Bipolar Depression

Bipolar depression debilitates a person and also causes irrational thoughts to be entertained entirely too long in my mind.  Thoughts of:

• Living completely alone or
• Wondering if being alone is enough

• Racing thoughts about friendships or
• Racing thoughts about no friendships at all

• Arguing with people about wrongs they've done to me or
• Using physical force to make a point about their wrong

• Eliminating all help from all professionals or
• Quietly slipping away and missing all my appointments

Bipolar depression.  A beast in the mind that is very hard to tame.  It lives, it breathes and it ceases the body into acts of  shame.  Self-injury all through my mouth.  A knife would be easier but too messy.

So I take my meds and wait for it to pass.

It will pass.

I know not when.

 

At the Depth of Depression

At the depth of depression, there is no where deeper to go.
No where that is safe, everything is quite slow.
The thoughts that ramble above in my head,
They speak truths I try to believe.
And yet I wish they were silent as a the wind and that all of them would leave.

I am scared for the repairs, on my car that must be made,
I fear it won't happen, for that, I am afraid.
My heart tells me differently, my heart does not worry,
It's my own deal with God, in my soul, there is fury.

I look at the stories of people whose gifts,
Have gone beyond their asking, and not just a little bit.
For different reasons they are given quite much,
For deaths and cancer and loss.
Yet here I remain, in my own little world,
Without an ask that's good enough.

Is it mental illness that no one can embrace?
The fight to say alive?
Or must I be in an accident or worse, commit suicide?
Do they not know the paralyzing fear that grips me inside?
Or do they only hear, "money" as some sort of prize?

I've fought and fought to have a life that is filled with strength and not regret. Those body memories and the ones in my head?  Those I'll never forget.
Thrashing about my bed when sexual abuse comes up.
Wanting to stop those memories but instead I wake up.
The colors of bruises, the smell of his breath, the staring of his eyes -
Yes, I attempted death.

From four years old to until my early twenties, my body was abused.
It doesn't matter who did it only that I was being used.
Recovery has been hell but what else am I supposed to do?
Let the abusers win and hear them say, "We never loved you?

Really?  Yeah, and that's what broke my heart, my trust but not my spirit.

The mental illnesses I have are time consuming enough.
I could list them all out for you but would it could be too rough.
But given now I have nothing left to lose,
I will list them out because in my life, they try to make me lose:

Bipolar Depression
Borderline Personality Disorder
Acute Anxiety Disorder
Acute Panic Disorder
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Psychosomatic Seizures
Mood Disorders
Hear Radio and Voices in my Head

Physically I have chronic migraines, a bad right knee that will need to be taken care of someday and I've had two back surgeries in my lumber/sacral spine the latest in July 2010.

So yes, I've had times when I haven't been able to work but that doesn't mean I didn't work to the best of my ability.  When the seizures started in 2006, that's when I knew.  You see, I always knew if whatever it was that was hiding deep within ever came out, I would be hospitalized.  It did - and I was.

No, I haven't worked since 2008.
I've been hospitalized for many reasons since the awareness of the rape.
But that doesn't seem to matter, my mental health, that is.
Unless it's causing me some sort of other hardship, and that for sure it is.

But it's not visible, you see, to those on the outside.
I battle everyday to keep myself alive.
And even though you do not see the battle scars on my face,
I can most assuredly tell you, they are all over the place.
The scars from self-injury, just ask me, I'll show you where they are,
I can say this for sure - I take myself to the hospital using my own car.
Without it I am paralyzed, unable to take care of myself.
I'm not willing to let that happen, no matter what the outcome from the giving of help.

I'll close with this thought it's not a popular theme.
I believe God will take care of me even if the help isn't what it seems.
Sometimes it's yes and sometimes it's no,
In either case, whatever the answer, my heart will say go slow.

In prayer, my God, my need is lifted high.
For you know the worries of my soul and how my spirit longs to fly.
But on this day my spirit sinks into a depression very low.
I want to know you are taking care of me...
Because you love me so.

Financial Help

Many years ago I began having flashbacks about my Dad sexually abusing me.  He'd physically and verbally abused me but I never had memories of the the sexual abuse.  It wasn't until I was working for a Christian ministry.

The flashbacks started years prior of other people who had done the same thing.  Including my Dad, there are six, both men and women.  I had memories of those sexual abuses and I accepted them much easier.  But the ones with my Dad turned my world upside down.

I began having pseudo seizures, an emotional body response which sent me to the hospital more times than I can count.  I would feel it coming on, lay down on my bed and my entire body would shake for several minutes.  When the shaking wouldn't stop and I had difficulty communicating, I would go into a comatose state and stare at an object on the ceiling.  I could hear what was going on around me but I couldn't respond.  In my head I'd be screaming, "I can hear you!" but I was unable to change my body's response.  Tears would fall from my eyes down the side of my face.  The doctors and nurses would be so kind as we waited for it to subside.  Medications were given to help that process.  This lasted for a couple of years.

Because of the frequency, I was admitted and checked for epilepsy.  The test was negative but the doctor was not convinced something else was going on.  This is when I was brought to Rush University Medical Center in Chicago.  A group of  doctors, all having different specialties, diagnosed the seizures as emotional based.  I was told to see a therapist, work on cognitive based therapy and attend a mental illness group for support.  I was already doing all of those.

Even though I walked away disappointed and frustrated, at least I had an answer.  I saw a psychiatrist who was able to help with the medication.  I have had wonderful therapists since that time who have dug into my past and I faced it.  I've been hospitalized several times and groups are a part of that environment.

The sad thing is that it doesn't change my financial status.  I had to leave Bright Hope under not so ideal circumstances.  I waited six months to be approved for social security disability, easily a third of what I was bringing home.  Many friends and family helped me out the first year or so.  Now I find I'm in a similar situation needing car repairs I can only fix with your help.

I have a budget but haven't been able to save because of my bills.  I've trimmed back as much as I can.  I don't go on shopping sprees or spend beyond my means.  I don't bounce transactions in my checking account.  I tithe a small amount each month.

I need help.  Temporary help.  Would you consider giving to my car repair fund?  Anything would be a great help.

Amy's Car Repair Fund

I know God will take care of me - He always does.  On that promise, I never waiver.  The Bible says, "You do not have because you do not ask."  I am asking Him to provide for my need however much or little He sees fit.  I promise to use it only for the repairs and to make those repairs as the funds come in.

Thank you.

Father and Father

Today would have been my dad's 72nd birthday had he not passed away on February 21, 2008.  I've been thinking a lot about him.  Not anything specific.  More like an awareness that he is gone and my sisters and I are still here.  It's weird.

I was thinking how I would have liked to give him a birthday card.  But that's living in a fantasy.  My dad stopped talking to me three years before he died for reasons I'll never know.  I kept reaching out to him - no response.  It's sad, really, to think that my father who helped create me would abandon me so easily.  Then again, is it really that much of a surprise?

Truthfully, no it's not.  Considering the man he was when I was growing up it's not hard at all to recognize his abusive behavior as part of the disease of alcoholism.  Alcoholism steals people away and many of them never make or take the journey back.  They are lost inside an insidious disease that seeks and destroys the men and women who are in it's grip.  I know because I'm a recovering alcoholic and just celebrated six years of sobriety.

If I gave my dad a birthday card and if our relationship had been healed and if he didn't marry his second wife and if he chose to not only stop drinking but attend AA meetings and go to therapy to get well, I'd buy a nice sentimental card.  He liked those better than the humorous ones.  I'd write his name down the blank left hand side of the card and use the letters of his name, like this:

Humorous
A great carpenter
Neither near nor far
Knows stuff

But that card wasn't bought.
The card wasn't filled out.
His name and address are not written on the envelope.
I do not need a stamp because isn't being mailed.

Instead, I went to church today and learned more about my Father in Heaven and our relationship:

• I am to meet with God first 
• I am to let God change me
• Let myself live in His power
• Try 30 days of meeting with God
• Live moment by moment
• Fail FOR God
• God doesn't hide sin
• Tell the truth
• God shows us the Promiseland when we obey his commands
• God buried Moses by Himself and we know not where Moses is buried
• Ask myself, "Am I struggling to let go of sin for disappointing God?"
• Live in this truth:  Nothing, when I confess it TO God, separates me FROM God.

See the difference?  An earthly father bogged down by sin, guilt, shame and a host of other feelings is lost in self-destructive behavior and does not have a light to get out.  My Heavenly Father reminded me that sin, when  confessed, is forgotten.  I can live in the freedom that Jesus died for all sin on the cross and remain in His light.

I miss my Dad.  He was a great guy whose whole life was bogged down in abuse and addiction.  I feel bad for him.  I really do.

He died alone, my Dad.  The coroner said it was a heart attack but I believe something else happened.  I can't prove it so I won't say it.  Let's just say there is evidence of a person of interest who did everything she could to keep my sisters and I away from him and it worked.

But here's the catch:  Even though my name, my Dad's brothers and their families and his pre-deceased parents were not listed in the obituary and the obituary was insulting and offensive to our entire family, I have a birth certificate with his name on it.  Above the word, "Father"  it says, "Henry Raymond Endler, Jr."  No one can ever take him away from me.  His urn?  Yes.  His things?  Yes. The pictures and trinkets and gifts we gave to him from the time we were in grade school through adulthood?  Yes.

But love, even tough love which speaks volumes and screams for healing, can never be taken away.  I doubt the evil this person bestowed upon us will ever understand.  Even with all the abuse he did to me, it can never be washed away by someone else's sickness and control and denial.  Only God can heal a deeply abused soul that survived horrific abuse. And that soul is mine.

Sam's Club hot dogs, a Mug Rootbeer, runs to Menard's and Home Depot - that's my Dad.  Working with him spraying houses for bees then sitting in his truck for lunch eating hot dogs - that's my Dad.  Sitting across the table talking about things in my life - that's my Dad.  That's the Dad I want to remember.  For a very brief time I had my Dad and that's who I miss.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

I hope you're in heaven, fully healed and fully restored.
That's my birthday wish for you.

Love your forever daughter,
Amy Kathleen (He named me)