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:

When Pain Needs Healing

I found out a man who was a friend of my Dad's passed away recently.  I read the name in the obituaries and suspected it was him.  Unfortunately, I missed several days on Facebook so I didn't know it was him until yesterday.

What got me are the pictures his youngest daughter posted.  A picture of him with his granddaughter but he was on a feeding machine and other life sustainers.  Then there were pictures at our local cemetery - the one most people are buried in.  He was laid to rest near a friend's father who I visit on her behalf.  It was strange and it was sad.

I've already told the story of my dad's passing, the grotesque viewing and the bitch (not my mom) he married.  It's  hard to reconcile and even harder to forget the memories of those 24 hours.  His ashes are gone, I was not mentioned in the obituary and she moved out of their leased town home is less than a week.

I don't feel sorry for myself but it's one of those aches that hasn't gone away.  Healing is taking its time which I guess is a good thing.  I'm not doing anything to stop it which is a first.

I've often asked God, "Why did my dad hate me so much?  Why did he beat my little body so that my personality split and I became an angry protector?  Why did he stop talking to me three years before his death?  What did I do?"

That last question I've been asking since I can remember.  "What did I do that was so bad that my dad has to beat me?"  There never was an answer.

No wake.  No funeral.  A one and a half hour viewing for my sisters and I.  Never saw the urn.  Never received ashes.  Found one of his slippers in the garbage.

Is there pain in healing?  You bet.

There's also healing in the pain.

But I'm not there yet.

The Process of Becoming

The first time I was hospitalized was through outpatient at Meier Clinics in October 2006. It's an intense program filled with education and challenges.  On the first day they give you your therapist who will be working with you as you're in the program. I remember that morning very clearly when this woman who was very confident and strong taught one of our sessions. I asked God to not have her be my therapist because she scared me. As you may have already guessed Carol Davis-Serpas, LCPC, became the best gift and friend I could've ever asked for during my three years of recovery work.  

After a suicide attempt in December 2006 I was admitted to Good Shepherd Hospital where I stayed for 10 to 14 days. I would return to that hospital another three times after having suicide attempts and no desire to live. But each time I walked out of there I had a little bit more hope because the therapists really cared and spent time with me. We also got to do a lot of art, exercise and classes that were educational and informative. I miss that environment even to this day. 

At Alexian Brothers, God brought a very skilled and insightful team of professionals to help me learn how to not self injure or overeat.  They did this using cognitive behavior therapy and dialectical behavior therapy. 

Dialectical behavior therapy taught me how to use mindfulness, emotional regulation and distress tolerance. Those are not easy to master because the opposite often took over thus making me susceptible to destructive behaviors inflicted on myself.

In my words, cognitive behavior therapy taught me how my thoughts lead to feelings which then led to behavior. This can be perceived as good or destructive. Since I was in the hospital I had obviously used destructive behavior in order to cope with negative thoughts and intense feelings of sadness and loneliness.

While I was in treatment for those 10 days I was blessed to have Dr. Erin Terada as my therapist. I had been released after 10 days then went to outpatient for about two weeks before I began to have more emotional and mental breakdowns in my mind. I was becoming increasingly aggressive in my thoughts toward people that were in charge of the outpatient program. And then I became homicidal with suicidal thoughts. So they put me back into inpatient and back with Dr. Terada.

I was disgusted with myself because I worked really hard the first time to get what I was supposed to learn because I didn't want to come back. But evidently there was something that I missed. What I missed was not just a medication adjustment but Dr. Terada wrote several poignant questions, about five or six sheets of paper, that she wanted me to really spend time on and get to the root of what was causing all this turmoil.

I finished those papers and I still have them. I refer to them from time to time when I need a reminder about why I'm trying to not self injure or over eat. I need to remember that these feelings I have, even though they are so intense, are still manageable based on the choices that I make. My choices are simple but are not easy. I need to talk to somebody, I need to talk to my therapist, I need to keep myself safe in my own home by not playing with razor blades.  I have not cut since sometime in 2014 but I still self-insure inside of my mouth.

Today God showed me why I do the things I do.  It's not to hurt or destroy the beautiful creation that he has made.  Overtime God has shown me that everything I survived as a child to the age of 21 was because I had the will to live. Even though my first suicide attempt was at the age of 11, I know that he saved me from myself. 

I knew from that day forward that even though I failed at my attempts I really didn't want to leave. I didn't want to leave my sisters and I didn't want to leave my mom and I didn't want to leave the few friends that I did have. 

I definitely wanted to kill my dad and I wanted to kill that boy and I wanted to kill the others who had sexually abused me but I did not want to go to jail as a juvenile or as an adult because I knew that I would be very scared.

God continues to show me that all the abuse that was dealt to my little body and my adult body will not be in vain. I've often said that God doesn't waste pain - he uses it for his good. He allows it to pass through his hands because he knows my faith is strong in him and I know how much he loves me. 

And if I ever have any doubts about that all I have to do is look at my arms or my shoulders or parts of my torso and say to myself, "I did not cut bad enough to kill my body but I did it hard enough  to be able to feel."  

God must have a plan for my life.

Just hang in there.

Psalm 23 Personalized

I wrote this in my early days of being hospitalized at Meier Clinics in outpatient.  I just found it in a folder and was struck by it's transparency.  Maybe it will help you - it did me when I reread it.

My name is Amy and I'm a survivor.

A survivor of what?  You might ask.

A survivor of childhood physical and emotional trauma.

The Lord is my Shepherd, in Him is all that I want.

He wants me to walk with Him in the green meadows

where the dew dances in the early morning sun.

He walks slowly toward the stream of water

that cascades over a hill into a beautiful waterfall.

He rebuilds the weariness of my parched soul that 

has been aching for a drink of the Living Water.

Even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil.  For the evil one has plans to destroy me

but my Shepherd has plans to protect me.  All the days

of my life are designed to bring glory unto Him and to Him alone.

Who else would I want to walk with?  No one.

No other shepherd could ever do what my Shepherd does.

He loves me with an everlasting love.

He restores my soul.

He is for me, not ever against me.

He cries for me and collects every tear from my eye.

All day long, I wonder about Him.

I dream about Him.

I see Him.

He does way more than that with me.

He thought of me before I was even one day old.

He prepared a home for me on this earth.

He's prepared a home for me in Heaven.

He's my protector, my guardian, my Father, my Savior, my Guide.

I long to ask him, "Why so much pain in my life?"

But I suspect He will only say, "Why not?

Have you not grown closer to me through the pain?

Do you not have a deeper understanding of me in your pain?

Your pain will not be wasted.

I will use it to deepen your faith and draw others unto me.

I already have through you.

You just don't know it.

I watch you suffer and anguish.

I watch you fight and I am so proud.

You are a feisty child of mine, one I can point to and say,

"See?  This may have slowed Amy down for a bit but she never gives up!

She always bounces back and does the right thing."

That brings glory to my Name over and over again.

You are very strong, my child.

You have an inner strength that I can use to heal those 

who are lost in their pain and can't find a way out.

I know you are struggling right now and I know you are suffering.

Cry, Amy.

Talk, Amy.

Let it out, Amy.

You are in safe hands.

You are in my children's hands.

You can trust them for I've placed them around you.

You can trust me, too.

Come back to me in your own way, my child.

Don't worry about rules and clubs and how to's and what others think.

Get back to church and get back to my Word.

I love you with an everlasting love,

one that does not fade even if you need to walk away for a time.

The pain you are in is going to take some time to heal.

Don't rush it and please don't push it aside.

Don't live in it 24/7 and remember to talk about it with your therapist.

I qualified her for you, Amy.

She's a softie and I know her heart is tender toward you.

She has something to learn from you, too, so don't give up and don't give in.

You are my precious child, my one and only Amy.

I love you so much.

Be still and know that I love you.

Be still and know I'm praying for you.

Be still and know I've surrounded you with my Heavenly realm.

Be still and know I've provided for you.

Be still and know I'm not ever going to leave you.

Be still and know I will have revenge on those who hurt you.

Be still and know I have anger against those who hurt you.

Be still and know how much I want to see you healed.

Be still and know your writing will change lives.

Be still and know...Be still and know...Be still and know that

you are my precious angel, my precious daughter, my sweet one, my darling little girl.

And on those days when you want to give in to suicide, remember, 

I don't want you home yet.  Your dwelling place isn't ready.

Your work on the earth is not yet done.

When you asked, "Why do you still have me here?",

I want to say to you, "Because I am God and I have a reason."

I can't tell you why.

Trust me.

You may never know but you can trust me.

I have reasons, Amy, and they aren't always easy to explain.

But you can trust me because I've never broken a promise to you, have I?

No, I haven't.

And when I say to you, "Amy, I want you to write your story to bring

hope and healing to those who are still suffering,"

I'm serious.  I want you to write your story.

You have much to share, much tragedy, much hope, 

much experience, much insight, much wisdom and 

much pain that can bring light into people's darkest regions of their souls.  

But only you can reach the people I want reached with your story, Amy.  

You're story will change their lives and in that

I hope you will understand that your suffering was not in vain.

Remember this:  I love you.  I won't ever leave you.  I have a plan and purpose for you.  Do the hard work, cry the hard and lonely tears, reach out to those you need right now, and relax, Amy.  Relax in everything that is coming your way.  I have you wrapped in my arms, my safe and loving arms, and no one can ever snatch you, okay?  Okay.

Love your true Father, 

Abba God.