how severe, ever leaves my mind or my memories.  The emotions that surface over and over again are all too familiar.  Sometimes, however, one slips in unnoticed.  A new one with quite a punch.

This year that one is rage.  I've felt hurt, I've felt angry, I've felt sad, I've felt justified and I've felt revenge.  This is the first year I've felt a depth of anger that can only be defined as rage.

Rage is beyond anger.  It's beyond grief.  It's in a category unto itself.  It does not mix with minor emotions.  It's an emotion fueled by several others.

It elicits action that is not positive.  For me, it elicits violence.  Physical violence.  Such as:  punching someone across the mouth over and over again until they are knocked unconscious.  Beefing myself up so I can physically take them on and whip their butt to the point of blood and bruises.  Temporarily immobilizing them so they can't move.  In other words, taking my rage out on them.

But then God sends this:  Nurturing.
In my encounters with others, in my dreams with others and in my imagination with others.

I feel safe with my therapist and she uses a nurturing voice.  It reminds me that I can talk about whatever I need to and if something isn't going right in the session, I can speak up.  It also reminds me of another therapist who did this.

I feel safe with a Bible teacher I've never met.  God sent a dream where I was running for safety and I ran into her yard.  I was afraid to see her and yet I ran into her house, found what I think was her bedroom and hid against the bed.  I was groggy from sleep when I heard her walk in.  She didn't say anything.  Instead I felt her put a blanket over me and say, "Oh, Darlin."  I felt loved and the fear I was running from disappeared.

Right now I'm going to lay down under the covers and watch, "It's A Wonderful Life."  It's a movie that makes me feel warm inside.  I'm alone so I feel safe.  My kitties are sleeping so I know they are safe, too.

Anger - Rage - Nurturing

I don't remember ever being nurtured after the anger, rage or abuse.
I would have liked it.

Honest Rage

A little down.  A little angry.  A little depressed.

Normal feelings when experiencing the fallout of emotions from a childhood racked with physical, sexual and verbal abuse and pain.  No safe outlet, no safe place to hide.

In childhood there was one way to survive - get through it.  Eat, pull out my hair, wet the bed, latch onto safe adults, escape.

In adulthood there are more ways to survive - conquer it.  Drive recklessly, cut, drink alcohol, attempt suicide, overeat, isolate, images of hurting or killing perpetrators, release.

None of these are healthy.  All of them have consequences.

Just for today, I don't care.

I wish I had a gun and access to the perpetrators who made scars on my body and in my mind.

They'd all be dead.

No regrets.

None.

Self-Expectations

Dear God,

I'm noticing a lot of anger surfacing.  I'm wanting to punch people and knock them down.  Some people I want to kill with my punch.  Others I want to make an impression so they don't ever forget.

I know I'm not supposed to think this way because it's not how Jesus would think.

I'm very tired these days.  All my blood work came back normal.  I accomplished one goal which was to get my glucose down so I was not borderline diabetic anymore.  Cha-ching.  Done.  Proud of myself.

It's time to start writing again.  I keep putting this off.  Then I think if I were to die, I wouldn't have finished what you had me start.  I need to revisit those pages and pick up where I left off.  I still have some abuse memories to write down.  Not looking forward to it.

I feel like I'm disappointing people.  Not sure why.  I keep thinking I should be better than I am - capable of handling more.  There are days I hate myself because I can't handle any more than I am.  I feel like a failure.

And then I get angry.  And I want to lash out.  And I want to punch.  Very hard.

I guess that's it.

Amy

Being Flexible

It was all settled!  My nieces and I picked the day I was going to take them to do their Christmas shopping for their family.  I was giving each of them their own envelope of money.  We were all set to go.

During the prior weekend I called and talked it over with their Dad.  He had a terrific idea.  Since I was going to give each of the girls clipboards to write down what they wanted to get for each family member, he suggested they write down what they saw at each store before they purchased anything.  BRILLIANT! Then I would take them to lunch where they could collaborate what to go in on together, decide what they really wanted to purchase and once we were done with lunch we'd go back to those stores so they could make their final purchases.  Again, BRILLIANT!

I called one of my nieces during the week and told her about Dad's idea. She loved it!  She told me she's had too many times when she's bought someone a present only to find something she liked better at another store but couldn't get it because she'd already spent her money.  We firmed up the day/time I'd be picking up she and her sisters and we were set to go!  Everyone was very excited.

My sister (their Mom) posted a Facebook message the morning of the shopping.  I read it before I left the house.  I was surprised and a little worried about what she posted.  On the way to her house she called.  I was given the full explanation which helped but still didn't take away the worry.  I knew I was powerless over their future.  I needed to stay in the moment and enjoy my time with the girls.

When I walked into the house, the girls were ready but a little calm.  We spent a few minutes getting organized and then we were off!  It was a little quiet in the car so I decided to toss out what their Mom posted on FB and asked them how they felt about it.  After some questions and reassuring their safety in telling me the truth, I found out what was worrying them.  They told me in a few short sentences.  I reached the bank, went inside to get their cash and when I came out the mood changed. One of them had tears running down her cheeks.  I knew instinctively this was one of those moments.

As a very active aunt in the lives of these precious children, my heart's desire is to teach them how to honor and manage their feelings.  This was a very fresh wound that triggered fear of past realities their family has had to go through repeatedly.  I had a decision to make.

1.  I could tell them to push aside those feelings for the next few hours so we could have some fun shopping, going for lunch, etc. which would teach them what?  When you feel sad, stuff your feelings with spending and food and don't let those feelings ever surface.   OR

2  I could give them positive words of encouragement for sharing their feelings, letting them know their other aunt and I are just as worried as they are.  This will teach them that their feelings are important and they are not alone in how they feel.

Obviously, I did number two.  I added that their other aunt and I are going to be praying for the situation because we understand how scary it is.  This will teach them that they, too, can go to God with their fears and that they have aunts who believe God is going to help all of them.

After we talked, I asked them what they wanted to do.  Two of them wanted to go home and the youngest one wanted to shop.  I took the two older ones home and then took the youngest one out to shop.  It all worked out the way it was supposed to.  Their Mom got to hear from them why they didn't go shopping which was healthy, the youngest one and I got to spend some time alone.

I was so proud of myself for using mature coping skills and tools in what could have been a very emotionally driven mess.  I was able to pass on a healthy baton to my nieces and sister who worked through their emotions and fears.  I was able to witness my sister's surprise reaction to their fears.  When my youngest niece and I came back, the older girls were in a much better mood.  I told the girls not to worry about shopping - we can always go on a Sunday or after school.

In case you're wondering, their ages are 14, 12 and 9.

Staying in the moment and making decisions that were the best for the children is an act of love that is indescribable.  Sometimes it's necessary to push but most of the time, I find it's necessary to STOP (Sit, Talk, Open up, Pray).  Lord knows, God want us to do that with Him.

Obituaries - Truth or Tale?

I have found that obituaries follow a similar pattern.  I have yet to see any one that tells the truth about the person who passed away.  Like, "We're so glad he/she is gone.  They were a real pain in the tush."

I know every person was created by a loving God.  Since this is one of my past times, I look for little jewels that are tucked away in the usual descriptions of the person's life.  I've found some but can't remember all of them.  For example:  "She had an uproarious laugh."  "His laugh caused her to come downstairs to his apartment to meet him and they were later married."  "He loved his dogs."  There are so many more.

As you can imagine my head has been flooded with thoughts, behaviors and actions related to my dad's sin that I've taken upon myself as punishment.  I started thinking about what obituaries could sound like if we told the truth.  Here's what mine would say:

"Amy was born to parents who never should have gotten married.  Despite the challenges in her home Amy's mom introduced her to 12-step groups where she found ways to cope, survive and begin to thrive.  Unfortunately, as Amy grew into her late teens and twenties, these coping skills lacked everything she needed.  But then, something changed.  Amy found Jesus and accepted Him as her Savior in 1988 at age 21.  Because Amy is very intelligent and a survivor, she sought out ways to make herself better.  Through all of her difficulties, it was her relationship with Jesus Christ that held her together so she could find new and positive ways to help herself including therapy, support groups, hospitalizations and medication.  In time she was able to help others just like her.  Amy never gave up no matter how hard healing would become.  She believed in God, herself, her friends and her support team. Amy loved cats, solitude and writing but most of all, she loved her family!  We will miss her smile, her laugh and her hugs."

If I were to be honest and write my Dad's (he died Feb 21, 2008), it would read:

"Hank was a violent alcoholic to his first wife and three daughters.  He beat and sexually abused his eldest daughter, yelling and terrorizing his entire family.  There were many times he fought with his wife which woke up the children.  They were very afraid and climbed into the eldest daughter's bed.  There were times his wife would take the children away and upon returning home find the furniture broken and thrown about.  No one was safe.  One night he sat out on the front stoop with his rifle waiting for the guy who parked in front of his house to show up - he never did.  He punched his fist through walls, slammed his daughters heads together, shoved his eldest daughter's head into the wall and forced eye staring contests.  He was mean, used his body language for intimidation and used loud noises to instill fear and obedience.  His death will not be mourned."

What would yours say?  Or what would you want your abuser's to say?

Changing Core Beliefs

I was sitting at lunch with a friend yesterday.  We were talking about a friend of hers when the topic of believing lies came up.  We started talking about dream interpretation and I shared this with her:

This dream never happened but I used it as an example as if it had.

What if I had a dream that my nephew Aaron, who died at age 18 from huffing three years ago, told me that I should have told him about Jesus the month before he died instead of the week before he died.  He never would have been with his friend that day, he never would have huffed on propane that day, he never would have convulsed in seizures that day and he never would have died.

His message to me was:  It's all your fault.
Question to my friend:  Was it all my fault?
Answer:  No - it was his choice.

Bring it back to real life - to my childhood.

Was my dad's sexual and physical abuse toward me my fault?
Answer:  No - it was his choice and free will.
What lie do I still believe?
Answer:  I must have done something terribly wrong as a small child.

Other beliefs I carry around that impede my progress:
Because of the abuse, I am too broken to mend.
I am here to help others but my happiness won't be until I'm in Heaven.
My size protects me because I can intimidate offenders.

Beliefs that can help my recovery:
I don't want to carry the weight of my father's sin anymore on my body.
His pain is not my pain anymore.
Even though he has been dead for almost 6 years I am allowing him to continue hurting me.
Remember what I told him at his wake.

I need to feel physically strong so I can be confident that I can adequately protect myself.  I have a fear of being attacked.  It doesn't matter where it comes from - I'm honoring it.

I wish telling Aaron about Jesus a month earlier would have saved his life.  I'm sure his parents and brothers and sisters all have the same thoughts about what they could have done differently.  Truth is, Aaron was a young adult.  He was asked several times if he needed help, to ask us.  He never did.

None of us is ever at fault for someone else's choices.  Sometimes, like me, reprogramming our beliefs takes many years and lots of therapy to get to a place of letting that misplaced responsibility go.

Jesus died so we'd be set free.  "If you are truly my disciples and live as I tell you, then you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free."  John 8:31-32  

It just takes some time....and patience.

To Flush or Not To Flush

I'm a woman of simple pleasures.  Running water, electricity and a flushing toilet.  I'm a big fan of all three. Only one of them brings out the devil in me when it's not working properly.

The flushing toilet.

Feel my pain, if you will.  Using the toilet, the throne or whichever name you call it is an experience meant for only one person at a time.  It's private, quiet and can be a good time to just sit and think (unless you're a mom - sorry moms!).

When you are finished there is a lever you press down that takes all your internal stuff away.  It's like watching TV.  We all do it.  We stand over the throne, watch it spin around, watch it go down into the magic hole where it disappears and then we leave, knowing our little secret will remain a secret.

This is what I was thinking when my accomplishment (let's be honest - sometimes we are very proud of what we've made) vanished into the secret zone.  And yet....I wasn't sure if it had really made the "Road Less Traveled" - M. Scott Peck.

Yes, I should have walked away.  I should have let it be and not been overly curious.  But I couldn't help myself.  I had to give that lever one more push down just to be sure.

The word "regret" came to my mind as soon as the water began to rise very quickly.  It was as if the clog took on it's own revenge and was now boss.  The plunger was no match.  It kept folding up and every time it did water splashed on the floor.

Not a little splash of water but a wave of water.  I regained control of the plunger and gently coaxed the clog to push through.  WHOOSH!  It cleared itself out.

After cleaning the floor and reflecting on this little experience, I thought about how this is so similar to panic and anxiety.  Hear me out.

There's something I don't see that usually triggers my panic and/or anxiety.  It's lurking but I don't know it's there.  Even if I suspect it's there I don't have confirmation that it will be a problem.

When it surfaces, it creates other problems including a reaction to the initial trigger.  Now I've got a whirlwind of stuff swirling around me and I feel out of control.  What do I do?

I grab my plunger (phone a friend, do some writing, distract myself, go for a walk, etc.).  If it doesn't work the first time, I change it.  I keep changing it until I find something that works.

Eventually, I will be settled down.  I will no longer be breathing in short breaths.  I will no longer have sweaty hands.  I will be able to ask for help and receive what it is I need.

It's okay to flush the toilet.

The First Thanksgiving

I was looking for a complete history of Thanksgiving.  I stumbled across this one which is really good.  Please click on the link below or read the excerpt in it's entirety.

It never ceases to amaze me at how involved God is in our lives for a greater purpose.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

American History: The First Thanksgiving - Chuck Missler - Koinonia House

The early settlers of America, who braved the privations of those incredibly difficult years, were a fabulous lot, indeed. We can hardly imagine the burdens they endured to make a new life for themselves in a new land. Their turning point began one Friday in the middle of March,1621.

An Indian, wearing nothing but a leather loincloth, strode up their main street to the common house, and to their startled faces boomed in flawless English, "Welcome."

Samoset

His name was Samoset, a sagamore (or chief) of the Algonquins. He had been visiting the area for the previous eight months, having learned his English from various fishing captains who had put in to the Maine shore over the years.

He returned the following Thursday with another Indian who also spoke English, and who was to prove "a special instrument of God for their good, beyond their expectation." His story was to prove no less extraordinary than the saga of Joseph being sold into slavery to Egypt. His name was Tisquantum, also called Squanto.

Squanto

His story began in 1605 when Squanto and four other Indians were taken captive, sent to England,and taught English to provide intelligence background on the most favorable places to establish colonies. After nine years in England, Squanto was able to return to Plymouth on Capt. John Smith's voyage in 1614.

Lured and captured by a notorious Capt. Thomas Hunt, he, with 27 others, were taken to Mlaga, Spain, a major slave-trading port. Squanto, with a few others, were bought and rescued by local friars and introduced to the Christian faith. Thus, it appears that God was preparing him for the role he would ultimately play at Plymouth.

He was able to attach himself to an Englishman bound for London, then he joined the family of a wealthy merchant, and ultimately embarked for New England in 1619. He stepped ashore six months before the Pilgrims landed in 1620.¹

When he stepped ashore he received the most tragic blow of his life. Not a man, woman, or child of his own tribe was left alive! During the previous four years, a mysterious plague had broken out among them, killing every last one.² So complete was the devastation that the neighboring tribes had shunned the area ever since. The Pilgrims had settled in a cleared area that belonged to no one. Their nearest neighbors, the Wampanoags, were about 50 miles to the southwest.

Stripped of his identity and his reason for living, Squanto wandered aimlessly until he joined the Wampanoags, having nowhere else to go. But God had other plans
.

God's Provision

Massasoit, the sachem (or chief) of the Wapanoags, entered into a peace treaty of mutual aid with the Plymouth colony that was to last as a model for forty years. When Massasoit and his entourage left, Squanto stayed. He had found his reason for living: these English were helpless in the ways of the wilderness. Squanto taught them how to catch eels, stalk deer, plant pumpkins, refine maple syrup, discern both edible herbs and those good for medicine, etc.

Perhaps the most important thing he taught them was the Indian way to plant corn. They hoed six-foot squares in toward the center, putting down four or five kernels, and then fertilizing the corn with fish: three fish in each square, pointing to the center, spokelike. Guarding the field against the wolves (who would try to steal the fish), by summer they had 20 full acres of corn that would save every one of their lives.

Squanto also taught them to exploit the pelts of the beaver, which was in plentiful supply and in great demand throughout Europe. He even guided the trading to insure they got full prices for top-quality pelts. The corn was their physical deliverance; the beaver pelts would be their economic deliverance.

The First Thanksgiving

The Pilgrims were a grateful people-grateful to God, grateful to the Wamp-anoags, and grateful also to Squanto. Governor Bradford declared a day of public Thanksgiving, to be held in October.

Massasoit was invited and unexpectedly arrived a day early-with an additional ninety Indians! To feed such a crowd would cut deeply into their stores for the winter, but they had learned through all their travails that God could be trusted implicitly.

And it turned out that the Indians did not come empty handed: they brought five dressed deer and more than a dozen fat wild turkeys. They helped with the preparations, teaching the Pilgrim women how to make hoecakes and a tasty pudding out of cornmeal and maple syrup. In fact, they also showed them how to make one of their Indian favorites: white, fluffy popcorn! (Each time you go to a movie theatre, you should remember the source of this popular treat!)

The Pilgrims, in turn, provided many vegetables from their gardens: carrots, onions, turnips, parsnips, cucumbers, radishes, beets, and cabbages. Also, using some of their precious flour with some of the summer fruits which the Indians had dried, the Pilgrims introduced them to blueberry, apple, and cherry pie. Along with sweet wine made from wild grapes, it was, indeed, a joyous occasion for all concerned.

The Pilgrims and Indians happily competed in shooting contests, foot races, and wrestling. Things went so well (and Massasoit showed no inclination to leave) that this first Thanksgiving was extended for three days.

The moment that stood out the most in the Pilgrims' memories was William Brewster's prayer as they began the festival. They had so much for which to thank God: for providing all their needs-and His provision of Squanto, their teacher, guide, and friend that was to see them through those critical early winters.

A National Institution

By the end of the 19th century, Thanksgiving Day had become an institution throughout New England. It was officially proclaimed as a national holiday by President Abraham Lincoln in 1863. Traditionally celebrated on the last Thursday in November, it was changed by an act of Congress in 1941 to the fourth Thursday of that month.³

Originally observed to acknowledge the provision of God, let us also make this national holiday a very special time to thank Him for our own provision-our families, our sustenance, and, above all, our redemption in His Son!

Let's also pray that He might restore the religious freedom that those early Pilgrims cherished so dearly-and that the current enforced paganism that has invaded our land be curtailed. This country is now becoming what the Pilgrims had risked their very lives to flee from.

Self and Sickness

It's quite possible one of the reasons I'm out of sorts is that I don't feel well.  I stayed home all day, sleeping on and off.  I watched a few shows, ate some food and drank some liquids.

I don't mind not feeling well as long as I don't have a headache.  Yup, I've had a headache/migraine all day.  I took the meds but it was a temporary fix.  My head still hurts.

I want to be able to write but I cannot focus.
I want to be able to process yesterday's blog but I can't stay awake.
I want to be able to go outside but I can barely get up to get juice.

The "I wannas" are not winning.  Instead, I honor my body and my spirit by letting it rest.  Furthermore, I don't push it to do more than it can.

I used to.  I used to push it way past it's limit.  Then I'd get sicker and be out of commission longer.  It never helped.

I've learned through trial and error to take care of myself.  Even if it means saying, "No" to someone I love or something I enjoy doing.

Only I can make myself number one.  Taking good care of myself will in turn teach others how I take care of myself.  They will see the benefits.  Whether or not they agree with me isn't important.

This is the body God has given me.

It's my responsibility.

SASHET

I'm still wondering what's churning inside of me.  I don't want to be with anyone.  I want to isolate in my home, not answer the phone and curl up under the covers.

I don't feel depressed though I wonder with the cloudy gray skies if SAD has something to do with it.  I'm trying not to over think it.  Let's see if I can identify the feelings.

The method I'll be using was created by my therapist, Faith Gallup, LCSW.  She calls it SACHET.

Sad?  Yes, for sure.  I had a best friend for the better part of 10 years.  She's been in my dreams and in my thoughts. This is the same person I'm referencing below.  It's also the beginning of the holiday season.  With the feelings of my Dad being stirred up, it adds to the loss of him, Cathy, and Aaron.  Third, my friend Laurie who disappeared last year has disappeared again.  I have to do something about that.

Angry?  Yeah, a little bit here, too.  Even though my car is paid off I still have some obligations.  I want to be able to get the things I need and maybe one or two things I want.  Nothing extravagant, just simple fun.  Then I received a request to give money toward a missions trip from someone I've had no relationship with for at least 3-5 years.  I'm good enough to ask for money but not good enough to have a friendship?

Scared?  Yeah, a little bit.  Sometimes the cold weather scares me because I'm afraid of falling and hurting my back.  But that hasn't happened so it's not a credible fear.

Happy?  Not really.

Excited?  About Feed My Starving Children, yes.

Tender?  Yes, toward Pam as she's struggling with her Prescription D phone calls.  I was able to give her comfort and support.  I gave her a plan which we will do together next week.

It looks as if I have more feelings than I originally thought.  That was a good exercise.  I'm too tired to do the next step of developing a problem solving plan.

Maybe in a day or two.

Pulled Anxiety

I was going to be dog sitting for about three days.  I was having higher than normal anxiety.  It was concerning me because it was proving difficult to settle myself down.

I spent time trying to relax.  I told myself positive thoughts.  I knew I was going to a safe place because I'd been there before but still.  I felt high anxiety.

I spent a few moments pulling apart the feelings I was having instead of trying to cope with them as a bundle.  I found familiar feelings and then I found some surprising feelings.

I felt trapped - like I wouldn't be able to leave her house.
I felt lonely - like I wouldn't be able to see my kitties.
I felt scared - like I wouldn't be able to visit the safety of my home.
I felt vulnerable - like I wouldn't have the right food.

Once I was able to identify these feelings, I made a plan to take away these fears.

She gave me a house key and a garage door remote so there was no expectation of me staying there 24/7.
I told her I'd need to go home to check on my kitties and clean their kitty boxes.  This was met with great support.
I was able to not only go to my own home but also my sister's home to let out her dog.
I picked up some food from my house that would be simple and good tasting.

When I can push myself past the high level of anxiety and get to a place of basic thinking and functioning, I can make good choices that honor my commitment and benefit my self-care.

How about that????

Doing the Uncomfortable

I've been having a lot of anxiety since Sunday/Monday.  I can tell because my body does this shaking thing and my head contorts from side to side.  I've gotten use to it.  The problem is that I don't like it when it happens in public.

I saw my therapist today.  My head was doing it's thing and my body was shaking.  I don't think I was having anxiety about the session.  I think it was leftovers from a few days ago.  Anyway, we talked about the blog writings and the little book, "The Rules for 'Normal' Eating."  Faith had me read some of the irrational and rational thoughts.

Then she turned the dial and asked if I'd be willing to do an exercise.  I always get nervous when she wants to do one of those.  It had something to do with sonar, submarines, bats and a submarine Captain who was a little anxious and trigger happy.  Sure, why not.

I'm not sure what the goal was so I don't know if I succeeded.  All I know is it was very uncomfortable and totally against my grain.  I had to repeat a sentence multiple times emphasizing two words with some drama added.  Definitely not me.

The second exercise was to say, "So what?" after everything she said.  I couldn't do it.  I care too much about people to ever say those two words.  In fact, I was upset enough that I had to hide my face and distract her from me for a few minutes while I regained my composure.  I was on the verge of tears.

Like I said, this was some sort of exercise in anxiety.  I don't know if I learned anything.  After a little while of participating I did say I was going to stop.  I guess I learned I'm not comfortable trying to be someone I'm not.

Oh, at one point she zoomed toward me about six inches.  I jumped and said, "Whoa!"  She told me she wasn't going to hurt me or anything.  I should have asked her to back up but I decided to try trusting what she said because she's never lied to me nor has she ever hurt me.  She was true to her word.  Cool.

Maybe trying this little exercise is the source of my success.
Maybe it's not so complicated or deep.
Maybe it's as simple as showing up and doing the work I'm asked to do.

I can take a deep breathe and say to myself, "Well done, Amy."

My Wishes

I wish my life was a little bit easier.

Not for the sake of being spared discomfort or having an easy life.
Not for the sake of being able to brag about only having joy.
Not for the sake of never knowing a painful experience.

I wish my life was a bit easier so that I can get more good things done in the name of God and in the name of Jesus. 

I wish I had more energy so that I could serve as a volunteer in an organization I could get behind.

I wish I had monetary resources so that I could give to ministries who are helping the poorest of the poor.

I wish I had a brain that fired on all cylinders all the time so that I could contribute new ideas to companies who are finding ways to break barriers in some of the most remote regions in the world.

I wish I had a body that was completely pain free so that I could lift and carry and build homes with Habitat for Humanity.

I wish I had a healed psychological mind so that I could spread the good news about the ways Jesus heals our emotions so we can be set free to bring hope and healing to those around us.

I wish I had a house for myself and my kitties so that they could have a bigger area to play and I could have a bigger area to relax.

I wish my life was a little bit easier.

Meeting With God

"How long, O Lord, will I keep shouting before I quiet down to hear Your whisper?"
 - Amy Endler

Often when I'm running out of patience I zoom ahead in a fury, trying to accomplish what I think I ought to be accomplishing.  I haven't planned nor prepared myself for the "what ifs."  When a road block smacks right into my agenda and everything comes to a screeching halt, I'm frustrated at myself.

Then there are times when I plan and prepare so much that God has no room to make any adjustments.  I think I've covered all the possibilities.  Fear enters into the picture and I am paralyzed by it.  My head contorts and I know what's happening.  Once again I am trying to run my own life with my own agenda instead of God's.

Why is it so hard to submit my life to the God I absolutely adore and love beyond measure?  I'm trying to figure that out.

I suppose it could be some deep unresolved psychological issue.  Lord knows there are plenty of those lurking about.  It could be some sort of sin I'm engaged in and oblivious to.  It could also be a trust issue although I thought I'd already overcome that obstacle.

Listening for God takes discipline.  It's a new habit, really.  I've read that when establishing a new habit (good or bad) it takes 21 consecutive days.  So what kind of habit would lead to listening for God?

For me, it's the practice of solitude, silence and sincerity.

Solitude is being by myself, uninterrupted, for a specific amount of time each day.  Reading my bible, having a quiet time or doing something that slows down my rpm's.

Silence is turning off what's playing in my head and listening to the sounds around me.  The whirring of the refrigerator, the traffic driving by, a cat using the cat box.

Sincerity is talking to God and letting Him know I am here if He wants to tell me something.  Sometimes He speaks through my senses, sometimes through my blog.

My desire is to create an environment He'll want to meet me in and an environment I feel safe meeting Him in.  Our relationship is a two way street.

He always wants to talk with me but He'll never barge in on me.  That's not His style.  He waits for the invitation.

I think that's pretty cool.

Healing or Staying Sick?

In recent days the desire to continue where I left off in my book has been poking at the embers inside my soul.  I'm afraid when I think about the next subjects.  I know in my heart I've already lived through it.

What do you tell yourself when the flashbacks feel so real?  When the memories and body sensations tell you it really did happen?  How can anyone who "loves" you terrorize you in such a way that you live with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for so many years afterward?

My faith in God, in Jesus, tells me that all of these things happened for a reason I may never understand.  It was not to hurt me or frighten me or to cause me so much pain.  God doesn't do that.

I wasn't created to be someone else's punching bag or sexual gratifier or eye staring contest.

My faith in God, in Jesus tells me that all of these things happened because of man's free will.  It was my Dad's choice to hit me and to yell at me and to shove me into the wall by my neck.

It was my Dad's choice to beat me with a belt and to touch me sexually and to stare into my eyes with his bloodshot eyes about an inch from my eyes.

My faith in God, in Jesus tells me that all of these things can heal.  It's now my choice to let go of the hurts and the hitting, the fright and the yelling, the pain and the shoving.

It's my choice to no longer live like a punching bag or a beaten body, a sexual object or a sexual victim, a person afraid of eye contact or have angry eyes.

As hard as all of this is, I choose to heal.
As hard as all of this is, I choose to love myself forward.
As hard as all of this is, I choose to not live in secret anymore.
As hard as all of this is, I choose to trust this process - myself, my God, my therapist and whoever else God puts in my path.

Seasonal Affective Disorder

I was diagnosed with S.A.D. many years ago.  I found myself feeling very down and depressed when the winter months were here, especially in the morning and late afternoons.  Chicagoland is known for shorter daylight this time of year.

I was rising and setting with the sun.  I found myself wanting to go to sleep around 4:30 in the afternoon then not want to get up until 7:00 or so in the morning.  That's almost 15 hours of sleep.  That would have been okay if I felt rested when I woke up but I didn't.  I still felt tired.

After talking to my doctor about it, I purchased a light box.  It helped quite a bit.  Nowadays I'm on many psychiatric and psychotropic drugs so the S.A.D. isn't as bad.  I have the ability to lay down when I need to.  I'm thankful I don't have to work because I know I wouldn't be able to.

Here's a short video about S.A.D.  Some of the websites on the right have helpful information.

Reconnecting with Childhood Friends

Recently the little town where I went to school and the little village I grew up in created Facebook pages.  For the last few days I've been captivated by the memories of people I barely knew.  But there's one status that spoke to each of us.  One that moved some of us to tears.  It's the one that asked us to remember those who have died.

Needless to say, that status went viral.  For such a small little town it seemed each graduating class lost someone, if not multiple students.  My graduating class lost our first student freshman year.  I'll never forget it.  I still remember his parents having an open casket but I wouldn't go up there.  I remember one of his best friends fainting when he went up there.  I remember my friends and I sticking very close to one another.  I remember the funeral home.  I remember the church and the cemetery.  I know today where he is buried.  This is not something I want to remember.  It's etched in my brain.

While I was reading somewhere else on the page something strange happened.  Someone I didn't know asked me if I knew so and so.  My heart stopped and got sad.  Yes, I said.  He was my Dad.  This person said my Dad worked with his brother.  He said my Dad was a great man and he missed him.

At that point I could not respond.  It's not because I was moved to great sorrow or that I was reliving great memories of my Dad.  The truth is...

I was screaming inside, "My Dad was NOT a GREAT man.  If anything, he was great at being a self absorbed violent alcoholic who was a sexual predator in our family."  There's NOTHING great about any of that behavior.

As a child who was a victim of his abuse, I felt triggered and outraged.  As an adult who has worked very hard healing from the abuse, I feel better able to put how the child feels into perspective - to be compassionate.  As a Christian, I know my Dad has already been judged.  His sentence has been carried out.  His punishment is long over.

And that's how reconnecting with childhood friends can be risky.  At times, it can bring up some painful stuff but in the end, I can see how God put these people in my life.  They laughed with me, cried with me, studied with me and played with me.

I wouldn't trade them for any others!

Church - Friend or Foe

I've been a member of my church for twenty-six years.  I served in a leadership position for twenty years until I became mentally disabled.  Since that time I have struggled to get there.

I used to go on Sunday mornings.  When that became too hard I switched to Saturday nights.  When that became too hard I switched to watching it online.  It's been 5-6 weeks since I watched an online message.  I don't seem to be bothered by it.  That's what bothers me.

When I first started attending in September of 1987, I was seeking a bigger God than the God of 12 step groups.  When I learned about Jesus, His life, death, resurrection, appearing and ascension, I asked Him to forgive my sins and take them upon Himself in March of 1988.

My passion to serve Him and the church skyrocketed.  I was deeply involved in children's ministries, later became involved in singles, community care and other weekend serving/overseas serving teams.  There was nothing I wouldn't do to help others have a relationship with Him.

Enter mental illness.  Enter seizures.  Enter depression.  Enter panic attacks.  Enter anxiety attacks.  Enter deep seeded root extracting issues.  Enter intentional therapy.  Enter hospitalizations.  Enter self-harm.  Enter suicide attempts.  Enter eating disorder.  Enter alcoholism.  Enter isolation.

Everything stopped.  Friendships.  Work.  Salary.  My ability to cope.

Now what?

I still feel like many things have stopped.  I don't have enough money for gas to be able to go all the places I want to go.  I have to see Dr. Didenko and Faith.  The next place would be my women's AA meeting and then church.

Why not resume watching church online?  Because it's very hard to accept a season of life that is difficult.  And yet, I'm grateful to be alive, for my mental health team, my family and friends, not self injuring and staying sober.

Church - Friend or Foe?  Truth is, no matter how I'm feeling, my church will always be my friend.  Maybe not all those who attend the church or all the leaders who guide the church or all the staff who work at the church or all the volunteers who serve at the church but Jesus, who resides in the church, will always be my forever friend.

That's what's most important.

Top 10 Movies When I'm Down

All of us have our top movies we watch when we are in certain moods.  When I am feeling depressed or down or mentally ill or alone, I watch the below movies:

1.  A Beautiful Mind - Russell Crowe plays a Nobel Prize winning economist and mathematician who develops schizophrenia. Drama.

2.  What About Bob? - Bill Murray plays a psychiatric patient who follows his egocentric psychiatrist on vacation.  Comedy.

3.  Mama Mia - Meryl Streep is the mom of a daughter who is trying to find her real father told through the popular 70's singing group ABBA.  Musical.

4.  First Wives Club - Bette Midler, Diane Keaten and Goldie Hawn pull off a comedy that is surely a classic of scorned wives getting sweet revenge against their cheating husbands.  I've never been married but let me tell you, this movie gives courage to anyone who has been taken advantage of!  Comedy.

5  My Fellow Americans - Jack Lemmon and James Garner play two ex-presidents who are accused of a crime and forced to collaborate on a plan to save the integrity of the White House.  Comedy.

6.  Rambo (any in the series) - Sylvester Stallone as John Rambo who fought for his country in Vietnam only to come home to a silent war against he and his brothers in arms.  The entire series is about him coming full circle in who he is as a soldier.  Action.

7.  Star Wars (any in the series) - The dark force is gaining strength but The Force is gaining momentum.  Drama.

8.  Dead Poets Society - Robin Williams is a teacher who opens the minds of young men so they can see and imagine great things about themselves and their futures.  Drama.

9.  Remember the Titans - Denzel Washington plays in the true story of a new African American football coach in a school that has just integrated races. Drama

10.  K-19:  The Widowmaker - Harrison Ford plays a Soviet Nuclear Submarine Captain during a time when this submarine malfunctions on her maiden voyage.  The crew must figure out how to save her.  Drama

Remember, there are a lot of good movies out there but not all of them belong in your library.  I do not have any movies that are triggers.  I do not have many R rated movies.

I bought a used VCR and have almost 100 VHS movies.  Goodwill in the Chicagoland area sells all VHS tapes for forty-nine cents each.  They are incredibly cheap and never skip.  I hope you are adding to your library because there will be days when you won't be able to concentrate enough to read or feel well enough to socialize.

Make a plan.
Set your plan in motion.
Be prepared so your struggles will be lessened.

Hoarders

Today I watched several episodes of Hoarders.  I am amazed.  Not at the filth or the bugs or the stench.  I'm amazed at how empty people's hearts are and how they long to be connected to someone.

Many of these people have barricaded themselves in their home.  They've made their home so disgusting that no one would want to visit.  Or they don't want to invite people for a visit.  Either way, it's a very lonely and sad situation.

I tweeted this today:  "I was reminded today that when we try to substitute "things" for "God's love," we'll never have enough things."  Quite true.

In all honesty, aren't each of us hoarding something?  It could be self-harm, eating disorders, addictions, too many pets, too many clothes, too many shoes, too many collections of things, etc..  I know I have at least three or four in the above list alone.

If I were to be completely honest, I would say my hoarding keeps me safe.  It keeps people at arms length so they don't get too close.  It keeps me safe inside my house where no one can find me or get to me.  It puts me in complete control especially when I feel most out of control.

It was supposed to help me.  But now...I'm not so sure.

Another topic for the therapist.

This episode is amazing:

Check Out Hoarders: Doug & Ruth on Hulu.

24

I'm very tired.  So much so that I keep dozing off as I struggle to put together my thoughts.  I hope this makes some sort of sense when it's finished.

I was watching the drama series 24.  Jack Bauer has a very complicated life between the counter terrorism unit and his family.  He struggles to please everyone.

Since the show is based on one twenty-four hour period at a time, we only get to see one hour of the day each week.  It's amazing to me how many events take place that effect a single or small group of people.  Compared to our lives today, it's quite accurate.

What I choose to do, who I choose to interact with, where I choose to go and the route I choose to get there involve many more people than just me.  I remember the early days of recovery when I thought everyone and everything revolved around me.  No way!  I believe we revolve around each other.

There are some days, like today, when I don't leave the house.  Even then I'm effecting people.  I'm either answering or not answering the phone or email or twitter or checking facebook.  I'm either plugged in or not plugged in.  If I go outside to put away the garbage can I can say hi to someone or not.  Today, I yelled at the person leaving a message on my answering machine while I pressed my hands to my ears.  I'm sure I looked odd but I felt violated.  And it was a real person - not a computer I could hang up on.

One hour at a time each week.  Wouldn't it be nice to manage that little sliver each week?

I think it would be.

Making Amends

A couple of weeks ago I responded to someones verbal abuse by calling them a swear word and not apologizing for my behavior before I went home.  I was filled with anger, hurt and fear.  I was bothered by my behavior. Why did I stoop so low?  It was time for me to figure that out.

I'd had a couple run ins with other men that day.  The other men were angry, pushy and rude.  I was able to respond to them respectfully and firmly.  I suppose I used up my kindness on them and had none left when this incident reared it's ugly head.

The other factor is that I've been a witness to this person verbally abusing people I love.  At home and in public.  It takes all I have not to pummel them.  I've wanted to say something for a long time but I've been asked not to.  When it directly happened to me I was shocked and responded like it was my Dad.  I wasn't going to take the verbal abuse anymore.

I spent two weeks working it out.  I knew the Bible told me to go directly to the person, to not gossip about it and to speak directly in love.  I know AA says to make direct amends to such people whenever possible except when to do so would injure them or others.  I knew I would see this person this weekend and I wanted to feel reconciled.  I love this person.  They are an important relationship in my life.

I talked about it with Faith.  Broke down the play by play of what happened then dialogued a strategy.  I felt prepared for the talk.

I got to the house and initiated a conversation.  It took place later that evening.  Here's some of what was said:

1.  I started by initiating by saying this, "Do you have 5 minutes where I can make amends for my behavior"
2.  I said, "I want you to know I would never purposely do anything to upset you or make you angry."
3.  I said, "I'm sorry I used that word toward you.  That was immature and very wrong."
4.  I said, "You are a very important relationship to me."
5.  I said, "When you use that tone of voice, I hear my Dad - and I'm just going to call it like it is - who verbally abused me and I get defensive."
6.  I said, "How about in the future, instead of me reacting to what you say, I stop and give you the benefit of the doubt by listening to what you are trying to say instead of how you are saying it."

1.  He said, "Yes, let's talk when I get home tonight."
2.  He nodded as if to say, "Okay," you didn't purposely hurt me.
3.  He nodded as if to say, "Okay," I accept your apology.
4.  He said he was sorry.   He thought he'd said he was sorry in the heat of the argument but realized he wasn't really sorry - it was just to ease the anger.
5.  He said he knows he has a big problem with how he says things.  He's working on it with his sponsor.
6.  He agreed with my future plan.

We both had stuff happen that day that set us up for a conflict.  They weren't with each other.  My part is dealing with anger and conflict before going to another person's house so I don't bring it into any other situation.  The other thing is to learn how to control my tongue.  It's the deadliest weapon I have.

The last thing I told him was how much I loved him.  He's my brother and I never want any conflict to come between us because it very uncomfortable.

Here's a video that talks about conflict resolution:

His Strength Is Perfect

Today has been a physically challenging day.  I've been very active, pushing my body and stretching it to do more than it wants.  I'm very tired yet feel a sense of satisfaction.

This is a short writing.  I'm on my way to my sister's to do some baking with my nieces.  We'll socialize tonight then bake tomorrow.  They are very excited!  I'm very tired so I have to push myself to be "up."

Here's a song that always lifts my spirit.
I hope it lifts yours, too.

Comfort

It felt to good to be with Faith today.  I wasn't nervous like I've been before.  I didn't think about the session at all before getting there.  I just let it become whatever it was supposed to be.

We celebrated the weight loss.  I told her I hadn't read that book because I was already reading a book about loss.  I'm making the connection between using food as a comfort and the loss I've experienced in my life.  Loss of innocence from the sexual and physical abuse, loss of close relationship with my sisters, loss of protective relationship with my Mom, loss of approval from my Dad, loss of some comforts like alcohol because I'm over four years sober, loss of comfort through cutting because I'm just over one year clean from it, loss of suicide attempts to relieve the pain for a year, loss through death of Karen, Cathy, Dad, Maryla and Aaron, loss of mental acuity due to mental illness, loss of job, loss of financial security, loss of physical stability and loss of friendships in Kelly, Gina, Bonnie, Annie and Sue.

My choice of comfort is food.  Mostly carbs including pasta, candy, chips and cookies.  I tell myself I am killing the feelings.  That's not emotionally true but it feels true.  It's a way to deceive myself into thinking I am maintaining control when in fact I am out of control.  I am lying to myself so that I don't have to deal with what's staring me in the face.  It's my way of burying the uncomfortable emotions instead of sitting in them like Dr. Erin told us to do.  It's minimizing the pain when the pain is greater than I can bear.

Comfort:  Coming Out May Feel Overwhelming, Really Try

I have to talk about the uncomfortableness.  It's the only way I'll get better.  I trust my therapist.  There's no reason not to talk to her.  She is safe, warm, caring and wise.  She is careful, open, observant and gives great feedback.  She is available, willing, has good ideas and prays.

We're going to start this workbook, "Food and Feelings Workbook," by Karen Koenig

Click Here to Find this Workbook on Amazon

I hope your Halloween is a great one!

Click Here to Watch the Monster Mash

Depression Is Like A Car

Depression is like a car.  It has a motor that needs to be properly maintained.  The exterior shell protects you from damaging elements.  The windows let you look out when you feel trapped or let others look in so they can help you.  There's only one driver.  There's only one ignition.

When depression stays longer than usual, for too many reasons to mention, I picture myself in my Depression-Mobile.  It's a special car of my mind that navigates through the tough days. 

Most of the time it drives way below the speed limit.  The fuel tank is on empty.  The driver is impaired.  Sort of dangerous, right?  I spend those days on the couch.

I tend to the motor.  Check the oil.  Check the windshield washer.  Check the antifreeze.  It's like checking the pill box to make sure I've taken my meds.

Those who can look in and help are my family, five friends, therapist and psychiatrist.

When I look out I'm looking for God in creation.  Fall leaves, birds chirping, squirrels running and clouds moving.

My radio is tuned to Heaven.  The tires have treads that grip.  There are some nicks and dents to the body of the car but nothing serious.  The bumper stickers are filled with personal statements, like this one I made in memory of my nephew Aaron:

 

Whatever car or type of depression you have, it's unique to you.  When your car (brain) isn't running right, get help immediately.  Putting off help can lead you down the road of hopelessness that can lead to destructive thoughts. 

 

You're worth more!  Take your brain to your mechanic - your psychiatrist.

 

If you're frustrated because medication don't seem to be working, keep reporting that to your psychiatrist.  Sometimes it takes awhile to find something that works.  Don't give up!

Communing with God

In my relationship with God, this day (Sunday) is a day of rest and communing with Him.  I'm still feeling down, over tired and depressed.  The "rest" part of today will be easy.  "Communing" will be more difficult.

I usually spend time with God outdoors.  I have a favorite forest preserve complete with very large trees, a walking path, a marina and plenty of chipmunks.  It's a short drive from my house.  But right now I don't have enough gas in my car and my checking account is at zero.

How am I going to commune with God?  I'm not sure.  I have a bible study that reads to me.  I have a couple of blogs I can write in.  I can ask my sister for a little bit of gas money so I can go to her house and relax there.

Maybe I'll just sit here and think about Him and all the wonderful things He's done for me.  Maybe I can write a thankful list of 25 things.  I could listen to the sermons I'm behind on.

Whatever I decide to do, it will please God.  Even writing about it pleases Him.  Spending time thinking good thoughts about Him is sometimes the best and only way I can tell Him how much I love Him.

And that's okay.

Coping

Dear God,

I am so tired and feel very drained.  The colder weather is making it difficult to want to go outside.  I know it's only going to drop further as we enter into a Chicagoland winter.  Oh, the joy.

I don't know what to do to feel better.  I've been taking the medication as prescribed.  Trying to get enough sleep.  Eating right.  I haven't been able to see Faith since the first week of October.  I'm sure that's put a damper on my spirit.

I'm a little dizzy, too.  Standing up is a little difficult because my legs tense up.  I feel wobbly.  Definitely going to mention this to Dr. Didenko on Monday.

I just want to sleep and stay warm.  I'm wearing multiple layers.  I turned the heat up to 67.  I'm going to make some homemade chili.  That should help me feel like I'm doing something.

I dreamt a friend's house was on fire.  It burnt the front of the home, the basement, the outside wooden grill pit and the sitting area.  What was neat was my kitties were living in the basement and survived!  There were five of them huddled together.  The other six came out one by one.  I was so glad it was a dream.

Anyway, I just wanted to talk.  Thanks for always listening and providing for my every need.

Your faithful daughter,
Amy Kathleen

New Medication

Ugh.  I hate adjusting to new medications.  They can cause side effects that are long and painful. This one is causing a migraine 1-2 times a day.  I already suffer from migraines.  I guess it's good that I know how to treat them.

It's a medication that works well with my antidepressant.  It's also good for inducing rem sleep.  I sleep about 11-12 hours.  I'm also sleepy most of the day.  I hope this goes away in a couple of weeks.  I'm depressed and tired.

I doubt this writing will be beneficial to anyone but me.  Then again, that's probably how it's supposed to be.
Gonna rest today - again.  Want to cry but don't have the energy.

Found something cute to share:

Limits

Met with psych.  

Adjustments to add a med. 

Feel like crap today.

Just want to sleep.

The weather is perfect.

Cold air.

Gray skies.

Purring kitties.

A little house work.

Lit a fragrant candle.

This is all I have to give today.

Take Care of Myself

Dear God,

I don't feel well.  I've been sluggish and now a migraine.  This cold weather is dreary and a little depressing.  My new kitty is doing great.  She's so sweet and cuddly.

I'm anxious to meet with Dr. Didenko.  I don't know what he's going to say.  I will listen to his opinion then assert my own.  Not to be mean but to participate in my mental health recovery.

I really just wanted to say thank you.  I'm receiving gifts from you each and every day.  I'm amazed at how often you think of me and provide perfectly for my needs.

Love Amy

Possible Hospitalization

I have a feeling when I see my psychiatrist in a couple of days he's going to recommend I be hospitalized.  Not because my eating disorder is out of control.  Not because I've self-injured.  Not because I am having suicidal thoughts.  I haven't done or had any of those.  It's because my medication is not doing it's job and the side effects are a little rough.

Sometimes I sit back, close my eyes and picture myself at Alexian Brothers in the general psych unit.  I enter into the feelings of safety, security and another chance to learn more about my mental illness.  I can always use more tools in my toolbox.

Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder, hearing voices, Major Depressive Disorder, Panic, Anxiety, PTSD, eating disorder and some agoraphobia.  I'm a mess.

Here's a great song by Rebecca St. James.

Reading the Bible

As a fully devoted follower of Jesus Christ, reading the Bible is just as important as eating food.  I need to be reminded of who I am in Christ, under the authority of a loving Father, who gave me a private counselor all to myself in the Holy Spirit.  Spiritual food for my soul.

I've read through the Bible I think once in it's entirety.  I've read the first five books of the Old Testament hundreds of times.  Can you relate to this?  I'd get fired up, ready to read and forgot where I'd left off because it could be months before I cracked the Bible open for personal Bible study.  So, I'd always start in Genesis.

I've read the New Testament at lease a few times all the way through.  As above, I've read the gospels (the first four books) hundreds of times and probably the friendly books of Ephesians, Phillipians, 1 Peter and both Corinthians.  I'm selective and choose what's most familiar.

I posted this on Twitter yesterday:  "Leaves go through changes as they mature.  What changes do you make to ensure you're maturing?"  Good question, right?  Since my Twitter is linked to my Facebook page, I shared my answer to that question.  One of the ways I ensure I'm maturing is I found a user friendly website that has a variety of Bible reading plans.  It can be found at:  CLICK TO GO TO WWW.BIBLE.COM

This website has all different kinds of translations.  What I like is some of the translations will read the chapters to you.  This is especially helpful to those of us with mental illness or any other reading challenge.  It's soothing, not pressurized and you pick any plan and set your own pace.

Reading the Bible.  I don't have a better weapon against the arrows of the devil and his schemes.  God's word penetrates the heart, binds up all wounds, protects me from things I know nothing about but most of all, it's God's love letter to me.

But hey, don't take my word for it!  Experience it yourself.

You may recall the date May 21, 2008 when Steven Curtis Chapman and his family suffered the tragic loss of their five year old adopted daughter.  One of his sons was backing out of the driveway when Maria ran behind the vehicle and was struck.  See if you can pick up another reason why reading the Bible is so important.