The Same Only Different

This morning I woke up at 5:30 and I felt it. It was back. Depression for me seems to always be lurking in the shadows. Sometimes I am unaware of its presence. Other times it's as obvious as the sun in my eyes.

I was wondering what to do. Quite frankly different coping skills work for different types of depression. Today I was going to have to focus on being out of the house because my car had to be brought in for a repair. So I packed up my briefcase with things to do because it was going to take at least 1 to 2 hours but I didn't mind. It gave me time to chill out, reread the last few days in my blog and try to get in touch with what I was feeling.

I've mentioned in past blogs that my worst months are February and April. The feelings I was experiencing were directly connected to the death of a friend eight years ago this coming February. One of  the ways I cope with sadness is through pictures. I take a lot of pictures. I have tons of pictures of my family and my kitties. I have pictures of vacations and mission trips and some of our parks near to where I live. But today I knew I needed to take some harder pictures. Ones that will help me work through the sadness and shock of her death.

It was a snowy black ice morning when you're driving skills really need to be honed in without any distraction. I was at work when my youngest sister called and asked if I knew where our other sister was. I said no I didn't know where she was and then my sister said the following: "Cathy died in a car accident this morning. I'm on my way out there now." Our sister's husband went to find our sister. I asked about Cathy's son Jimmy but my sister didn't have any information at that time. We were all now on a heightened state of alert.

I was fortunate to work for a ministry where family comes first so I left my job immediately following that phone call. I was familiar with the road where the accident took place but I was not prepared for what I learned and what I saw.

Cathy was driving when she hit a sheet of black ice the car flipped a couple of times and came to a stop upside down just missing a telephone pole. A woman who had just dropped her daughter off at school was in the lane heading toward Cathy and saw the car get out of control and flip. There was a pastor who lived in the house near the accident scene.  He and the female driver rushed over to where Cathy lay. She was still in the car with her seat belt on.

The woman could hear Cathy's quiet moans so she put her hand through the windshield and held onto Cathy.  And then Cathy went home to be with the Lord.  

On that day of that terrible car accident, I went to the accident scene before going to my sister's.  It's like I needed proof that Cathy was gone, there really had been a terrible accident and what I saw confirmed it. I don't know if you've ever come across a car accident where the debris is scattered in a field and in the ditch and on the road and near the telephone pole and near the fence. Windshield wiper, her coffee punch card, her insurance card, pieces of plastic from the car, coins, some kind of foam, earrings, screws and metal pieces – that's what was left. And I remember it vividly.

I took some of those things, the little pieces of foam and a piece of plastic, a quarter and a nickel and her coffee card. I thought that if I had a little piece of her in a memory box then the pain wouldn't be so bad. I'm sitting here looking at it now along with a photo of my sister's wedding where Cathy was her matron of honor and my other sister and I are standing with her.

She was my sisters best friend and yet she and I had a special bond because of things that happened to us when we were growing up. Often times when there was a family function Cathy and I would always end up in the kitchen or outside checking in with each other to see how each other is doing. How's counseling? How are your medications? How are your memories or flashbacks? How are you helping yourself? What are you doing that works? What's your latest diagnosis? How are they treating it? What does your psychiatrist say? We had a bond.  I have her Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous with her notes and highlights.

It's been a few years since I've stopped at the accident site. I drive past it quite a bit because my sister and her family live up in that area. But today – today I wanted documentation. I want documentation that the accident that took her life really did take place. But there were no more car pieces, the fence had been repaired and the acrylic cross that Cathy's sister had mounted was gone. It was like it never happened and yet I know it did. Because Cathy is no longer with us except in pictures. In fact I have a picture of her at my 40th birthday and she gave me forty things. I could see her gathering up these things from around her house and having so much joy throwing them all into a bag and giving them to me. It was so her. I miss her.

I don't know why I didn't take pictures when the accident happened but my suspicion is that technology may not have been as advanced as it is now. I do have pictures of the cross. And I do have some pictures of her that make me smile. So maybe the pictures that I took today represent healing instead of sadness. The white snow is no longer littered with chunks and pieces of her car. The ditch and the gravel beside the road no longer have drag marks from her car being put up onto a towing flatbed. There was a piece of black plastic today over where some of the car parts used to be and I wonder if that meant that the only thing that remains of this site are my memories. 

I have no real emotional connection to the site. I had an emotional connection to Cathy.  But my memories of Cathy are not at the crash site where she passed away. My memories of Cathy are in different houses, different celebrations and different conversations.

Maybe God is giving me real healing. Because when I woke up this morning I felt so sad and heavy hearted that I felt like crying going out to where she died. But now that I went there, took pictures and got through those emotions, I feel at peace. And I know that's what Cathy would want me to feel...

Peace beyond understanding.

 

Dear Amy

(A letter from God)

You have been on a very long journey in dealing with depression.  I know how weary you get and I know the pull to feel alone in it is very strong.  I'm not at all surprised it has returned.

I'm not surprised because of the intense dreams you've been having.  I know you don't remember them visually but your body remembers.  That's why you want to clutch to Me, your small group, your family and your friends.

But you aren't clutching to them like someone who has no hope or isn't experiencing healing.  You are clutching because walking this road by yourself is still scary.  Not impossible but scary.

Your book, your story, is one step closer to being started.  Even with all you've written in your blogs you're still going to have to fill in the gaps.  The gaps are what separate you from everyone else who writes on these topics.  The gaps are what's going to draw people toward Me.

Amy, your depression fills a purpose.  Not to make you miserable but to draw you closer to Me and to others.  You don't have to go through this alone.  If you think about it, scripture is breathed into you and those who preceded you had struggles, too.

Even people you consider great teachers have struggled and still struggle with things.  You're not alone in this calling.  I use the brokenhearted and call them according to their purpose.

What did Faith say to you the other day?  "You are definitely called."  Yes, you are.

Now go get into my Word and rest in the truth and wisdom of what it says.  Remember, I wrote my instruction manual in words of love, even if it sounds harsh.  I want you to grow and I want you to go and write the book.

I'll be with you, my child.
I will always be with you.
Your loving Father,
Abba God

Asking for What You Need

Yesterday, Sunday, was church day.  But not just any church day.  It was the day I was going to follow through with a week long request on my heart.  I was going to ask someone specific to pray over me.

When I first met her I was pretty broken and under a lot of stress.  She prayed over me as part of a group of warriors.  I didn't think much of it until each time we saw each other, she remembered my name.

I have a name.  I have my own identity in Christ.  I have my own spiritual gifts, my own interpretation of things and my own needs that want to be filled.  But it's up to me to ask for help.

I did that yesterday.  I waited patiently as she prayed with others.  I kept my distance to give them privacy.  And then it was my turn.

She took my hands in hers in a way that wasn't possessive but warm and safe.  She asked what was going on and as I was shaking, I began to tell her.  I wanted to scream, "I'm not crazy but I feel crazy."  I didn't need to.  Her eyes said it all.  And then she prayed.

 - Satan is making noise in my head and that's all he can do is clang pots and pans together.
 - God sends his angels.  She told me about her mother's angel and then focused on my shaking.
 - "Breathe in peace....breathe in peace....breathe in peace..." over and over again.  The shaking stopped.
 - When it was time, I opened my eyes and she asked me what I saw.  I saw tents.  Civil War tents.  In the movie, "God's and Generals," there's a scene when Lawrence wants to show his brother Tom something.  He walks him down to a field of tents where everyone is somebody's husband or brother or son.  Many of those men will not make it home.  But their reason for being there is to fight for the rights of all people, especially those who are not allowed to fight for themselves.  It's really quite powerful.
 - She told me that she saw me surrounded by a Heavenly host of angels.  The tents I saw, with front flaps for going in or coming out spoke to my access to them and their protection over me. I never thought of it that way.
 - I mentioned my book and the anguish I feel inside not having started it yet.  Having so much content but no structure.  She knew someone that might be able to help.
 - I love her hugs because I feel safe.  I don't care what others call it...I call it love.
 - Later that day she texted a word telling me she left a message for that person.
 - Later, still, she called then sent the picture of a newspaper article about another possibility.

I took care of myself the rest of the day and spent surprise time with friends.  Lots of laughter and philosophical conversation.  And a home cooked meal to boot.

So, why sad?  All the above doesn't necessarily make one happy even if I laugh and tease and get loved on.  I can still feel sad because....I'm sad.

And that's okay.

Dear Doc

There are so many questions pushing their way to the front of my mind that I'm having a hard time picking them apart.  Questions about bipolar depression, related seizure activity, loss of appetite that doesn't resemble chocolate, disturbed sleep, over sleeping, zoning out, staying in my car once I've reached my destination because I don't feel like getting out, hiding in my house under a blanket and watching mindless movies or television and taking my meds as prescribed but wondering, "Why do I bother?"

Feeling very down, suicidal ideation again, looked into purchasing a gun, wanted to engage in promiscuous behavior but all of that ceases because I know too much about God.

I don't want to be hospitalized again.
I'm tired of my meds changing every 5-6 months.
I'm not isolating.
I go to church each week, engage with friends, ask for prayer, attend Bible study, get out of my house when I want or need to and yet I still feel like crap.

So, Doc, what's the solution?  Do I accept that this is how my life will always be because it's been this way most of my life?  Do I use some new fangled technique that will turn the blues into sunshine?  Do I waste my thoughts on things that are not pure?  What do I do?

Please tell me because I'll do it.

I'll see you tomorrow.

(Note to readers:  Please don't dial 911 on anything I've said.  Remember, I use this as an outlet for how I'm feeling, not what I'm acting on)

God let me, out of His grace and love for me, find this: