A Friend and a Meal

I'm meeting a dear friend for dinner.
She started a new job at the beginning of the year.
We haven't had a deep conversation in a few weeks.
I find I'm a little anxious.

The anxiety comes from socializing.
My fear is the mental illness will show up.
Another fear is I'll say something off the wall.
I don't recall it happening for awhile.



I always have to remind myself that she loves me.
She's seen a lot and has chosen to stay.
Her friendship feels warm and safe.
It's okay if something weird happens.

Most of the time I try to think about what to talk about.
This time I have quite a bit.
I need her counsel.
She's easy to ask for advice.

I do a lot of listening.
It's amazing how comfortable she feels talking to me.
I don't give myself enough credit.
I'm her friend.

I'm trying to relax.
She'll be here to pick me up.
I'm using some coping tools.
I'm going to be just fine.

Thank you, God, for my dear friend.

Conflict with Therapist

I've been in therapy for thirty-two years.  Not every week. Not with the same person.

There comes a time, in every relationship, when someone says something hurtful or behaves in a way that hurts us.  It happens in friendships, with family, co-workers, church relationships and certainly in therapy relationships.

The first time it happened was with my first therapist and I was very surprised.  I don't remember the context.  I remember the feelings.  I felt defensive.  I felt angry.  I felt labeled.

My way of coping with those emotions was to get up and walk out of the session.  I walked out of the office building directly to my car.  Once I was in my car I started crying.  I was crying because I did not feel listened to, affirmed for the work I was doing and labeled wrong.  After all, if my therapist didn't get me, who would?

Those same kinds of issues and feelings repeated themselves with my second and third therapists. Fortunately, it happened at the tail end of my time with the second therapist and near the beginning of the third therapist.

I felt the safest with the third therapist.  We'd already established a healthy relating pattern because I was in the outpatient day program.  Even though I was incredibly scared to tell her she had hurt me, I took the risk because I knew she would be able to receive it and take ownership of it.  That's exactly what she did.

That conversation paved the way for my therapy sessions to go deeper into some unexplored territory that would be crucial to my healing.  I trusted her with more of the abuse, details I hadn't shared with anyone.  She proved to be completely trustworthy every step of the way.

The therapist I have today is trustworthy and the safety is growing.  However, yesterday I plunged into a crater.  From the get go I was having cognitive difficulties finding two words to form a sentence.  Not far into the session I said I was having trouble with my eating.  I was told, "We'll get to that but I want to talk about this first."  I was a little upset but decided to see where she was going.

It turns out she wanted to work on some fears I was having, what they were based on and how facts could alleviate them.  At first I was able to keep up but then I hit a mental wall.  It ended up being frustrating because my brain wasn't working right.  I didn't say anything to her which was a mistake.  I don't know why I didn't say something.  Instead, I watched the clock and played with my water cup.

She continued talking and I stopped listening.  She tried to reengage me.  I answered her questions but really, I was done.  I didn't feel angry or frustrated or really anything.  I wast numb.  In answering one of her questions I let her know I was done with this session.  She asked if we were okay and I said, "Sure."  She wasn't convinced.

Sometimes when I'm feeling "gone," there can be a conflict but I don't have much emotion.  I've learned to distract myself and sort it out privately.  Are we okay?  Yes, I don't lie, especially about that.

I put some healthy behaviors into place:

1. Before I left, I scheduled my sessions for all of next month.  I don't plan on quitting just because there's a little conflict.  I used to do that with other therapists.  I've learned I have to figure it out so we can talk about it.  My therapist is a godly woman who seeks the Holy Spirit's guidance with all her heart.  She is not the type of person who purposely hurts people. She wants to know what happened so we can learn from it.  Because I know this about her, I have to tell her the truth no matter what feelings get triggered inside of me.
2. I decided to write her a letter telling her how the session was from my chair.  I'll bring that to my next session so we can talk about it.  It's the right thing to do.
3. I continue to ask God to give me insight into what was going on with me.  
4. I ask God to give me courage to talk about feelings that are uncomfortable.

As I behave more like a responsible adult and less like a wounded child, not only will my self-confidence increase but my self-care behaviors will increase as well.

I want my relationship with my therapist, all my relationships, to live in a state of reconciliation. There's no reason why they can't.  As long as I commit to keeping my side of the street clean and stay willing to let others tell me the truth about how I've hurt them, all will be good.

When Fear Overtakes Action

Ann Voskamp:  "Hey You? You don’t have to say anything. Explain anything, excuse anything. I just wanted you to know we cheer you on, that we see the way you hurt & the way you keep on going." 

My heart has a deep longing to hear those words.  I live with a lot of fear.  Some of the fears I have stem from past experiences.

Here are some of them:

1. Someone busting through my door
2. Being in a serious car accident
3. Dying in a car accident
4. Attacked in the dark
5. Raped
6. Trapped with no way out
7. Beating someone up and losing control
8. Shooting someone
9. Living like a hermit
10. Disssociating from healthy relationships

Each of these fears have a memory attached to them:

1. My Dad stomping toward my bedroom and flinging my door open so hard it crashed into my metal closet doors and knocked the light off the wall then broke the light bulb.  I was 12.
2. In August of 1992 I was on my way to work when I had to stop suddenly.  The truck behind me didn't see we were slowing down.  I tried to avoid him by pulling off to the side but he hit me at 45-50 mph.  My hatchback windshield shattered.  I cruised on the wet grass about 100 feet and hit a tree.  Double hits.  I've had two back surgeries.
3. In high school we had several students die in car accidents.  It seems we went to at least two funerals a year.  Then my friend Karen died at the hands of a drunk driver and my friend Cathy died from black ice and Valium.
4. The sexual abuse started when I was four years old until I was thirteen.  Most of it occurred at night.  
5. Some of the abuse was rape.
6. Again, some of being trapped was abuse, some mental illness hospitalizations and social anxiety.
7. My dad lost control more than a few times when he beat me.  I want to beat someone when they threaten me or challenge my ability to defend myself.
8. I've had homicidal thoughts though not for a little over a year.
9. I like being by myself a little too much.  I get really angry when my phone rings.
10. I tend to pull back from relationships because I know they won't last.

A lot of these fears can be corrected by dispelling them with other forms of truth.  I can ask myself when was the last time this happened and use that answer to retrain how I view that fear.  

I can draw the fear onto a piece of paper and look for colors and symbols that represent contributing factors.

I can do word association and list out words that describe the fear.  Then list words that can help turn the fear into something less scary.

There's probably other things I can do but for now, that's all I can think of.

Trains

There's nothing like riding a train.

I can drive twenty minutes to a neighboring city, park in a less congested parking lot, put four quarters into my parking box slot then walk up to the platform and wait.

Sometimes I get a cup of coffee and a newspaper. Other times I just plan on staring out the window as we make our way to downtown Chicago.  Either way, I'm going to enjoy the ride.

One of the things to do on my bucket list for 2014 is to ride the train for no reason.  Just show up at any station, any time of the day and spend a little money on myself for a little adventure.

Nothing dangerous, mind you.  Spontaneous.  That's when some of my best "God" encounters happen.

I've had encounters in the mountains of Colorado and near a river at a forest preserve.  On walking paths in Wisconsin and on my knees beside my bed.  In rice fields in Japan and in a hotel room in the Dominican Republic.  On the forest roads in Arizona and at the Hot Air Balloon Festival in New Mexico.

God shows up wherever we invite Him in.  He is not deterred by our physical location as much as He is by our spiritual willingness to let Him in.

He will knock; He will not bust down the door.
He will show you who He is; He will not tease you by withholding His identity.
He will give you what you ask;  He will not give what hurts you.

I think Jesus would have liked train rides.

The rumbling of a train, stopping to pick up riders who are traveling in the same direction.

Jesus would've told us about our final destination and invited us to join Him.

Social Anxiety

Last week I received an email from an old boss. He's someone I immensely respect.  He's a very godly man who lives his life (as close as he can) according to the bible.

It's been about eleven years since I've worked for him.  I was the one who ran his call center.  I did a bulk of the internal staffing, training and database development.  He taught me how to do the reporting and client relations.  We were a good team.

We worked together for several years.  Until my migraines caused me to stop working.  I was deeply saddened.  This was the best job, the best boss, the best co-workers and the best use of my skills and gifts I'd ever had.

Fast forward to last week.

Phil sent an email asking if we could meet so he could pick my brain about some call center concerns he was having at a new job.  He was now VP of Sales and Marketing of a Christian company we'd done some work for way back when.  I said, "Sure," and put up some boundaries so I'd feel safe.

I asked him to send some preliminary info so I could have a leg up before we met.  He sent it on Friday.  Over the weekend my head began to think about the three concerns.  I was forming a response but wasn't obsessing about it.

Last night I started to feel very anxious and stressed out.  I knew it was because of the meeting and feeling like I was back at work.  I had to look at what I was able to do and what I wasn't able to do.  I was afraid I wouldn't be able to say no if he wanted me to be a consultant.

It was then that I decided a few things:
1.  It's okay to cancel the face to face meeting.  I don't work for him.  I won't be in trouble.
2.  I can write out my ideas in an email and send it.
3.  I'm the only one who can take care of myself.  Saying "no" may not feel great at the time but it really is the best decision for my mental health.

And that's exactly what I did.  He appreciated my feedback, liked how I was direct like I've always been and was disappointed we couldn't meet.

That's okay.
I'm not responsible for another person's feelings about what I do for my self-care.
I honored Phil and I honored God by giving my best to what was placed in front of me.

You know what?
That's all God wants us to do.
To do the best we can with what He's given us.

Psalm 147:3

Sometimes I think my heart is never going to completely heal from all it has suffered.  The physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, verbal abuse, neglect, abandonment, withdrawal from people, adults I trusted abruptly walking out of my life and the list goes on.

I know in my intellect that when I gave my heart to Christ I gave him permission to heal it, change it and reside in it.  I guess I was hoping there would be ultimate healing.

In many ways, God and Jesus have healed a lot of the brokenness.  I'm no longer being abused, I have control over who I let into my life and for how long, I'm learning how to keep myself safe and I have just a smidge of self-blame remaining for what happened to me at the hands of an addict.

My wounds are being bound up in all sorts of ways.
I picture gauze bandages being wrapped around my head as my mind heals.
Maybe there's a big flat frozen pack resting on my chest to heal the burns of lies.
God placed a metal cage around my private areas so no one can get in.
I wear a flannel shirt that smells like my Dad and I'm okay with that.
I wear jeans and gym shoes.

I look normal on the outside.

That's how it always was.

The brokenness was covered up, never talked about, hidden beneath clothing.
The brokenness happened at night, in the anger, in the storm of alcoholism.
The brokenness became my cross to carry.
To protect my sisters and my Mom.
Sometimes I would get in between Mom and Dad.
Sometimes I would pick a fight with Dad just to get it over with.
In either case, I protected my family.

How old was I?  10-14
I knew I could take it.
He didn't scare me anymore.

I'd grown cold to his threats,  his eye to eye staring, him shoving me against the wall by my neck.
I had ice in my veins and knew one day I would punch him so hard he'd be knocked out cold on the floor.  I had thoughts of killing him.  Even though he's been dead for six years, when I think about stuff like this, I still want to kill him.

God's had a lot of wounds to bind up.
I'm glad He hasn't stopped yet.
I have a feeling I won't be completely healed
until I'm in heaven.

Today, I'm okay with that.

Letting God Decide

You know when you have the same clump of thoughts running through your head?  They're not obsessive or destructive but they resurface when a certain topic pops into your mind?  I've been having those kinds of thoughts about my book.

Specifically about the content.
More specifically about the depth of content.

So I stopped writing.

Not the best decision when you and the Holy Spirit have an encounter in the north woods of Wisconsin, on a serene and beautiful walking path, overlooking a large blue lake on a warm summer morning.

"Lord?" I ask.  "What do you want me to do with my life?"

"Amy, I want you to write your story to bring hope and healing to those who are suffering."

I stood there.
Silent.
For a few minutes.

That was a few years ago.

I started writing the book a year ago.  I was writing at a good pace.  It was chronological, as detailed as I could be and I feel very good about it.

Then my medication crashed.  For the last four months I've been dealing with depression and all other sorts of mental illness that are now correctly medicated.  It's time to get back in gear.

I started tracking my blog stats and they've been steadily increasing.  It's very humbling and a little exciting to see how many people visit my blog.  I pray it's helpful.

When I got sick about four weeks ago and couldn't write much, naturally the visitors to my blog took a nose dive.  What I didn't realize is how much I was relying on those numbers to keep me writing.

I lost my passion for storytelling.  It became a ball and chain instead of a craft I truly enjoy. My mind was focused on my performance and not on the calling God had placed in my heart.

I talked to God about it a couple of days ago.
He spoke to me again.

"Amy, your job is to do the writing.
 I'm responsible for the results."

Since then, I haven't checked the stats once.  I've been able to write freely and I started organizing my book so I can brainstorm how to approach it this season.

Letting God into these decisions is so much easier than trying to figure them out on my own.  He wants to help me, He wants to bless me and He doesn't want me to feel stressed out by it.

Equally, He wants me to do the work so I feel a sense of accomplishment.  He wants me to pace myself so I don't over do it and He wants me to get help from others so I don't carry the burden by myself.

When I do the work, God will bless it.