Why I Trust God

My background gave me no reason to trust anyone.  No women, no men and especially no authority figures.  I grew up from ages 14-21 in twelve step groups before I gave my life to Jesus.  If I couldn't trust anyone down here, how in the world did I trust Someone up there?

When I was sexually abused and then my personality split, we were taken to Sunday school where I learned about God's love for me.  Something must have stuck because when I was seeking to begin a relationship with a Higher Power in twelve step groups, the intellectual concept was not hard to grasp.  It was the emotional one.

You see, I was a very mixed up teenager who was emotionally needy for a best friend and a Mom.  I, at age 17, was still looking for someone to love me enough to want to take care of me and help me emotionally.  I was looking for an adult woman who could see past my pain, into the hell of hurt and abandonment I was living in.  Was there anyone who saw it?  Anyone who didn't try to "tough love" me out of legitimate longings to be held and loved?  Or those who felt threatened in their marriages because of their own issues then passed that bullshit onto me and blamed me?

Yes.  There were two women who gave me the gift of their love at a time in my life when I struggled the most:

• I stopped by Debra's house after trying to see a "friend" when her father died.  We were talking in a private room.  She has several children who were young at the time.  I remember pouring out my heart to her, knowing she was listening intently.  She is someone whose walk with God I have always admired.  When I stood up to leave she reached out to give me a hug and as we hugged something I'd longed for happened.  She held onto me for a very very long  time.  No talking, no crying.  I rested in her hug and I believe I drifted off.  I never felt love like that before and it's the warmest memory I've carried for thirty years.

• Avis came into my life when I was new to Al-Anon.  She always came up to me after the meeting and said something nice.  Then she'd bear hug me.  She was just a little thing but she knew how to hug!  She loved me for me.  She didn't judge me or try to make me into someone I wasn't.  She helped me grow through the twelve steps and listened whenever I called or came over.  She, too, is one of the most love-filled people I have ever known.  Her spiritual life was one I wanted.  In fact, when I learned about how much God wanted to have a relationship with me, she was the one I called.  I love her to this day although I lost touch with her many years ago.

I firmly believe God brought Debra and Avis into my life to heal that little girl inside who was crying out for someone to love her - just once, to hold her and tell her how special she is.  I believe this because it happened and it happened perfectly.

I trust God because even when people act like people and do stuff people do, I know in my heart that I am one of God's treasures,

I am His beloved daughter,

I am saved by His grace,

I am loved because He first loved me,

I am not to fear for He is with me and

I am to forgive others as I have been forgiven.

Yeah, I trust God more than I trust anyone on this planet.

Another Self-Care Writing

As you know my mental illness, physical challenges and emotional stumblings are being treated by a very competent team for the last almost three years.  My psychiatrist, my therapist and my internist.  Receiving regular help has not erased any of the daily challenges I face.  In fact, there are times the challenges are compounded in the name of "healing."

Why do I elect to have those challenges aggravated or poked?

I've been learning there are times when the pain I feel, feels like I won't survive.  Like the time I had to have stitches in my foot in third grade.  Six needles, six very loud screams, six times I begged my Dad to make them stop.  I didn't think I'd survive the pain.

Then it stopped.  I survived.  The physical pain stopped.  My crying stopped.  My begging stopped.  I was reassured there would be no more pain and it was true.  I was bandaged up.  I was given a sticker which I have in my Baby Book and a set of crutches to help me get around.  The pain stopped.

But that moment, from the time I felt the piece of glass in the river where we were swimming cut my foot, to the time the Fire Squad cleared off a picnic table and moved quickly to get me on top of it to the time my Dad put me in the car and drove 65 mph to McHenry Hospital to the time I was wheeled out and saw my Mom and sisters waiting for me in the Emergency Room waiting room....all of that is seared in my memory as a painful moment.  It was part of the whole experience.

Today I'm responsible for taking care of myself.  I'm contacting my internist to ask if I can have my sleep apnea retested.  All of my blood work is in line and other than my obesity and some high cholesterol, I'm on the right track.

Just yesterday I met with my psychiatrist.  We meet once a month.  He was surprised and happy to see the weight loss I've had since I last saw him.  He asked how much I'd lost and I said seven pounds.  I think that's correct but weigh-in for me is next Tuesday.

He laughed and said, "Amy, you need to be in the sunshine and 75 degrees!"  I laughed and agreed with him.  But I'd never leave my family.  We discussed cutting out some of the mood stabilizers that induce weight gain to help me loose weight better.  They were meant to be temporary to get me through the winter anyway so changes have been made.

Those changes have given me confidence that I can lose this weight.  If it's tied to something emotional, I have my keen drill sergeant therapist ready to hammer at me to help me get to the core of what's going on.

Do you have a therapist like that?  I swear, she can change from kind and encouraging into drill sergeant on a dime.  Her nineteen years of experience and the permission I've given her to drill me make a tight and winning combo when it comes to receiving the same encouragement and kindness in the form of pushing me harder to get my therapy journey moving quicker.  As much as I count on my therapy sessions each week, I would like to graduate in the next two years.

Why?

Because God has a book He wants me to write and I'm feeling better able to write it.
 

The Meaning of Memorial Day

On this holy day, the day we draw nearer to our God and our Jesus, I find myself deeply moved this Memorial Day weekend.  I hold a high regard and respect for men and women in uniform.  I wanted to enlist in the Air Force after high school but my Dad asked my uncle to drive out and talk me out of it. I regret listening to him but because he was a Vietnam survivor, his word carried a lot more weight than my own ambition.  Still...I wonder what trajectory my life would have taken?

In searching for meaning of this day, not just meaning of a soldier's death, I found this video.  It's educational in nature but does not diminish the sacrifice of each life throughout history that made my freedom possible.  I hope you take the time to watch this and include your children as well.