Missing A Therapist From Your Past

If you have any form of mental illness, does it still bother you when there's a flare up?  I'm having one of those days and yes, it still bothers me.

The temperature is in the mid 50's, it's very windy. The most bothersome piece of the weather is the wind.  I don't know why but the wind in my ears, especially cool or cold wind, causes me to become angry.  Figure that one out.

I must have been quite tired.  I slept until 7:30 am, watched a little Flashpoint on Netflix, then fell asleep until just before noon.  I've been tired most of the week.  Maybe the extra sleep will help me cope with the depression.

I know I'm not supposed to hide in my house.  I'm supposed to go outside, maybe get in the car and go to my place of solitude where I feel safe and close to God.  It's just that the world seems too big today.

It's overwhelming so I sit on my couch, watch the traffic go by, listen to the wind and watch the trees and bushes move in the breeze.  It feels like I'm outside but I'm safe in my home.

I think about normal people I know.  How they can do normal things in a normal way with other normal people.  I know I'm not the only one who struggles with this.

There are days (like today) when I wish I could talk to Carol, a former therapist.  I miss her warmth, tenderness, hugs and tears.  When she listened, her eyes were glued to mine.  When she spoke, she dug a little deeper.  I always knew I was safe with her, even if we disagreed.

When she prayed over me, it was every week, before and after each session.  I learned how to hear her voice, especially when I was dissociating or having a flashback. It's her voice that brings reason and wisdom, comfort and security when I'm having a hard time connecting to God during emotional times.

I need to hear her voice again.

Sometimes depression can be prolonged by feelings that can be resolved.  I'm capable of picking up the phone, dialing a phone number, using my voice and saying, "I miss you."  It doesn't mean the depression is gone.

It means I can identify one way to help myself feel better.  When I can identify at least one way to feel better, the weight of the depression gets a little help from God so it's not so heavy.

God brought each therapist into my life to improve my life and draw me closer to Him.  Having that knowledge and believing it, just a tiny bit, opens the door to some hope.

And sometimes, just a little bit of hope is all I need to not plunge into the darkness.

Static

Static.  It's a bothersome noise when you're trying to listen to a favorite song, sports event or something else you enjoy.  I enjoy watching TV shows on Netflix.  But sometimes there's static.

The static is from my speakers.  A kitty must have chewed on one of the wires.  I can't find it but the proof is in the reduced sound quality.

I have static in my life, too.  I have this little bit of something that prevents me from doing 100% of what God is asking me to do.  I do 90% and then I stop.

My connection to God isn't as clear.  I feel 90% connected instead of 100% connected.  Where's the other 10%?  I don't know.

It could be stuck in a past situation.  Maybe I need to talk to someone and clear the air.

It could be lost in a present day task.  Maybe I'm moving around too much.

I could be forgotten in a future dream.  Maybe my mind is planning ahead.

In either case, I'm not giving God 100% of my attention.  I'm letting static into our relationship.  And when I do that, how can I expect to have equality in my quiet times or being in creation or having a conversation with a stranger who needs to know God loves them?

I can't.

I've got to tackle the static and let that disturbance flow through me and out of me.  It has no place in my heart.  It can be destructive, just like a lightening strike.  Take cover - here comes the unknown.

People matter to God (Rev. Bill Hybels)
I matter to God.
All of us matter to God.

Get rid of the static so that God can speak clearly to us and we can hear Him clearly.

Then There Was Richard

Red Eared Slider Turtle

Dear God,

You did it again!  Let me share it with my readers so they know what I'm talking about.

I was at the local Petco looking at all the animals.  Ferrets, hamsters, guinea pigs, mice and rats.  I especially enjoy watching the dogs getting groomed.  Often times I'll walk in there and the dogs who are already finished will come up to me for some lovin' and petting.  They look so happy!

About this time, I noticed a gentleman (about my age) bring his dog in to get groomed.  I could tell he was a very gentle guy who cared deeply about his dog.  I didn't think about him much because I was in one of my favorite environments.

The next stop is the cat room which is a rescue for older cats.  I always go to the cat room.  If there's a volunteer the cats are out of their houses roaming around or sitting on their favorite cat perch, pillow or tree.  On this day no one was there so I visited them in their little houses.  I always talk to them very softly and sweetly to let them know they are loved.  Then I pray for you (God) to find them a safe forever home.

As I walked out of there I headed to the cat toys.  I enjoy seeing what's new even if I can't afford to buy anything.  Dreaming about what I can give my cats is probably similar to what parents dream they can give their children.  I found some more soft furry mats that I can get them for winter for only $4.99.  I was glad to see they still have them.  I have one and it's completely machine washable friendly.

I decided to go to the reptile exhibit on the other side of the store.  I'd been there before and I was not disappointed.  The guy who was having his dog groomed was there.  I was uncomfortable because of my fear of men but he didn't frighten me.  I went ahead with my exploration.  They had some turtles, lizard geckos, black and green spotted frogs and some kind of a snake.  At the end of the isle I had to say, "Excuse me." to the man.  He moved and then I saw it!

It was an aquarium with six turtles in it!  I was with a friend and I exclaimed, "Look at this!  They're swimming!"  She came over to look and we laughed.  Then the guy came over!  And so began another conversation designed to bring one more lost person closer to Jesus.

He said he heard us laughing and wanted to know what was so funny.  Then he saw the turtles swimming.  It brought back memories of his childhood when his mom said turtles carry salmonella so he couldn't keep it.  He's still not sure that's true but doubts it since they're in a pet store.  The turtles we were looking at were called the Red Eared Slider.  We laughed at that, too, because all of us had White Castle jokes.

The man and I talked about local forest preserves we both go to.  We had a lot in common in what interested us.  Same places, same paths, same sounds.  His gentle nature was that of a child filled with wonder.  When we talked about McHenry Dam, we said at the same time, "The baby turtles that jump off the logs into the water!"

He asked if I was a photographer.  I said not at this point, I don't have a camera.  He was wondering why I go to all these nature places.  I told him it brings me closer to God.  He looked at me with a question mark.  I told him I have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and one of the ways I feel close to him is through creation.  He stood there looking at me and nodded.  Then he said, "Will you tell God I said hi?"  "Of course I will.  What's your name?"  "Richard."  "Richard, my name is Amy."  "Thanks.  I better get going or my wife is going to wonder where we are."  "Okay."

I reached out and tapped his forearm two times.
He seemed comforted.
Then he was gone.

Of course I've been praying for Richard.  That You would continue putting Christians in his path so that he can find Jesus and live a life devoted to You.

And yet I wonder, God.

Was I supposed to be that person?

Your devoted daughter,
Amy

When Innocent Words Trigger An Emotional Response

It happened about two weeks ago.  I was talking with someone about a topic I don't even remember.  What I do remember is the phrase she used, "All things considered..."  Once those words were spoken its like my brain couldn't move off how they related to what I was talking about.  In this case, I felt immediate anger and started defending myself.

She made an innocent comment.

I got triggered.

That means something she said or the way she said it or both sounded like something from my past that was not a good experience.  I felt that way a year and a half ago with my psychiatrist's nurse.  I basically exploded on her over the phone.  Even though I was direct and did not use swear words, it was clear I felt angry and I became defensive at some of what she was saying.

Because I value this current relationship I did not do an all out freak out.  I did not lose control nor did I say words that I'd later regret.  Instead, I told her why "All things considered," was not true in this instance.  All things had NOT been considered.  I took the phrase literally as I do most conversations and comments.  Was that the right thing to do?  I don't know.

The problem I'm having is I can see in my head the expression on her face.  When I react to being treated unfairly or having my life experience minimized, I speak directly with a lot of passion.  I'm looking someone in the eye when I'm talking so I'm taking in their facial expression, body language, etc..

She looked surprised and taken back at the same time.  I immediately toned it down figuring I might have gone a bit overboard in my reaction.  What I didn't know was whether or not I'd injured her.

During the last few days I've been struggling with eating too many carbs.  I'm going into my safe zone by trying to kill these emotions.  I'm not sure which ones they are yet.  Some sadness, regret and maybe anger against myself.

What I do know is it's difficult for me to manage an emotional response. Triggers are especially hard because they have warning signs I don't always recognize until it's too late.  Once my emotions are out the door, pulling them back in can be difficult.

When it was time to go, she asked if we were okay.  I think I said something like, "Not yet," because I was still trying to get a handle on what just happened.  I avoided seeing her last week.  We have some time set up for tomorrow.  I'm sure this will be discussed.

It needs to be discussed.

The question for me is....God, when innocent words trigger an emotional response, what do I do?

A Knock at the Door

I had a young lady from AT&T knock on my door.  She was going to talk about my service and possibly update it.  Before she got to that she noticed one of my cats outside running to the neighbor's house.  Then we had one of those "God" conversations.

She told me when she was about four or five years old she was attacked on the face by a cat.  She was all scratched up, bleeding, the works.  Since then she's had panic attacks every time a cat rubs up against her or touches her.

She said one time she was in her car and a friend's cat was sitting outside of her car door.  She had to call her friends to come and move the cat because she was so afraid.  I said to her, "That sounds like PTSD."  She didn't know what that stood for.  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  YES, she said.  That's it.

I told her about a therapy program at Alexian Brothers in Hoffman Estates.  It's called Exposure Therapy and it's part of the Anxiety program.  It's about exposing someone to the fear slowly and teaching them how to manage the fear or panic they feel.  It's like telling yourself you're not 4-5 years old anymore even though that's how you feel in the moment.  They teach you how to retrain your thoughts and feelings so that you're no longer a prisoner to that incident that happened so long ago.

I shared with her some of the trauma I've been working on and how important it's been to not give so much power to the memories, the dreams or the flashbacks of the abuse.  I'm learning to bring those negative and hurtful body memories into the present, reminding myself that I am in complete control of who touches me.  I'm stronger, bigger and I have a voice.  I have more tools in my toolbox that I can use when those flashbacks and body memories surface.  I also have a close relationship with Jesus so I can ask Him for help.

We had a nice talk.  She asked again what hospital it was at.  I told her and then wished her well.

God has been using me a lot lately to speak encouragement and direct people on where to get help.  Talking to people about their issues, specifically, and divulging mine is very comfortable.  Maybe He's getting me ready to be transparent with the publication of the book.

Then again, maybe He's showing me I still have a purpose.

Junk Food - Higher Tax

I had an interesting conversation with my niece who is a freshman in high school.  She is preparing to argue that junk food should not have a higher tax than other foods.  Her objective is to persuade her classmates that taxing junk food will not reduce the number of people in the United States who are obese.

Her teacher admitted she has a tough argument to make.  My niece went to the library and checked out two books.  One was filled with arguments for and against the taxation.  The other was filled with statistics, charts and graphs backing up those arguments.  She was having difficulty making sense of how to defend not having a tax on junk food, thinking the tax would act as a deterrent.

Enter Aunt Amy.

As a woman who has been in recovery for decades for all sorts of addictions, I was able to help her by giving personal examples from my own experience with obesity.  I told her how I gained fifty pounds between sixth and eighth grade because of the stress at home.  She was surprised to hear about it.

Aside from my personal story, I gave her these to think about:

1. Ask your class to raise their hand if they eat chocolate.  Ask your class to raise their hand if they eat chips.  Ask your class to raise their hand if they drink sugary sodas.  Tell them at their age that's what they're usually doing and it's not abnormal.  Many of them are still growing, are in sports so they're active and they go to parties with their friends.  How would they feel if they were taxed on junk food that doesn't effect them yet?  
2. Obesity isn't always caused by junk food.  Consider all the carbs available to us.  Bread being the most eaten.  
3. Do you know why most poor people are obese?  Fast food is usually cheaper than healthy foods. (My niece said)
4. What about food pantries?  They are well meaning but filled with carbs including lots of breads and desserts.  Sometimes there are no limits for either.  Fruits and vegetables are scarce.  (My niece observed after serving at a local food pantry)
5. Putting a higher tax on junk food is like increasing the tax on cigarettes.  People who have a food addiction (where they eat instead of feeling their feelings) will pay the tax.  People who smoke will find a way to keep getting their cigarettes.  
6. The higher tax does not have the person's well being in mind.  If it did, the tax would go toward a treatment program and not into the state's budget.
7. Not everyone with obesity has high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol or other ailments.
8. Taxing junk food will punish people who are healthy and enjoy a little something extra to eat here and there.
9. How will the tax be determined?  Will it be by the type of junk food?  And how will junk food be defined?  Who will be making those decisions?  
10. Taxing junk food might sound good at first as the answer to America's obesity problem but let's be real.  People are going to eat whatever they want to eat.  Give them better choices and better comparisons.  Bring down the price of produce.  Make it more economical to buy bottled water rather than bottled soda.  Change the economics and I bet obesity will decrease without an added tax. 

Even though this is a fictional topic, it caused me to look at myself.  I still have eighty pounds to lose.  I told my niece if she wanted to interview me as an obese person, I'd be happy to help her in any way I can.  

In the end, she thanked me for the help.  She said she was really stuck and I totally opened her eyes to see how she can defend her argument.

God wants us to build into the next generation.  I love my nephews and nieces.  Whenever I can, I support them in extracurricular activities, one on one lunches, these type of conversations and whatever else He puts in front of me.

No matter what state of mind I'm in or what I'm struggling with, God gives me what I need to be able to build into them.  

I love Him and I love them very much.

Rejection

The day was beautiful and I still wanted to hide inside.  Fortunately, I offered to take a friend to pick up her car so it forced me out of the house.  But then a feeling I hadn't felt for a few weeks came roaring up from within.  I wanted to eat myself to death.

I ate breakfast.  I was eating sugary foods beforehand.  I felt like my thoughts were taking over and so was my good judgment.  I was battling the strong desire to eat everything in sight or at least stop at the store and purchase all the foods I was avoiding.

I've lost 27 pounds.  I've lost 11 pounds so far this year.  What is going on inside of me?

Then I remembered.  It could be the dreams I've been having.  Dreams about Bonnie.  Dreams about death.  Dreams about her husband dying.  Dreams about grieving.  Dreams about our friendship dying.  The sadness I feel now that I'm more conscious than I was a few years ago when I left.

How do I deal with a loss I caused that was based on supportive behavior she was slowly backing away from?  How do I deal with the loss of someone I loved, someone who was my best friend?  How do I grieve a friendship that I thought was unbreakable only to find out the truth:  I wasn't worth waiting or fighting for?

I don't know.  These dreams are repetitious.  The same content, similar relationships, same ages, same kids with kids, sorrow and sadness, questions without answers.

I don't like these dreams.  Each time I have them I want to kill the pain with food.  We worked hard at our friendship at the beginning to repair some damage.  When that was fixed, the rest was good.  I loved her children - all seven of them.  I cared for and respected her husband.

None of them understood me.  None of them wanted to understand me.  I was too difficult, too strange, too sick to be let around them.  I'd gone from treasured to trash.

Never do that to someone who has mental illness.

Never.