Visiting the Past, Preparing for the Future

Have you ever had one of those conversations in your head with another person?  I do sometimes when I feel like I have to defend myself.  Real or imaginary.

This morning's defense was about my weight and being fat.
It's imaginary theater in the trappings of my mind.

The woman I am talking to knows me a little bit but nothing about my past.  She has worked hard to be in good shape and I have a deep amount of respect for her.

I'm at her house when she says to her daughter, "C'mon, let's get going.  You don't want to be fat like your Aunt Amy."

"Really?"  I said.  "Maybe you outta school your girl on what some of the reasons are why some girls are fat.  It's not all for the love of food.

Maybe some of us were sexually abused by our fathers from an early age, maybe we had 6 other abusers; what about the physical abuse with bruises on our bodies from being hit with his hands or being beaten with his belt.

What about the time he slammed me and my sister's heads together when we were running outside and the next thing we knew he grabbed us by the back of our necks and wham!  And let's not forget our mom taking us out of the house for the weekend only to come home to the furniture being broken and strewn about in his fit of rage.

Then there's the yelling, all the yelling, at night when I'm supposed to go to school the next day.  Yelling at my mom, yelling at me, grabbing me by the front of the neck and shoving me up against the wall, staring at me, not making a move or a noise.  It was a game and I prayed for the day I'd be big enough to kill him.

And when they divorced finding out about his affair.  I moved in with him for three months.  Then I moved out.  I was such a mess.  I didn't want him in my life anymore and told him.

He came back into my life when Ryan was born.  He denied abusing me when I confronted him.  In later years, he was diagnosed with colon cancer.  He stopped speaking to me and stopped returning my calls three years before he died.

When he did die, I was sad.  But you know what?  My name was not in his obituary like my other two sisters.  I didn't exist.  So how do you think that made me feel?  Even more sad that I was never wanted by him.

So don't ever tell me or anyone else a screwball's opinion of why I'm fat.  Many people, especially woman, don't have the guts to listen to the truth without judging.  Have the courage to ask us about our weight then prepare yourself to really listen with your heart and not just your ears."

I don't know that God would ever have me go off like that on a person but wow, did that feel good to write. And I didn't even write half of what I wanted to say.

Abused people, or at least this abused person, wants to spew out all the corrosive memories that still make me cry.  I know I'm just getting in touch with those feelings and the sadness still needs to steadily stream out yet I look forward to the day when the book God wants me to finish will be filled with those memories and my spirit will be freed up to help others through theirs.

The weight is creeping off and I'm okay with it.  A little excited, actually.  It feels good to be in a good place to put these pounds to rest.  It's like I'm burying them in the past where they belong.

Isaiah 26:8

"Lord, we show our trust in you by obeying your laws; our heart’s desire is to glorify your name."

Teaching Mental Illness the Truth

As I was poking around the web this morning, I visited one of my favorite sites, NAMI.   Click here for What Is Mental Illness  

I am feeling a bit under the weather and alone in the mental illness I live with.  That's normal because seldom do I find someone who shares the same struggles I do on a daily basis.  I've learned to put on my happy face so I don't draw attention to myself from anyone in the outside world.  I am most comfortable being myself at home with the door closed where no one can see me.

I made a mistake this week I really regret.  I was trying to recharge my car's air conditioning.  Everything was going good until the gauge went into the red zone.  That meant I needed to add refrigerant first.  Without thinking, I started  to unscrew the gauge.  I didn't realize the pressure built up inside the can.  Well, let's just say $38 worth of a/c coolant sprayed all over the passenger side of my car, including the lubricant, so there went $38 down the drain.  I was horrified because I was using my birthday money to do this and I could do nothing to stop it.

After talking to a great mechanic, he told me I could get my systems dye checked for leaks for $44 to see if it's the compressor (which is more than likely because of our very harsh winter weather) and that would cost $500.  Well, that's not going to happen.  I live on disability pay and right now I have more important car repairs scheduled through the end of the year.

Summer number two without air conditioning.

But you know what?  I know my God is a big God and He will supply all my needs.  I don't see a/c as being a need.  It's a luxury.  I have a/c in my house and it's wonderful.  I have a friend I hang with during the day and she has a/c if we're running errands and need it.  In the great scheme of "needs", this is not one of them.

People are homeless, living on the streets.
People are dying from AIDS including babies our country.
Parents are living in squalor conditions, feeding their kids grass or mud cookies to survive in Syria.
People, young and old, are committing suicide because they have no hope.
People are dying from drug and alcohol addiction because they want to kill those inner demons.

What you're about to read is my opinion only:

Jesus is the only hope any of us have.  He was born to bring us hope.  He taught to teach us hope.  He met with sinners to give them hope.  He endured a beating we should have had to show us our hope in times of trouble.  He walked and carried our cross to show us to always look ahead to our gift of hope.  He laid down on the cross and looked up at Heaven while He was being nailed to the cross to show us who to focus on when our hope was fading and needed to be restored.  When His cross was being raised and thumped into the ground and Jesus cried out in pain, His cry reminded us that sometimes hope comes at a cost.  When the thief was mocking Him about sending the angels to get Him down, Jesus had hope that His Father was taking care of everything.  When the second thief rebuked the first and asked Jesus to bring Him into Paradise with Him, Jesus' spirit of hope was lifted and He said, "You shall be with me."  When Jesus looked to His Mother and to John, the disciple He loved, he had peaceful hope giving His Mother as John's Mother and John as His Mother's Son.  When Jesus said, "It is finished," He had hope that He finished His Father's purpose for His life - To reconcile us to God so we could spend eternity with Him.

My Savior is my only hope.  When mental illness tries to rob me of hope or tries to make itself the end all of all my problems, I can't let it.  I fight to make it what it is - an interruption of my thoughts.

If I make it any bigger, I'm sure to lose the battle and therefore, lose hope that all will be well.

Trading in the Pits for Positive

Getting so tired at the end of the day can be good.  I'm not stressed out.  I'm not thinking about anything that's upsetting. And the cats are sleeping so there's no noise.

I remember times when I couldn't get my thoughts to quiet down.  I'd be obsessing about a situation by rolling it around my head.  I'd play all the parts of the people involved.  It was mentally exhausting.  I'm glad I don't it as much.

I'm trying to make a clean break from a friendship that died a few years ago.  My birthday was on Saturday. Last year this person sent a text message through a phone I no longer have.  I was hoping not to hear from her this year.  I didn't.  August is her birthday.  This will be the first time since 1998 that I won't be acknowledging her birthday.  It will be a little painful but it's time.

I'm making room for people who want me in their life.  People who are not freaked out by the mental illness. People who don't judge me if I self-injure (I haven't cut since October 2012).  Women from my childhood I can go have tea or coffee or watch play volleyball.  Women I can chat up on Facebook. Women who light up and give me hugs and kisses.  Women who want to hear my voice and see my face. These are the ones I want to be with in friendship.  Even some of my cousins whom I love dearly.

Learning how to put aside the agoraphobia that prevents me from participating in activities that fill up my love quotient is important to learn.  I did that Tuesday night when I went to see a dear friend play volleyball. Because it was a late game, I decided to nap so I'd be awake and able to enjoy her.  She's always been competitive.  I even let myself enjoy being there!!

Although I missed our other friend who wasn't able to join us, I knew I would see her soon.  My volleyball friend and I were able to spend some time talking.  I got to hear about her day and about her three boys.  It was really neat to learn more about her.  I imagine there's more than meets the eye.

God is teaching me there's no rush.
For either of them.
Love them like Jesus would.
Take time to listen and
Let our trust grow over time.

That's just what I'm going to do.

Pebbles In My Shoes

Crawling underneath my mobile home, I was flat on my belly. In order to move forward I had to push my feet into the gravel then scoot myself up.  I felt like a turtle.  Moving a little at a time to reach my destination.  

I was moving my cable from one side of the house to the other.  Thankfully it was easy to do.  Getting out was easier because I already knew what movements to use.  When I was through and standing upright, I felt some of the little pebbles that were under the home in my shoes.  I took off my shoes and shook them out.

It reminded me of being a kid and getting sand in my shoes.  It was very uncomfortable so shaking out the sand brought instant relief.  Pebbles from the beach or from the river water were tolerated for a time because playing brought with it more patience for pain.

Then there's the story about the oyster.  Remember that?  The oyster is very sensitive.  So sensitive that if a grain of sand, if just one little grain gets inside, over a period of time, it turns into a pearl!  But that's not the only way.  Click on this link to read more about oyster's making pearls

Back to pebbles.  I've always liked pebbles.  I like the feel of them when I pick them up in my hands and let them fall out of my fingers to the ground.  I like walking through them and seeing how big my foot is.  I like spreading them around and making hills out of them.  Kid stuff.

Little rocks.  Aquariums, too.  So many uses, really.

I enjoy rocks and arrow heads and fossils and lava and red rocks.

I'm a rock collector.

For the sheer joy of something solid our God has made on our earth.

Rock solid.

Hallelujah

This is a special version of the song, "Hallelujah."



This song has been playing in my head all day.

I don't have anything to write.  No thoughts or stories.

Just this song to share.

I hope it touches your heart as much or even more than it touches mine.

Love,
Amy

Father's Day

When I was a little girl this day was the one time I hoped my daddy knew how much I loved him.  I'd make him a card with my own hands, write him a note with my own words and give it to him with a heightened sense of anticipation.  Even though my daddy wasn't the type of man to express his feelings, the little grunt he'd make and the, "Oh!" he'd say, well, it said it all.

He loved what I made and he loved me for making it.

Growing up through my junior high and high school years, the cards became a measurement of how much I loved him.  If the cards were somewhat sentimental or if they didn't measure up to what he wanted, no good  On the other hand, if they were filled with false words of how great a father he was and how much I loved him, those were met with "well done" reactions, like I'd won the grand prize of card giving.

Pleasing my dad was never easy to discern.  I either didn't measure up or measured up so much I didn't know how to do it better next time.  How do you please someone so that they'll love you every time?  I never did figure that out.

It started being hard having Father's Day nevermind right after my birthday when my parents divorced.  Mixed feelings, ya know?  Dad gives you a card and a gift.  I felt grateful because I missed my dad. Father's Day was hard because he wasn't at home anymore.  Even through all the abuse, this little girl still loved her daddy.  But along with the abuse came the painful memories that could not be forgotten.

Over the years, I would confront my dad about the abuse, he would deny it, we would have an on again off again relationship and then it happened.  In the summer of July 2006, he told all of us, including my mom, that he was going in for a test for colon cancer.  It was positive.  He had already stopped talking to me for reasons I'll never know.

I tried calling him, leaving three messages for him at home.  He never returned my calls or my sisters calls.  My dad went blind, one eye at a time.  He had high blood pressure.  He had colon cancer.  He went to bed the night of Feb 20, 2008 and died of a heart attack the morning of Feb 21,2008.

I wasn't mentioned in his obituary.
I truly did not exist to his wife.
I'll never be sure that was his wish
But I've got one up on both of them.

His signature is on my birth certificate as Father.

I miss my dad.  I hope he's in heaven free from his inner demons.  I know God chose him to be my dad. I believe he had great potential to be a great dad.  I had glimpses of that person several times.

I wish he would have had the courage to stare those demons in the face and give them to Jesus to kill.

Wherever you are dad, I wish your spirit peace.