Taking Proper Care

This week has been getting progressively slower.  I know the depression is increasing yet I keep pushing myself forward.  It's takes a lot of mental energy.  I'm finding the mornings are the best times to tackle household projects.

I can get the basics done when I give myself a challenge.  For instance, get all five cat boxes cleaned out before 9:00 and sweep the floors along with it.  Then I can take a break.  I can put stuff away where it belongs, wipe down counters, dust furniture, wash windows and other things as I move along.

My twelve step groups always taught me to stick to the basics.  Don't drink and go to meetings.  Here at home I clean out the cat boxes and sweep up the floors.  Then I can rest without anything hanging over my head.

This may seem odd to write about.  In fact it's quite the opposite.  Depression, when not managed correctly, can demonize daily routines.  It's not only about taking medication.  It's also about continuing to function even if it's at the lowest level or ability.

If I didn't have my basics to get done every day, my cats would be neglected, my house would stink and the mess would be bigger when I did get around to it.  There's no reason at all to live that way.  I love my cats.  I love them so I take proper care of them.

And by taking proper care of them, I take proper care of myself.

Digging In Depression

Depression is once again rattling my cage.  It's beginning to bear down on me and I'm doing everything I know to keep it away from me.  I think I need to pull out my emergency arsenal.

I have a plastic lidded box that holds my secret weapons.  Things I learned while in the hospital.  They are technically called coping tools.  That's a good title for them.

There are things like affirmation cards, play-duh, handheld Yahtzee, coloring books and crayons, stress ball, Rubik's cube and other things.  I use them to distract the depression - to give it an outlet besides bringing me down.

I'm not isolating.  I don't want to be with people so I'm trying to compromise without over doing it.  One of the people I see the most is my neighbor.  She has some serious cutting issues but will never do anything about it.

This time of the year is hard because she wears short sleeves.  Her arms are heavily covered with scars and the latest cuts from decades of self-injury.  When asked if she'll consider stopping, she replies, "No.  It's what I've always done and I have no plans on stopping.  You can't talk me out of it."

How sad that is to me.  And how quickly I become angry when I see it.  And how much I want to say to her, "For God's sake, put on long sleeves when you're out in public.  Nobody wants to see what you do to yourself, especially me."

I've already told her I won't take her to the hospital anymore.  She'll have to dial 911.  I can't stand the sight of all the blood nor all the open wounds.  It triggers me to cut and I don't need that in my life anymore.  She understood.  I don't ask about her cutting to draw attention to it and she doesn't talk about it with me.  I just can't go there.

Maybe being around her so much is difficult.  I know my anger has increased.  If I point the fingers back at me, I have to ask myself, "Why am I so angry at myself?  What am I doing or not doing that is causing this anger?"

I think I'm angry at mental illness.  All of it.  I have things I want to accomplish but now I'm struggling again.  I want to deep clean my bedroom but I can't do it yet.  I want to keep my house cleaner so I clean it and then it starts to get disorganized again.  I'm starting to get tired in the afternoon again.  And now the depression is starting.

I guess I'd like to have my cake and eat it, too.

Do Friendships Last Forever?

About fifteen years ago I reconnected with a woman I knew from twelve step groups.  I had fond memories of her and was happy to see her again.  From her reaction to me, she felt the same way.

We bumped into one another at a church group.  From that day on we rekindled a fun and healthy friendship that would last about 3 years.  It was one of those friendships where for a short time you live a lifetime.

God brought her back into my life to help me get through the sexual abuse memories that were flooding out of me.  She taught me that Jesus was there when it was happening and he wept, too.  That image has helped me push through the most painful parts of the abuse.  No exaggeration.

She is a prayer warrior.  She prayed for me constantly and fervently.  I remember this one time a dentist was filling a cavity in the lower region of my front teeth.  He nicked a nerve that required steroid and pain medication.  It took a few weeks to get the right combination.

One night at church she was there as a prayer person.  We hadn't seen each other for awhile.  I sat with her and as she was getting ready to pray, she cupped her hand under my chin and held it there as she prayed.  Her touch didn't frighten me.  It's one of the few times I let someone touch my face.  And soon after, our friendship faded away.

I don't know why I've always thought friendship should last forever.  Maybe it's because the way I was raised caused me to be so empty inside and starving for love.  Maybe I wanted to be mothered a little while by a mature woman who thought I was worth it.  Or maybe I was secretly hoping I could be part of another family, blend right in like I always belonged there.

I had each of those kinds of friendships for a little while.  One of them said she wished I was her daughter.  Another said she wished she was my mother.  I felt sad both times when they said it.  I understood the sentiment.  It was meant to be something good.  It's just that I knew it wasn't possible.  The dream I had would never come true.

And thank God it never did.

I don't know if this is healthy or not but I don't get to close to people anymore.  I guard my heart.  I've had too much brokenness and made too many mistakes.  And let's be honest, having mental illness doesn't help.

My family and 5 friends are my bonds.  They know me inside and out.  I educate them on my illnesses.  They help me with feedback.  Writing this book is difficult.  They give the right suggestions based on what I can handle.  And if they say something wrong that upsets me or if they need more information from me, I tell them.  That's what I'm responsible for - that's my end of our relationship.

The only friendship that lasts forever and doesn't have to be coddled is my relationship with God.  He knows when I'm a mess, He knows when I need His help and He knows I want to live a better life.

And He knows my heart.

Forgiving Animal Neglect

I've been dreaming a lot about our dogs, Susie and Dina.  I dream they are outside with dog houses and hooked up to long chains, which they were.  They have food and water bowls.  But the water bowls are usually empty, the food bowls not filled every day and sometimes their chains would get wrapped up together.

In the dream it's my mom's responsibility to feed them.  She's working full-time like she did in real life.  My dad never helped with their care.  It was our job to go get their bowls.  She'd prepare their food, we go out and give it to them and also fill up their water dishes.

In my dream, the dogs were well taken care of because in my dream, we had enough food for them.  I had all my cats which I fed and cleaned out their litter boxes.  I had all the supplies I needed.  When I opened their door, kitties and kittens would come into the house to be fed.  It was like a little sanctuary for them.  

In my dream, some of them lived outside or between the house and the crawl space.  Sometimes the dogs were brought into the house before a storm.  Everyone was in the house for most of the winter depending on the temperatures.  There was enough food and supplies to meet all of the animals needs.

In my dream, I remembered what it was like growing up.  My dad threw shoes our cats in anger.  He was such a jerk.  I seethed with rage when he did that.  I was too small to do anything to stop him.  When the dogs would go without dog food, I'd make a bowl of cereal and eggs.  Mom said that was good.  The dogs would be so happy to see us with a bowl they'd be jumping up and down.  Now I understand why.

As we got older, I made sure they had water during the day, sometimes two bowls.  I was more diligent about their feeding times, too.  

Having cats of my own for almost 30 years, I know how to take care of them.  My mom gave me that compliment.  She said, "Amy, you've always taken such good care of your animals."  

My mom has regrets about the animals she cared for.  We lived in such a dysfunctional environment I'm surprised any of us survived.  My dad had one dog he loved.  That was all he loved in our home.

Forgiving herself is something my Mom has had to do.  She won't talk about it.  That's okay.  Sometimes somethings are too hard to talk about.  She told me that God has given her a way of atonement by having her own dog sitting business.  The love and care she gives to all these animals is a way of making up for what she didn't know back then.  

I Know I Need A Revival When...

The Women of Faith tweet asked us to answer that question.

Here's my response:

I know I need a revival when…the number of quiet times in the bathroom multiplies and while I’m in there the number of minutes I spend deep in thought increases without being aware of time passing.

I’m on disability for mental illness and physical limitations. I live alone. I depend on God and others to help me out. A revival gives me the spiritual shock, much like the electric paddles do to the heart. The spiritual shock does not bring me back from the dead nor does it return me to my old self.

A spiritual shock revives the life God wants me to live. It clears out the wreckage that needs to be removed, to make space for what God has purposed for my life. God has asked me to let go of the old, let go of what’s not working, to trust His plan and move forward in faith.

Revival – Newness.

The reality of how I live has been forefront in my mind.  The choices I make, some of them having consequences and some having benefits, are being looked at more closely.  That's because I'm in the stage of taking a moral inventory of myself.

Twelve step groups call it a fourth step.  Since I'm not actively attending 12 step groups, I'm calling it an inventory of self.  I'm looking at similar topics, mixing it up with scripture, remembering my 12 step applications and inviting my Abba Father into the process.  

As a disciple of Jesus Christ, experiencing a revival of self is a lot like taking out the trash.  The trash bag is in a container.  The bag gets filled with stuff we used and liked, didn't use, didn't like or used and didn't like.  When the bag is full we securely close it and lift it out.  

Then one of two thing happen, right?  Either the bag leaks or it doesn't leak.  Either the bag breaks or it doesn't break.  Either you stay in a good mood or you're cursing at the bag.  Your true self has just been exposed for all to see.

That's what an inventory is like.  It has all these pieces in cabinets, pantries and refrigerators that need to be examined.  Then they get rated:  Good, Okay, Toss.  In the toss pile, should those be replaced by something "Good" or completely let go of?  If "Okay," do you replace with something "Good?"  Have your "Tossed" items hurt anyone?  You get the idea.

I'm at the beginning stages.  I've done so many 4th steps I never tire of them.  They used to scare me because I never thought I'd have anything left at the end.  Now I know what I'll have left is more good stuff than toss stuff.

Hard To Say No To Others For Self-Care

A couple of days ago, a dear friend invited me for a cup of tea. Initially I said yes and was excited to be able to sit across from her and listen to what's going on in her life.  But the next day I remembered I had a therapy appointment scheduled.

When I have therapy I don't schedule anything else.  It's because I'm usually anxious before I go, jittery while I'm in there and who knows what emotions are going to get stirred up.  It's been a good decision to lay low the rest of the day or take myself to mindless places where I don't have to interact with people.

Sometimes I leave a therapy session feeling exposed.
Other times I feel nothing - numb.
There are days I might be teary although lately those are few.
Then there are days I am angrier than anything I know what to do with.

Since I'm an introvert, I process best internally and alone.
I like to figure out stuff by myself then bring it to someone.
But there are times I get stuck so I bring it all and
dump it at my therapist's feet.
I think each of us silently drops it at the foot of the cross.

I don't leave every session a mess - lately I do.
I always like to give myself a clear schedule to take care of myself so I don't self-injure.

I love my friend and I'll miss not sharing tea with her.

However, self-care is teaching me that I have to love myself more so that I don't cut on my body or drink alcohol or shove food into my stomach so that I don't feel whatever it is I need to feel.  She doesn't know about that side of my life.  It's not time for me to reveal it.  When it is time, I'll tell her.

And in my heart....I know it won't be a big deal that I missed our time together.
How do I know this?  Because I know her heart.

Doing Good For Others

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

For the past week, I've been very busy.  A great busy.  The kind of busy that makes great memories in my mind and in the mind of those I love.  The kind of busy that fills my heart very full.

I tell you this because as a person with mental illness, being busy can add a lot of stress and make my symptoms sky rocket to the point of becoming non-functional.  I avoid that kind of busy often.  But I decided to plan for this kind of busy and prepare myself for it so that I could enjoy the events and the family members involved in them.

My middle niece had her junior high theater performance.  She was wonderful!  I could hear her speaking parts and her vocal parts.  She is a dynamic actress and brings a lot to the stage.  I couldn't be more proud of her.  I missed her choral concert which really bummed me out so being at her play was very important to me.  She's a beautiful young lady with lots of talent.

It was the IHSA Finals Track Meet for my oldest niece.  Her first as a freshman on the varsity team.  She ran three events.  I was an icicle by the end of her third heat.  She ran her heart out.  Her 4x100m team smoked the other schools.  I'd been to as many meets as I could go to.  I am so proud of her efforts and her love of athletics.

My youngest niece joined soccer for the first time.  She's been tearing up the field this spring.  I was fortunate enough to be able to see her last two soccer games.  I was even there to see her score a goal!!!  She is aggressive and does exactly what her coaches tell her to do.  I can't wait to see how she develops in this sport.

My nephew graduated from high school.  That was quite a site to see and be part of.  Watching him being born all the way through his academic years thus far is certainly something to behold.  This young man has had to make some hard choices but in the end, he's made more right ones than wrong ones.  I'm eager to see where God leads him in the next chapter of his life.

Doing good for others, for me, means managing my mental illness in such a way that I can show up for these young people who I love beyond reason.  If that means I have to chill out and isolate a few days beforehand, I do it.  If it means I have to take anxiety meds or take them with me, I do it.  If it means I limit the amount of time I can stay at an event or socialize afterwards, I do it.

My illnesses are not hidden from my family or my close friends.  They are not the main focus, either.  If I have enough prep time, I ask how much the person wants me to be there.  Then I measure how much energy the event will require.  Then I take it from there.

Doing good for others is also doing good for myself.
I don't live in isolation unless I need to fill up my solitude tank.
Sometimes doing good for others takes me out of my comfort zone.

In the end, it's not such a bad thing.