God's Relentless Pursuit

When I think about God and how much I mean to Him, I think of a police pursuit.

It starts out with sirens blaring.
Screeching tires.
Fast speeds.
More cars added to the chase.
Racing behind me, up along side my car, motioning for me to pull over.
Constant attention.

Is that what the Bible says?
God pursues us recklessly?

No.
Not at all.

Revelation 3:20 says, “Look! I stand at the door and knock. 
If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and
we will share a meal together as friends."
  
He stands at the door and knocks.
He doesn't bulldoze the door down.

There are times it feels like my Christian walk is more like a run.
That's okay - for a period of time.
As long as rest comes in time before burnout happens.

God wants our relationship to downshift from mock 2 to drive.
He doesn't want me to coast without purpose or intention.
He wants me to rely on Him for direction and guidance.
He's the compass and I'm the one holding it, waiting for the path to reveal itself.
His love for me is so great I won't fully comprehend it until I'm in Heaven.

So I put away the police cars, the blaring sirens,
the screeching tires and the reckless speeds.
Instead, I grab hold of the One who knows a slow and
Steady pace builds endurance and overall strength.

This is especially important when managing Bipolar Depression,
Recovery from childhood abuse and coping with other mental illnesses.
The urge to pull back and isolate from a loving relational God
Happens very often.  I give in to it more often than not.
My faith is still strong and I know God loves me during those hard times.

His relationship with me is not based on my ability to relate or talk to Him every waking hour.
It's based on who He is, who the Bible says He is and who worship songs praise Him for.
He's all encompassing.
He knows me by name.
He does not turn away from me when I turn away from Him.
He loves me in my illnesses because He knows what troubles me.
He has compassion, provides help through medication and other resources and
The Holy Spirit gives me wise counsel especially on days I feel most distant.

No need to worry.
God's shoulders are broad.
He has my back!

Distractions, Food & Feelings

Feelings.

It seems to me that distractions would take away the need to zone out on food when it comes to handling the stress in my life.  After all, aren't distractions meant to turn the negative chatter in our head into something positive we can hold onto?  I thought so.

So why have the distractions not worked?  Why have they caused more stress instead of decreasing what's already building up?  Why haven't I seen this coming and done something about it to prevent an onslaught of days with poor eating choices?

Perhaps the eating disorder I have cannot be tricked into obedience.  Maybe it has to be treated like a bad habit and given 21 days straight of changed behavior (healthy behavior) to really change.  Maybe it needs to be inspired by the truths that wait on the other side of fat, in the world of thin.

It begins in my feelings.  Not in my head as a thought but in my gut as a feeling.  It can be hurt or sad or scared or pissed off or any of over 300 emotions.  

Feelings.

My job is to be in touch with how I'm feeling and follow that feeling to the end of it's cycle.  Don't eat over it or distract myself away from it but feel it.  I'm in the infancy stage of doing just that and it's no fun, I can testify.

What's worse is living with disappointment in myself and throwing rocks at my feeble efforts.  I have this grandiose reflection of myself that lies to me and tells me I can fix everything on my own without the help of others. 

You see, I have Borderline Personality Disorder, so I don't like many people and I trust even fewer.  When one of those trusted people puts an expectation on me or makes a decision for me without speaking to me first, we have a problem.  I'm entitled to my privacy and I'm entitled to my existence.

Getting down to the feelings is hard but not impossible.

Staying friends is hard when I feel wounded and angry.

I have to stay in check so that I don't do or say something hurtful.

I have to remember they, too, have feelings.

And I remember:

Feelings are feelings.

Struggling with Depression

Sorry I've been so irregular in my posts.  I've been wondering why I've had to push so hard to accomplish the menial tasks.  It's depression and it's back again.

I'm not sure if it's necessary for a medication adjustment.  I don't want to be dependent on my psychiatrist to make that decision and yet I find the boundary lines smudged.  Can I make that determination on my own?

I wake up in the morning still tired.  I'm waking up in the middle of the night but I'm able to go back to sleep.  My thoughts are foggy, not clear.  I have an agenda for part of the day which I accomplish but the open time I struggle to keep busy.  I mean I can keep busy but it's not productive.

Sometimes I have a mini meltdown and watch movies.  Other times I take a nap and the chatter in my head continues.  Then there are days like this when the day is long and feels never ending.  Those are the hard days.

My chest gets tight from the stress of not knowing what to do.  I did take myself to the library yesterday for some books from authors I enjoy.  I thought that might help.  I'm going to try reading after I finish writing this post.  It's worth a try.  I'm worth a try.

Bipolar Depression is a challenge to manage.

Staying on top of it is key.

If this doesn't get better in a week, I'll go see my psychiatrist.

Maybe it is the medication???

Social Security Disability

Yes, I'm happy to report another successful medication change finished early this week.  Had to completely remove one med because the sleep factor kicked in on the primary med causing a double sleep affect.  Everything is moving along just fine now.  I can focus, function at my normal level and feel confident and safe when driving.

My first hospitalization was in an outpatient hospital.  Spectacular program that helped people like me cope with the issues that were causing temporary chaos in our lives.  Those issues ranged from depression to abuse to obsessive disorders to bipolar mania.

They served up a large menu of coping tools like grounding yourself.  That's where you have both feet planted on the floor and you are consciously aware of your surroundings.  You are making eye contact with the other person, you are doing a task that requires your thoughts or if you are having a hard time sitting still, you use your 5 senses to keep you grounded.

By the time I was going down this track my psychiatrist at that time talked to me about going on Social Security Disability.  I was mentally and emotionally exhausted.  I knew it could take up to 6 months before I received my first check but I had to do it.  I was the only one who really knew what was going on inside my head and what was going on needed serious help.

Thank God that He sent friends and my church to help financially until that first check arrived.

And thank God that I don't have to worry about working especially when I'm doing a medicine adjustment.

Praise be to God because His provisions are always perfect!

Better Choices

Back in March/April, my medication began to slip and then I crashed.  I thought I could handle it on my own and like most addicts, I had to prove to myself that statement was a false one.  What a hard way to learn.

Since then my psychiatrist and I have been trying to find a medication that addresses a specific symptom that doesn't trip me out, doesn't make me eat everything not nailed down or have me sleeping all day.  Since I, like many others, am sensitive to medications, we go very slow.  If the side effects are manageable and tolerable we move forward by adding a little nudge upward in the amount of medication I'm taking.  

With this latest one, so far, so good.  It's been almost four months.  I'm feeling a little more alert although I still nod off during the day, friends say, "I can see and hear the old Amy coming back," and I notice it's easier to handle difficult situations.  I simply do what I can do and leave the rest to God.  I can't fix the world even if there are people I love and care about in the world.  If it's meant to be, God will orchestrate it.  If not, He will lead me to grieve like I have been.  I can't do that when I'm not properly medicated.

I believe I'll always be taking medication because my brain chemicals are a mess.  I don't mind. Sometimes being a guinea pig is what you have to do in order to get yourself to a place of functioning.  The ride to the destination may not be fun and waiting in line may be boring but really, what are the alternatives?

Write those down for yourself.

Think about the alternatives you've chosen.  Did they work?

Mine haven't.

In fact, it wasn't until I was able to get on medication that I was able to stay sober and lose 35 pounds.  I have a seven year coin in my pocket that I have earned.  I've cried it into being, fought for it and my right to be alive, I've listened to stories of other drunks or closet drinkers and I've prayed to God, begging for help.

No one said this would be easy and no one wants to hear my whining.  Get into action and do something about what's causing the problem no matter how much hard word it takes.

You and I are worth it!

TV Show, "24"

This show is right behind "The West Wing," (September 1999-May 2006).

24 aired from November 2001 - July 2014.  It was new and exciting and kept me on my seat once I started watching the DVDs.  Honestly, when it was airing, there was some discussion around the episode but I didn't understand it.  Good guy takes bad guys down in one hour.  So what?

Then I started paying attention to the hub-bub each week and I was curious.  Without giving away the setup of the show, I checked out Season One from my library.  If it wasn't for working, I would have only switched discs and accomplished nothing else for 2-3 days.  I caught the "Jack" bug and I was hooked.

I think 24 attracted a certain type of intellectual which is what made it interesting for me.  It wasn't your super cop, a weapons master, a fighter or even the best driver.  It's someone who can think on their feet and use all those tools, plus more, to take down the radical they are saving our country from.  Sound familiar?

But that's not my point.

For those of us who are Christians, there are days when we're being assaulted by Satan through hurt or pain or memories whose intensity seems to last a full 24 hours or longer.  Sometimes they enter and make a new scar, sometimes they enter through a newly made scar and sometimes they leave through an old raw scar.

You know what 24 and these scars have in common?  They all tell a story.  There's the beginning which tells the difficult struggle.  The plot that has intrigue and usually includes a dominant person.   The wind down that hides all the feelings or blocks them from coming out or just spills them out.

Then there's the conclusion.

Is your life, "The West Wing" where a majority of issues are dealt with out in the open?

      I was not magnificent | the west wing

Or is it, "24" where the next hour is filled with so much junk there's no time to talk, cry and share?

                      24 Seasons 1-6 Jack Bauer Best Scenes

I'm doing better reaching for the camp in "The West Wing."

Develop Interests

Get a hobby.
Develop an interest.

To keep my mind active I have a hobby and some interests.  One of those interests is the Decorah Eagles website where fledglings are born and hatched.  When the mates mate and the webcam is on, we wait for the eggs and then the crack to begin.  The little ones emerge, stay tucked under Mom or Dad and you get to see them feed as they grow up.

But don't let me spoil it for you.  Here's the link for 2016's eaglets.

decoraheaglecamalerts

Where Do You Turn When

Where do you turn when:

1. Your life feels upside down but isn't,
2. Your feelings feel unidentifiable but are.
3. Your work is taking up rent free space in your head so get some money.
4. Your finances are stable but you worry about the future.
5. Your relationships could end at any second but realistically the casualty rate will be low.

The first thing I always do is turn inward and turn to God.  When I am too introspective and get myself jammed up in the emotions/details, then I turn to movies.  When I'm bored watching movies I try to get it out on a blog but I'm very selective with what I share.  When I've talked to my therapist, checked in with my psychiatrist and completed all the above, then I turn to this:

My favorite TV show of all time, "The West Wing."

The writing and cast of this show is incredibly fast paced, highly intelligent, dry humor and educational.  It touches on real life issues for our country and does so with a Democratic President played by Martin Sheen.  It ran for 7 seasons and I enjoy it now on Netflix.

Today is one of those days where I felt like having a good cry but it was stuck.  I had to write a final email to a former friend and the loss hurts.  Not just emotionally but also psychologically.  I'll see her at church but we won't greet one another with a smile or a hug.  Or rather, she won't walk down to me and grab me for a hug.  She won't grab me as I'm going by for a hug.  I received a lot of prayer and  laughter and I gave what I had but, well, Satan won.  That is something to mourn.  My mom is right.  It's hard for people to be my friend.

And that's when I need help, when I'm on my own.  Some of the episodes of The West Wing are tear jerkers.  Some provoke anger.  Most leave me thinking about issues.  Any of them help me get to my feelings where I can easily get lost or leave behind.  But there are times, more often than not, when I'm able to identify AND feel my emotions when I watch it.  What a great blessing God has given.

Here's a clip from one of my favorite episodes, In Excelsis Deo from Season One.

Click on this link to be brought to You Tube for viewing

Feeling Sad and Feeling Mad

I feel so hurt that I can't let anyone near me.  Simply speaking to someone causes anger to well up.  It's really sadness, loss and betrayal mixed with lies, deceit and false love.  Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

Immaturity and putting on a false face of caring.
Not being integrated.
Pretending to be a friend while keeping score of my inadequacies.

I had no such game I was playing.

I'm not perfect, mind you, but I know what it feels like to be mistreated.
And yet I did not see or feel the signs.
Maybe I didn't want to.

This door will close a short chapter.
It will close painfully and permanently.
I lost two with this one.
The other by association.

No more.
No more pain.
No more sorrow.
No more new friendships.

I'll be lucky to keep the ones I have.

"Do not give up.  Get finished," God says,
"There's a lot more for you to do."

Hopefully it won't involve people.

Realization

This day, I've come to the conclusion that my existence is to be lived amongst the association of people already in my life.

My family, friends and small group.  I need to limit my exposure to new people especially those who are eager to be my friend.  Sandy could not handle my instability with mental illness, physical illness, grief over Aaron's death anniversary, she questioned and presumed my sexual preference and all the while used my gift of encouragement for her own benefit. 

I made the mistake of believing she actually cared about me, my concerns and enjoyed my spiritual gifts of writing and encouragement as I did hers.  I feel like apologizing for being a disruption to her sanity (based on what she said) but then again, had I been told all along, maybe this friendship could have been saved.

Maybe if I'd spoken up and was honest about more uncomfortable moments, maybe.....

But it makes no difference now. 

I have a hobby making bark art.  I finished hers last month with a cd (Extravagant Grace) to accompany it.  I painted words from a song and polyurethaned it.  I do this for many people.  It's beautiful.

What was I going to do with it?  I decided to make some changes and keep it for myself.  Afterall, I needed reminding of the Holy Spirit's presence, too. 

God reminded me that when a friendship ends it leaves room for a new beginning.  Mine is a spiritual one with the Holy Spirit.  What is yours?

Surprise Loss Of A Friendship

A year ago, I left my home church of 27 years.  A dear friend endorsed a small multiple location church whose senior pastor has a very strong gift in shepherding, meaning he cares for the attendees very much.  I decided to give it a try.

I liked it.  I needed prayer after my first visit so after the service he directed me to the prayer area.  I was blessed to have multiple people pray for my concerns which were quite heavy on my heart.  I continued going to prayer after the service then eventually felt lead to go to one certain person.  I'll call her Sandy.

Sandy's prayers were deep, personal and reflected her relationship with Christ.  I felt stronger even if I didn't feel "better" after we'd pray.  Around this past February, something changed.

Sandy said to me, after we prayed, "I want to be your friend."  I wasn't sure what she meant so I poked around for clarification.  I first asked why then I said I'd think about it.  I felt a little uneasy in my spirit because if you knew me, you'd know I don't let people in randomly.  I'm very guarded, protective and selective.  I wanted to see if this was of God or not.

When I talked to Sandy again, I followed up with why she wanted to be my friend and I noticed her response seemed genuinely heart centered.  I took a risk and said yes.

We continued praying together but then I noticed some of her behavior I recognized from my own past.  I accepted her as she was, loved her where she was and encouraged her during times of stress.  Since I am a writer, my words tend to be deep and sometimes can be misunderstood as being in love with someone rather than affectionate love toward someone.

We started getting together outside of church which was a shock to me.  I knew she had a busy schedule but she said she enjoyed being with me.  Quite a compliment.  We even went to the Memorial Day parade together, took a walk on a trail, met at her house a few times and I shared part of my book with her (a big step for me).

Not long ago, Sandy was going through a lot of stress.  I was writing as I write and I happened to touch on the Orlando Massacre and I touched on a part of my past where I was sexually mixed up.  I knew something was terribly wrong by her written reaction.  The friendship exploded and unraveled all at once.  I hadn't felt so hurt or misunderstood by her until that point.  It was just a matter of time before she put up so many walls of protection that never needed to go up.  Then it happened.

Eventually she apologized, mind you, all through email, but the damage was done.  I'd deleted her from my social media and other communications so that I couldn't get hurt anymore.  Yes, I'd forgiven her, but the damage was done.  There was no going back.  There couldn't be.  She sent a final email that said so.  Her boundaries left no room for me although I think it was supposed to look like they did so I pulled the plug all together.  I'm guessing but now she can be the good guy.

Essentially, she went from "I want to be your friend" to "I don't want you in my life."

The sadness I feel is the loss of someone I trusted, felt safe, she felt safe and she told her family about.  The anger I feel is neither one of us is perfect but I got all the blame.  I extended grace to her during her troublesome times yet she chose to believe something about me, instead of asking questions or having empathy.

I can't do what she wants to do which is to go back to "church only" interactions.  That's unrealistic and more painful than I want to put myself through.  Unfortunately, since our church is small and I'd see her each week, I need to find another church but stay with my small group.

What have I learned?

• Sometimes, loving people hurts but you don't stop loving people.
• You learn to identify safe people and make sure you are a safe person for someone else.
• Hurting people is not what God intended for relationships.  
• I need to decrease my expectations and increase my time alone.

                         Safe People - By Dr Cloud & Dr Townsend

Brave Bipolar Balance

Awareness of how you're feeling when you wake up.

Bold enough to tell yourself the truth.
Caring about someone other than yourself.
Doing a random act of kindness without being caught.
Estimating your medication so you don't run out.
Finding a support group that "gets" you.
Giving your talents to a non-profit organization.
Having the courage to say, "Ouch."
Ignoring negative people instead of punching them out.
Justifying your actions to those who know you.
Kindness attracts kindness.
Love those who are difficult to love because they are trying to love you.
Mania is possible to manage.
No one has the right to hurt you.
Open your eyes and see the beauty God created in you.
Play often and much with your friends.
Quietly meditate so your mind can be at peace for a little while.
Rest when you are weary.
Sunshine is good for depression.  Too much sleep exasperates it.
Trust can be broken but it can also be restored with forgiveness.
Understanding your illness helps you explain it to others.
Very carefully, let people in.
Wishing doesn't make it so.
Xtra time with God can fill those holes in your soul.
Yelling never solves anything.
Z-best thing for bipolar is education so go get some:  www.bphope.com

Pride and Insecurity

I'm listening (again) to Beth Moore's, "So Long Insecurity (You've Been A Bad Friend To Us)."

The part of the book that is capturing my heart is pride.  Did you know there are so many factors and life experiences that feed pride?  It's no wonder it roars like a lion in so many cases or crushes us like a bug in others.  My own story about pride is a sad one but Jesus is turning my mourning into dancing by bringing forth weapons of massive healing, not destruction.

Let me tell you that pride can destroy relationships in one fell swoop and take the joy out of fellowship.  Pride can often not be "taken back" once it slips out of your mouth nor can it be explained without seeing a therapist.  Pride has an unnatural way of cornering us and making us feel unable to move or resolve issues in healthy ways. This is my opinion, not Beth's.  I don't often quote people but I do recommend her book.

Pride and insecurity seem to go hand in hand for me.  Where pride is selfish and destructive to myself and others, insecurity is based on my interpretation of another's behavior.  When I feel hurt by someone else, I immediately look for a "blanket" to cover me up.  Sometimes it's food, self-injury in my mouth, distancing myself or isolating.  Sometimes the last two are good so that I can wrap my head around what happened and respond appropriately rather than emotionally.

I have no issue with people who are honest, apologize or in other ways take responsibility for what they've done.  Even if they take too much responsibility (which I will address) or if they feel they are not a good enough friend and this is too hard (which I will address), my own insecurity is triggered.  I have to take a time out to:

1. Identify the trigger
2. Was it intentional?
3. How am I feeling?
4. Is this friendship worth the work? (Determines how to proceed)
5. Talk to my therapist
6. Ask God to Reveal Options of Reconciliation
7. Talk to the person by voice (Typing can be misunderstood)
8. Listen, Listen, Listen
9. Ask Questions
10. Pray (Christians)

Let me close with my favorite poem, "Desiderata," which says:

May God bless you on your journey toward relational wholeness,

Amy

Being Single But Not A Lesbian

I met with my therapist and dumped everything that has been emotionally heavy for the past couple of weeks.  The main one being the death of my first counselor when I was fifteen years old.  I never thought about how I would feel or react to her death.  I must admit it's been quite a shock.

She was a "Christian" counselor who, according to my Mom, did a lot of damage.  My tendency is to not talk about it because it's painful and in the past.  The problem is that I'm being triggered by someone else's behavior so I have to get about the business of cleaning up the mess this counselor left behind otherwise I'll crawl into isolation and end up drinking alcohol to numb the pain.

She labeled me as gay at age 15.  At age 17 she told me this.  At age 22 I met a woman.  No wonder I ended up in the Lesbian community for 4 1/2 years.  I never once believed her.  In fact I verbally fought with her before and after I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior.  She had her reasons for believing I was; I had my reasons for believing I wasn't. I walked out of a session and never went back.  In fact, during that relationship, a man I was engaged to previously called to ask if I was seeing anyone.  I said yes and we both moved on.  I was as lost as lost could be.

But God had another plan.

By age 26, I was with my second partner who was a Christian.  She somehow got past Roman 1 and she intrigued me.  But then I was in a different community of women, still didn't feel it was right so this time I asked God to make it clear to me who I was in His eyes.  I needed a clear cut answer so that I would never waiver again or be tempted to fall back into that world.  You see, I felt safe, understood and loved.  Who would ever leave a place like that?  No one in their sane mind.

From June 17-June 24, 1994 God answered all of my prayers and pleadings.  Through Moody Radio and my church, He gave me the answer, "No, I did not create you to be a Lesbian."  I was sitting in my church's midweek service which happened to be Vision Night 1994, when I distinctly heard myself say in my head, "I can't serve God with my gifts if I stay in the gay community.  I have to get out of there!."

I decided not to tell my new found freedom from my partner until I talked with my new therapist.  I wanted to make sure I was on target.  The next day I walked into my new therapist's office, sat down and when she asked what was new I about jumped out of my skin and declared with juebuelence, "I'M NOT GAY!!"  She reeled me in and asked what had happened.  Sure enough, I was free.

From what?

• Hiding from God out of shame and guilt
• My family's disappointment and distancing from me
• No freedom of affection in public
• My insides never felt so good!

I know the Lesbian lifestyle isn't for me but it is for others.  I do not judge people who like motorcycles and I do not judge people who like guns.  To each his/her own.  I'm responsible for myself when I stand before my Maker and give an account for my choices in life.  More than anything else in the world, when Jesus comes up to me and tells God the Father, "Yes, I know Amy." I want him to say, "She let me help her during a very difficult time in her life to make the right choice even though it was not a popular choice."   

That's what my childlike ears long to hear.

Also, I'm committed to a life of abstinence and singleness until God brings the right man into my life.  And if no one comes along, I'll be happy and content on my own.  "It is not good for man to be alone."  He didn't say it wasn't good for woman to be alone.

The Voice of Lonely

Songs have been written about "Owners of a Lonely Heart" and "Who's Cryin' Now" but I doubt people who haven't been in a mental illness hospital as a nurse, mental health counselor, patient or visitor, people not working with trauma survivors and veterans or people helping the mentally ill everywhere they many be, have ever heard what I heard my first night at the Behavioral Health Hospital this last time, when I needed to go for a medication adjustment.

I was alone, waiting for my meds at the nurses station.  When the cry started, it caught me completely off guard.  We share a double door with the Acute Care Unit which is where I was going to stay that night, my first night, but a bed opened up on my unit.  I wondered how one could be so sad.  This beautifully sad cry echoed down the hall I was in.  I was captivated by it.  I sat in a chair, lowered my head and prayed.

So sad....so beautiful...so lonely...so in need of her Heavenly Father's blanket of peace, security, safety and His arms holding her tight, rocking her gently, collecting each tear in a bottle and whispering, "There, there my daughter, let it all out and don't be afraid.  Daddy's here and I'm never going to leave you."

Have you ever heard someone cry from a place in their soul that's so lonely it makes you sad?  I hadn't until the next day.  It was intensely emotional.  I shed tears every time I heard her pain-filled yet beautiful cry.  I closed my eyes and prayed again.

When you know the story of your Savior, Jesus Christ, you remember the anguish he carried on His shoulders and the cries of His heart as He wanted to complete the mission His Father asked Him to take on

It was early in my life as a new believer that my tears for His pain pierced my heart and stained my shirt.  There's a song titled, "I Will Never Be the Same Again."  That's right.  For those of us who have personalized Jesus taking the wreckage of our lives and blowing it away with the gentlest of air from his lungs, we (I) take his gift to heart and try to live the life I'm meant to live according to his plan and purpose.

Lonely?  I don't know if I'll ever hear her cry again in person.

God is good.

He shows up in acute 

mental illness hospitals and 

on the streets 

where most human beings 

do not want to stay alive.

Lonely's cry will forever echo in my body.

The sound of her lonely soul.

In my heart I hold her,

Praying over her,

Rocking her,

On God's behalf, 

Be at peace, Lonely.
Your Father in Heaven is watching over you.

Hearing Stuff That Isn't Real and Hospitalization

I find it interesting when people ask me what it's like hearing voices.  Do they talk to me, tell me to do things, etc.?  I find myself wanting to take back what I said and run to a safe place but it's already out there - exposed and vulnerable. Now, it's time to answer the question so some people aren't afraid (mainly, me).

No, the voices I hear are not commanding.  They never tell me to do any harm to anything or anybody.  The first time I hear something is the warning bell that I have to see my psychiatrist right away.

What I hear and the order it arrives is very important.  The more I have to contend with, the more difficult it is to manage.  Consequently, it leads to an episode which lands me in the hospital.  Therefore, emergency to get in to see my psychiatrist.  I forgot to tell him at our last visit the previous week.
WRITE IT DOWN!!

This is the order of what I heard in the last month prior to hospitalization:

1. A low radio interview with only words I cannot make out outside my body.
2. Loud megaphone voices inside my head.
3. Bad music.  Bad 60's and 70's no words.
4. Some eerie music but the notes are strung out long.
5. One gospel note.  I know it's gospel because of the image in my head.
6. Rap music
7. A loud shout:  "YOU WERE ABUSED!!"  (tell me something I don't know)

Most of the music continued when I was hospitalized.  Almost beat up a patient because I thought she said something to me.  Turns out it was my voices.  The next morning I initiated an apology, she apologized, too.  I asked if she said the sentence I heard then explained why I was there.  She was sympathetic and said she has a bad habit of overreacting.  

8th day of new medication 

5th day dosage increase

1st day with no voices (when hearing them for a month)

Isn't God good?  You bet He is!!

Grateful for a second chance at documenting my stuff better. Enjoy!

For My Psychiatrist

On Sunday
Scrambled eggs for a brain.
Voices faint and out of my head.
Flat affect.
Hiding in the house.
Laying on the couch, under a blanket, clutching a pillow to my chest.
Finished watching "The Return of the King."

Decide to get up to see if that helps.
Complete some household chores.
Start a pot of chili for a friend.
Bring out a piece of a tree to personalize.
Cook thin pork chops for protein.

Lay back down, under a blanket, clutching a pillow to my chest.
Start watching Law & Order Season 7.
Look at cat tree with strings hanging.
Get scissors and waste basket and start trimming.
Episode is a young guy with schizophrenia.

As episode is playing and I am trimming, I start talking.
I am talking back to the episode.
I am interjecting my thoughts, my warnings, my experience.
I am sharing this with a tv character.
I am fervent in what I am saying.

I become more vocal.
My voice becomes loud.
My front door is shut and I am glad because no one can hear me.
My voices are participating.
They have joined in to help educate this young man just like they helped me.

That's why they mustn't leave.
My voices are safe.
They've helped me survive horrific abuse just like my
Split off personality, Erik, when I was 8.
How do I keep them and live with them?

I hid in my house.
Then I went into my shed.
It needed to be organized side to side so that's what I did.
It took a long time to think through what to do first then next and so on.
My scrambled eggs brain couldn't concentrate.
But eventually, I accomplished what I set out to do.

Schizophrenia and Split Personality.
Just two of the many forms of mental illness I deal with.
When the medications can't manage the neurotransmitters right,
CRASH!
And that's what's been slowly happening until yesterday when my head hit the pavement (a metaphor) and my serotonin and other neurotransmitters scattered onto the little dirt road that people seldom travel.

That little dirt road is located inside my brain.
Few people are invited in and even then, fewer stay.
I am prayerfully selective on who is extended an invitation.
It's my home, my safe place, a familiar place, God's provision.
It has everything I need to sustain the life God wants me to have.
But every now and then, it needs a tune-up.

And that's when I see my psychiatrist.
Especially when I've crashed.
It would be ideal if it was before and I did see him before.
It's just that the new medication didn't work and perhaps made it worse.
He doesn't like the voices because they distract me.

At least I wasn't suicidal.

For My Therapist

My brain is crashing.
It started yesterday, into my sleep time and all day today.
My mind is starting and stopping then pausing for minutes.
I canceled going to church, canceled time with Catherine and only sent one message for a possible book meeting on Tuesday evening.

My fear is someone is listening to me as I talk back to an episode of Law & Order.  I feel the paranoia rising up into my brain chemicals.  I'm not laying down on the couch.  I am busying myself by giving the cat tree a trim.  I'm taking all of my medications.

I started hearing voices again maybe a week ago.  I found out last night that Valerie Caudhill passed away.  I was sad because I didn't get to say good-bye.  I found out on Facebook when I was checking my friends' list and deciding whether or not to clean house.  That's when I noticed there was no picture next to her name.  I know you couldn't tell me.

Then I have a friend who stopped talking to me.  Just stopped.  No explanation, no nothing.  After thinking about it for awhile I might have figured it out.  I don't know.  I got this weird message from a number without a name.  Three words.  If that was her, what does that mean?  I mean I know what it means but it doesn't explain anything.  I dunno.  Another grief not understood.

So I'm keeping myself busy but it hasn't helped.  All I think about is this brain disease and how much I hate it.  I can't be around people right now, I don't want to talk to anyone, my eyes get fixed on objects, I'm not going to respond to messages and all I want to do is be with myself and the voices and everything will be okay.

(Inner Child:  I don't want to go to small group and I want to return the money recent people have given to me.  I'm not a charity case even if I can't function like everybody else all the time.  These voices are my friends.  Don't take them away.)

I'll call Dr. Didenko tomorrow for an appointment this week.

Hanging On

I struggled to wake up this morning after a vivid dream.
The only thing I remember is the number 240.50.
I had a pulsating migraine but once I got out of bed it dissipated.
After a shower, it was completely gone.

Depression is heavy in my mind.
I'm focusing on my book, the abuse chapters and the content.
How detailed do I get?
How do I protect people's identity?

Do I say, Dad, uncle, neighbor, male and female perpetrators totaling six?
Do I talk about the repercussions like hair pulling, bed wetting, splitting off into another personality, protecting my mom and siblings, burying my own feelings and later cutting, drinking and mental illness?
What about the rage I feel inside so many decades later?
Where does that fit in?

There's so much more.  How do I choose?
I hate my mental disorders.
I really do.
I feel like punishing myself.
But that won't fix anything.

Access To My Feelings, etc.

I had to push away the feelings to disappear.
They came out of feeling scared and maybe even anger.
I could feel the surge of emotions well up inside of me.
I started to drive away from home when I heard it.

The voice.

The Holy Spirit said, "Amy, all you have to do is turn around."
"Turn around and watch a three hour movie."
"You don't have to talk to anyone."
"You don't have to do anything."
"You can curl up on the couch under your blanket."
"You'll be safe."

I decided to drive a little ways to a safe destination.
I drove around slowly, taking in what I saw.
I was surprised by some of it.
The rest of it was clearly familiar.
Then I drove home.

I completed an outdoor task that brought up feelings of anger.
Someone else deciding what was right.
Someone else not doing what I asked.
I decided I would do it myself.
I have the right to take away someone else's service.

When I finished outside, I sat inside and watched a movie.
I didn't call my therapist or a friend or a family member.
My disorders are my own and I can get through them on my own.
Besides, they don't always know what to do.
That's okay because I know what to do.

As I was watching the movie I started hearing voices,
The radio ones where I can't make out what's being said.
Since this has happened half a dozen times, I should call my psychiatrist.
But since it's happened half a dozen times and I haven't flipped out, well,
I'll call next week when I have enough gas.

Besides, I know what and how much I can handle of my mood disorders, schizophrenia, bipolar depression and other mental illnesses I have .

I'm the one with 100% access and knowledge inside of me.
I get to decide who gets how much and when.
No one else will ever have complete access.
Why?
Because I'm still discovering things about my past, I'm still in therapy to talk about whatever needs talking about and I don't trust people easily.

This is a great short video on Bipolar.  They have some awesome videos.  I watched many of them.

Writing for God

I awoke with a heavy heart this morning knowing next week I meet with my merry group of women.  We'll be sorting through all of my writing over the last six years, categorizing it into topical groups so that I can bring it before the Lord and ask if the book should be written in topical chapters chronologically or chronologically by topic.  I wrestle with this decision.

I struggle to write about topics that still cause pain to surface.  I've talked about them before but having someone else learn about them is scary and exposing.  I may need to have a friend or my therapist sit with me as I write down those experiences.

The hope part is rather easy and I look forward to it.  There has been so much healing and insight from such pain and abuse one would think I would have emerged a bitter person but I did not.  God guarded my spirit from ever becoming like theirs and for that, I am very grateful.

Writing a book God asks you to write can be stressful when you forget He's going to be there to lead and guide you all the way.  That's what I keep forgetting.  It wasn't my idea to write it.  I just asked the question.  He was the one who gave the answer.

God the Father, Jesus His Son and the Holy Spirit are the leaders, providers, teachers and guardians of my life.  They have my back when Satan casts a net over my brain and I can't think or write or read the Bible or stumble when I talk or keep my balance or have migraines or nightmares or suicidal thoughts or self-injure.  But my Heavenly Realm reminds me of their presence, their Guardian of Angels, my ability to keep myself safe, the many phone numbers I can call, the godly therapist I've been given, my psychiatrist who will bend over backwards to get me into the hospital and all the ladies who would help if I ask for it, my family who would come running and I am capable, even when I'm feeling incapable, of taking care of myself.

I know I need a few Sams in my life.  I've been blessed to have three of the most godly women I know befriend me when least expected:  Marie, Laurie and Catherine.  And then I have my Pippins and Marys who are pure delights, like the three before, and they are Jennifer, Saundra, Michelle, Donna, Merrilyn, Kim, my small group, my family and a host of others too many to mention.

My Sams are warriors even if they don't see themselves that way.  They cast out demons, pray for protection, read about my past and put a knife into the enemy all the while holding my inner child who is afraid she has lost what she's been fighting for all along on her journey.  But she hasn't.

It's like in the Fellowship of the Ring -  The Return of the King when Frodo needs Sam's help to complete the task set before him that only he can complete.  I recognize that my book will not save middle earth like in this scene but you never know...for someone suffering from the effects of abuse, it just might.

You see, Sam has now become a fierce warrior and no one or nothing is going to stand in the way of him getting to his friend, Frodo.  But when he gets there and pulls the ring out of his pocket to show Frodo he had it for safe keeping, he listens to Frodo about giving him the ring.  Did you notice Sam's hesitation in giving it to Frodo?  Did you notice Frodo's response?

 - Frodo asked Sam to give him back the ring.

 - Sam did not want to but not for the reason Frodo thought.
 - Frodo thought Sam wanted to keep it for himself.

 - Sam was staring at the skin around Frodo's neck from carrying the ring.

 - Sam knew what wearing the ring was doing to Frodo and still, he gave it back to him.

 - And Sam was right.  Frodo became instantly weak with the burden he knew was his alone to carry.

Sometimes, not often, God asks us to carry a burden that no one else can really understand unless they've experienced it and even then, it can feel lonesome.  Fortunately, it's not very often. Even Jesus had John and His mother with him at the cross.  Others came but the ones He loved the most and who loved Him were there to share the burden and agony of pain and sorrow of death with Him.

They cried at the sight of Him, they cried at the tears He cried, they cried when He cried out in pain, they cried when He called out to His father and they cried when He cried His very last tear.

That's whose pain I carry in my heart.  The One who was asked to carry a burden on my behalf, to suffer on my behalf, to bleed on my behalf, to be separated from those He loved on my behalf, to be beaten until almost dead on my behalf, to hang as a common criminal on my behalf, to pardon a guilty criminal on my behalf, to forgive me on my behalf, to die on my behalf, to rise on my behalf and to start the church on my behalf.

That's why this book is being written.

On His behalf.

When God Gives An Assignment

I'm working on a project for someone in our small group.  It's a privilege to use my gifts and talents to brighten a gloomy place in the life of someone I care about.  That's when I started thinking about it.

God has never given me an assignment then abandoned me to do it by myself.  It's not in His nature.  He stays available to help, advise, show and bring others to assist every time I ask Him.  Many times I'm so perplexed I don't know what words to say to get what I need.  That's when I remember Jesus and the Holy Spirit are praying for me when I can't figure it out.

I've added a dear friend to, from time to time, look at the structure and some of the content format of how I'm writing my book.  She is someone who can pray specifically (or ask Jesus) for guidance as I write.

There are parts of my story I don't want to write.  I feel physically sick when I see the words then I quickly turn the pages for what seems an eternity.  Those will be hard.

But then there's hope.  Hope in healing, hope in memories no longer controlling your thoughts, hope of friends who truly love you whom you don't have to put through a test, hope for the end of addictions and self-injury, hope for mental illness to be correctly diagnosed and medicated, hope for a sound and well-balanced therapist and hope for a brighter future.

I will be writing about that, too.

I snuck this same friend an index card that reads:  God will never let you go.

Those are for the times when lies get into our thoughts and we need to be reminded how valuable we are to God.  After all, He created us in His image.  He gave us gifts and talents.  He wants to have a personal relationship with us through His Son, Jesus.

It doesn't get any better than that no matter how much abuse I survived by how many people who perpetrated it for how many years it lasted

God never stopped loving me,
He always will see me as valuable.
He sees you that way, too!

As Long As I Remember, He'll Always Be Here

I met with my therapist yesterday.  I still felt numb but over the years I've learned the value of keeping therapy appointments and not canceling them.  I would cancel them because the numbness I was feeling would suddenly burst forth at the thought of sitting in an office, door shut, their eyes on me, waiting for me to say something.

I've faked illness to avoid showing sadness because I couldn't stop crying
I've faked illness to avoid showing fear because at that time I didn't have the tools to bring myself to a safe person or apply the tools to keep myself safe.
I've walked out of therapy sessions when I've felt overwhelmed or my thoughts are racing and I can't get control of them.
I've walked out of therapy sessions when I feel hurt by something she says and instead of talking to her, she just keeps on talking so I tell her I'm leaving.  Then I take a break, cancel all future appointments and remind myself that I am in control of who and how often I see them.

I no longer fake my illness.
I no longer walk out of sessions.
I search inside myself when asked a question.
I talk about my hurts for as long as need to.

I speak up if there's a misunderstanding.
I listen to new ideas and exercises.
I make sure I am kind when in distress.
I bring anything I've worked on, like this blog.

It was hard to talk but I drove to therapy.  I was asked how I was feeling - sad.  Then I talked about the gift I received on Sunday. Sunday I was able to tell the entire story of the last week with Aaron plus all the other details. to my friend.  I hadn't done that in a long, long time if ever. Yesterday, I was having the feelings of sadness and tender.  For myself, my family and Aaron's family.

I remember Aaron in two sets of clothes that week:
Same person, different clothes.
One in a hospital gown, his Spirit and body are here.
One in a hospital gown, his Spirit is gone, his body is here.
One in a long sleeve black shirt, black pants and neon green neck tie.
His Spirit gone but his body is here.
He was cremated.
His Spirit gone, his body now ashes, the two urns at each parents home.

My Aaron.
My tall and strong,
Bright blue eyes,
Running at me for hugs,
Creative ingenuity (exploding plastic pop bottles),
Helper to Tina, Grandma and the Aunties (Amy & Tracy),
Monopoly player with me and his brothers,
Horror movies,
Trying to rebuild a TransAm with Dad,
Going to 4-H with the family,
Loving his mom,
Taking girlfriend Alex to all dances,
Wrestling with oldest brother, Joe
Walking the neighborhood with younger brother, Jonny,
Bouncing on trampoline with youngest brother, Ryan,
Hunting for eggs on Easter 2008 with sisters Hope, Sammi and Alicia.

Still Grieving Aaron

I've wanted to tell her about Aaron since last week but I believed an old lie from another time in my life.  I decided, if she had the time, I would tell her.  Turns out she did.

After listening to me tell her the entire week of Aaron in the hospital six years ago, God prompting me to baptize him, being asked to sit with him by his mom until it was time for him to die, announcing to Aaron's mom and dad that it was time, sitting in the room with his parents, brother and other aunts and uncles when he passed away, the details of the funeral and the days that followed, I shared that I've never cried.

Not when placed my hands on his forehead and heart the first night.
Not when I found out his death was eminent.
Not when I baptized him.
Not when I sat in his room and people asked how he was.
Not when we surrounded him and he died.
Not at the funeral.
Not when I was alone at home.
Not on any of the anniversaries.
I haven't cried.

It was a long story.  Instead of saying something quickly and rushing off, she took my hands in hers and we were eyeball to eyeball.  She said, "Maybe you don't need to grieve so much because you brought him into restoration with God.  God gave you that assignment and the one to sit in his room, watching over him, then getting everyone when his heartbeat started going down.  You were able to hear the Holy Spirit and do what was being asked of you."

I never think of obedience as a reason for God removing pain.

I still might be blocking some grief because I sink into a deep depression a few days before that week begins and days after.  Truth be told, I'm still in it.  Sleeping a lot.  Saw my psych and he made an adjustment.  He was trying to get me to laugh but I wasn't finding anything funny.  I wasn't angry - just not in a funny mood.

This is the t-shirt I made while the Alateens were at the hospital.  Like I said before, I needed to be with my own people.

Thanks for listening.

My Writings and Some Videos of Aaron Michael Hunt

When someone you loved dies, it's hard to move forward with preparations for the final day you will ever see them again.  These are the words I penned for those experiences plus the days and years that followed.


Click to read: The Days After Aaron's Death


Click to read: Aaron's Death by 2015


Click to read: Aaron's Anniversary Years


Aaron Michael Hunt Put To Rest

Being Numb On Aaron's Final Day of Life

If ever there was a day to be teary and sad with no ability to see,
That day would be this day, because six years ago tonight Aaron died and all he left us was an empty shell of his body.

It was a long and quiet day, it did not go like it was supposed,
For Aaron was wheeled down to donate his organs but he did not die...
No, he did not die like he was supposed to.

They brought him back to his room, did not reconnect the ventilator,
His heart beat strong, his blood flowed throughout his body, his brain was dead.
His mom asked me to stay with him and to come get her when it starts.

Hour after
Hour after
Hour after
Hour.
His heart beat for almost twelve more hours and then it started to be like it was supposed to be.

A steady 125 beats.
Then 122.
Then 121.
Then 118.
And down it kept going.  I went and got everyone.

I kept watching it because soon it would happen.
The 90's.
The 80's.
The 70's.
The 60's.
He was prepared through everyone who had spoken to him all five days.

His heart rate kept going down.
The 50's.
The 40's.
The 30's.
The 20's.
The finality of his life was almost here.

I watched until the end.
The 10's.
Then the nurse turned off the volume before it reached 0.
Grace.

Aaron was gone.
His heart stopped, his blood stopped, his brain eased, he wasn't with us anymore.
By God's grace, He's in Heaven.
Everyone was crying, crying loudly.
I did not feel sadness - I felt nothing.
I felt numb.  I talked to my therapist and that didn't surprise her.
I sat there with the others, asking God what I could do.
"Just be silent and don't move until I tell you to."
I wanted to flee.

There's was nothing more to do.
Aaron would never come back to us.
That much I knew was true.
I stayed with his parents until the very end.
I made sure they were able to drive home.
Aaron, no longer alive, his body stayed in that room until it was brought to the funeral home.
I'd have one final good-bye.
All of us would.

The fifth and final day of Aaron's life:  Aaron's Final Day

The Fellowship of Abuse

The Fellowship of Abuse starts with one person - the one who has been abused. The secret of the abuse is hidden where no one can find it - deep inside their spirit where no one is allowed to go.  Only the secret holder knows it's there.  But soon, everyone will see and hear the shadow that lurks inside.  For the abuse has to recover and the only way to recover is to expose the ugliness that looms inside.

The Abused One survives abuse many cannot see.  In the hand of the Abuser, the Abused One is hit and bruised and shoved against walls and sexually bound to the Abuser.  I wouldn't say it if it were not so.  The Abused One is not allowed to cry or express emotions but the rage wells up.  Even then, thoughts of murder take over the Abused One's mind and the days are counted when that can become a reality.

There are so many opinions about how to heal from childhood abuse.  I (Abused One) have learned to use several of them in different lands of recovery.  Some sound a bit odd, some sound like they came from the wizards of old, some originated from the Bible, some are from the ancient ruins and some I've discovered along my journey walking on the side of the road.

What looked like a weed transformed my troubled self into someone who could continue walking no matter how slow the pace or how muddy the path.  The cloak that covered me from danger also kept me warm when the sun hid behind the clouds.  The Elven bread that had no taste at all gave my body nourishment.

And I think well meaning folk forget that sort of thing.  My recovery began early - age 14.  I gave my life to Jesus - age 20.  I attempted suicide and ended up in the hospital several times, I was in three different inpatient and outpatient hospitals, I've had six therapists and three psychiatrists (the last therapist and psychiatrist for over three years).  I self-injure but I don't cut anymore, I'll have 7  years of sobriety in July, I've had two major back surgeries, my highest weight was 247 and now it's 222, I've lost 10 pounds since changing my meds and what I eat.

It's not easy to be or become my friend.  It's not easy to stay my friend.  My mom puts it this way, "It's hard to be Amy's friend because of all she goes through."  Mental Illness is not easy.  What I have is beyond challenging.  I don't talk easily and when I do I usually shake.  I like to live alone with my cats.  I take my direction from God and only consider other things from people I trust.  Even then it's a maybe.  One friend said, "You suffer in silence, don't you?"  Yes I do and I prefer it stay that way.

The people at inpatient are my people.
We understand each other on a deep and personal level that doesn't require many words.
We love Jello.
We participate in Groups.
There's a level of acceptance.

If I were feeling sad and drifted into oncoming traffic and died, they'd understand.  Sometimes, you just get tired of life.  But since I haven't done that or any other wacko ideas, I'd have to say when God said to me, "Amy, it's not time for you to come home yet," I believed Him.

He's my Heavenly Father.
He's the one I trust the most.
He has my whole heart.

He's never been one of my Abusers.

This is Aaron's fourth day:  Day 4 of Aaron's Death

The Book and the Couch

I was so drained yesterday all I could do physically was very minimal.  I thought I'd be able to work on small projects but my body was tired beyond belief.  All I could do is rest and watch episodes of Marvels Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. - Season 1.

I think the depression, sadness and fear I felt about Aaron dying is still with me.  I know I get very emotional these five days.  I'm going to see my therapist.  Maybe that will help.

I sent out the updates and prayer requests for the book.  At least I was able to get that done in the afternoon.

Day three of Aaron in the hospital:  Click Here For Day Three of Aaron

Taking Care of Myself

Yesterday and today I woke up filled with stress, wanting to isolate, grief and nervousness.  Yesterday I did not want to go to small group though I love each woman in our group.  I went out of obedience.  I was able to pay for this session myself, something I was very proud of, so I didn't want to waste God's money by not attending.

Last night was our first book meeting.  I was so glad I had forethought to write out an agenda.  It kept us right on track for discussion, tasking and finishing on time.  It was the part of the day I was most nervous about.  Even though these women have been part of my past or I knew of them but didn't really know them until now, listening to them express how they personally felt about what they were reading was very valuable and insightful.  None of them seemed overcome by sadness yet they felt sad.  They were not overcome with surprise but they were surprised.  They did not know parts of my past or current coping behaviors though they know me.  They knew I was abused as a child but not how early or for how long.

By the end of the 90 minutes, I was exhausted.  I saw all of my writing in these ladies hands:  All my sharing, all my tears, all the abuse, all the self-abuse, all the coping skills learned over time, all the healing, all the death, all the God moments and so much more.  Today is a day for isolation.  When I feel what I was feeling above, I watch a couple of episodes of something on Netflix then I either rest my body, do some writing or work on a project.  Yesterday I rested my body after small group.  Today I work on projects.

God has a way of restoring my mind and body when I am in solitude.  There's no noise except for the traffic outside.  The sound of a ticking clock.  The movement of the cats.  The garbage truck going by.  Nothing but quiet for my weary soul to find restoration in His presence.

On Sunday, I blew off prayer at church because I believed a lie that I wasn't important enough for someone to stay longer and pray for me.  I was really looking forward to it and brought pictures of Aaron with me.  I went home mad at myself for believing that lie but reconciled it yesterday.  I talked about my behavior in small group.  How I told myself this lie - it wasn't Satan influencing me (sometimes I think He gets too much credit).  When small group was over, my dear friend Ann sat down next to me and listened to me talk about Aaron (through tears) and my nervousness about the book meeting.  At the end, she yelled, "You're the boss, Amy!  You're the boss!"  It was at that moment that I remembered I had leadership gifts, this was my book (and God's) and as long as I stay in tune with Him, my goal of being published in one year will happen.

That's what I told my Merry Group of Women last night.
I want to be published in one year:  04-16-17 (In honor of Aaron)
That's how we'll be marching from here on out.

Subject to change.

The second day of Aaron in the hospital.  Click Here for Aaron's Second Day

Forgiveness and the Beginning of Aaron's Death

Heavenly Father,

I feel like I had a break through as I was praying and climbing into bed last night.  The woman who broke my heart so many years ago has not received what my Dad, Mom and abusers have received in all my years of recovery.

That's my forgiveness.

I have allowed her hurtful behavior to negatively influence my emotions when it comes to rekindling old relationships or firing up new ones.  I've been giving her the power to snuff out safe relationships or try to extinguish merciful ones.  She's had too much control in this area of my life.  It's time to let her go.

"Name, when our friendship first began, I was so thrilled that you would take interest in me.  As we grew closer and you became my most trusted friend, I never thought our friendship would end.  You held me when I cried for minutes at a time, we laughed at stuff we had in common and you trusted me with your kids when you went out.  But one night, you asked to use my car and I could use yours.  I knew what was happening.  Soon after you asked me to breakfast and you dropped a bomb.  The shrapnel ripped into my flesh above and below the surface.  I was in shock.  You acted like everything was okay but you never looked back to see the shattered spirit you created.  Everything was not okay.

Since that day, I vowed to never let anyone get that close to me again.  That lasted just over ten years.  I still don't trust easily, especially when it comes to crying in front of someone, but that's not only because of you.  The anger, rage, unfairness and selfishness of what you did cut deep.  It's been effecting other relationships I want to be real in and I can't allow you to remain a part of me.

Even though I don't understand, God told me last night that I needed to forgive you just like I forgave my Dad and other abusers.  Maybe I do understand.  The best way to have closure with your abusive act is to forgive it.  Well, that's what I'm going to do.  I know it will be a process but I'm committed to do it.  Quite frankly, you never deserved me as a friend - I was only 17 and impressionable.  As an adult, I can say good-bye and welcome the healthy godly people He is bringing to me.

I forgive you and I pray you have a relationship with Jesus."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

6 Years This Week - Today is Day One for Aaron's Journey to Heaven:

A phone call from my mom around 7 pm.  "Amy, you need to get to NIMC as quickly as possible.  Something has happened to Aaron and we don't know if he's going to make it."

I have the gift of intercessory prayer.  I went back to where he was.  I was alone.  I placed my right hand on his forehead and my left hand on his heart.  I closed my eyes to see if he was there.  Nothing.  The ventilator was keeping him alive.

I walked out to talk to my sister.  She looked at me and I shook my head no.

The week was just beginning.

For a better description of events, Click Here April 12, 2015

Past Pain vs. Current Courage

I had a dream last night where in a past blog I shared about it.  Since this dream caused a stirring of sad emotions and questions where answers were never found, I think it's wise to write it down and perhaps gain insight into my pain.

She and her husband started out as our Alateen sponsors.  She brought wisdom, humor and a hug whenever we needed it.  I believe I was sixteen at the time.  My mom gave me her car so I was free to travel.  This sponsor and I became friends outside of group meetings.  I'm not sure that was a good idea.

I was only two years into recovery.  I was in counseling, in school, working part-time and going to Alateen once a week.  I was pretty busy.  I had a great group of friends in High School.  Even one who befriended me and listened to my growing up story (not all the details because I didn't know about them).

Nevertheless, this sponsor helped me transition into Al-Anon when I was seventeen.  I remember attending this meeting every Friday morning and meeting some of the most spiritual women I'd ever known.  I learned about meditation, more about a Higher Power and then I became friends with my Alateen sponsor and other ladies.  I felt accepted and loved.

She invited me to her house.  I would babysit her two younger boys and just keep an eye on her two older children.  After awhile, I became one of the family.  Many fun things happened.  Many emotional times happened.  She would hold me for a long time while I cried.  She was safe.  I even stayed with she and her family for three weeks while my family went on a vacation I did not wish to go on.

She and I grew very close.  When I was going through something, she hugged me and whispered she loved me like a daughter. This surprised me because she already had a daughter.  And then a weird thing happened.  Her dad died and her husband wouldn't let me see her.  Why not?  When can I see her?

She invited me for breakfast one morning.  She picked me up and we went to a small restaurant in my town.  Her words were not only shocking but there was no validity to them and they cut into my heart like nothing I'd ever felt before.  She told me she had to end our friendship because I was stepping into her shoes.  She talked about other stuff that made no sense except she blamed me for everything.  She asked if I understood.  My head was already bent down so I nodded yes.  She got up, paid the bill and dropped me off at home.

I ran into the house, at age 17, and burst into the saddest tears I'd ever cried.  My mom immediately asked what happened and I told her.  I don't think it was much later and I don't think this person asked me to do this but I had her house key.  I felt obliged to return it not throw it away.  I drove over there, walked into the house like I usually did, was greeted with hello's from everyone, did not look in their direction, slammed the key onto the counter and walked out.  I walked out and never walked back in again.

After telling my mom what happened, I later learned she confronted his woman quite harshly.  She told her to stay away from me and to never talk to me again.  After telling my counselor (who knew this woman), she did the same thing. "Don't ever talk to Amy again.  Do you have any idea how much damage you've done to this child?  You're an adult!  Act like one!"  It made me feel good, like I had a posse looking out for me.

The dream I had last night revealed all of it.  I know why I had it.  There's a woman who, when I began attending our church, would join in and pray for me.  The tenderness and sweetness of her voice and the way she held my hands caused those same feelings of safety to surface.  A woman from my small group then this other woman would join us each week.  The feelings of safety continued.  But then something happened.

She invited me into her home to talk.  Some weeks later, she said she wanted to be my friend.  I felt self-conscious when she asked me but I did it and I survived.  Asking her the same question took courage because I don't do one way friendships.

I still have problems feeling worthy of someone else's time, even if they are my friend, because I doubt what's troubling me is as important or equal to someone else's troubles.  My friends' ministry at church is prayer.  Now that we're friends, I can send her an email or text message if something's going on.  So, do I still have prayer with her?  This is my struggle.

Many times, if she's engaged with someone else after church, I opt to leave especially if their exchange looks tender.  I use the above rationalization to prevent myself from getting hurt.  Do I want her to pray over me?  Of course.  Am I more afraid of hearing, "I don't have anymore time or something else?", absolutely.  There's no surprise - it all takes place in my mind.

I guess what it boils down to is am I willing to surrender my mind to God and allow Him to lead me or am I going to stay locked up in fear, in my emotions, which usually have no foundation in truth?  What am I willing to risk in this new friendship?  That's a question I cannot answer at this time.