Mental Wellness

Toilet Trauma

It didn’t go according to plan. ‘IT’, being, reducing my meds.  The decision was made by me, MYSELF, in the presence of my psychiatrist.  He wasn’t convinced but went along with it – maybe to spare my feelings or to let me really SEE. Maybe he thought it would be funny. Let me just say, I was monumentally wrong. 

Allow me to share a recent, fairly harmless example.

Here’s what would have happened IF I had been on a proper dose of meds:

I walk into the bathroom expecting everything to be in order but the toilet is plugged. AGAIN.  How annoying. Puzzlingly, the plunger is MISSING. How inconvenient. Being lazy and thinking I can just handle it using the toilet brush, albeit less effective, it will probably pump enough water to dislodge whatever is stuck. (EEW)

I quickly grab the handle of the brush and pull it from its holding container.  I say, ‘OH SHIT’ (literally) as the container is right FULL of nasty, dirty toilet water which propels forth across the entire half bath and makes an ugly puddle on the floor.   

I still need to use the bathroom.  I squeeze my legs together, submerge the brush in the almost overflowing toilet to swish it around and rinse off the offensive crap (HA HA).  I complete the rigorous pumping action and am rewarded by the glorious flush of the tank. “Oh good, the toilet isn’t broken.”

Now, I pick up the toilet brush container, dump (Heh heh) its contents in the toilet. FLUSH.  Put the container in the FRESH toilet water and use the brush to ‘CLEAN’ it. While Container and brush chill in the toilet, I spray and wipe down the floor, the walls, the mirror, the pedestal sink, the windowsill, the window, the blinds, the picture frames, and the cat’s litter box.  “Gee, I hope I got it all.” I finish by giving the toilet a quick clean and putting the container and brush back on the floor beside the toilet.  THEN, I use the bathroom and carry on. 

How it really went down – me on reduced meds: 

I walk into the bathroom expecting everything to be in order but the toilet is plugged. AGAIN. I scream, ‘BLOODY HELL! WHO PLUGGED THE TOILET AND WALKED AWAY? WHO PLUGGED THE TOILET AND FAILED TO REPORT IT IS OUT OF ORDER?  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?” Puzzlingly, the plunger is MISSING. “O MY GOD! WHERE IN THE HOLY HELL IS THE PLUNGER?  WHO TOOK THE PLUNGER? WHY WOULD ANYONE TAKE IT? AND DIDN’T WHY DIDN’T THEY RETURN IT?  WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?”  

In a frenzied rage, I grab the handle of the brush and pull it from its holding container.  “OH SHIT!” The container is right full of nasty, dirty toilet water which propels forth across the entire half bath and makes an ugly puddle on the floor. “UUUUUGH!!! YOU BASTARDS!”  I still need to use the bathroom.  I squeeze my legs together, and hastily submerge the brush in the almost overflowing toilet. I VIOLENTLY pump it against the drain with superhuman force until it flushes. 

Now, I pick up the toilet brush container, causing spillage and swearing under my breath. I dump its contents in the toilet. FLUSH.  I angrily force the container into the FRESH toilet water and use the brush to ‘CLEAN’ it. Leaving the container and brush in the toilet, I yell, “I GUESS I HAVE TO CLEAN THE WHOLE BATHROOM TOO! WHY IS THIS ALWAYS MY JOB?  CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?  I’M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN! NEXT TIME SOMEONE PLUGS THE TOILET, IT IS STAYING EFF-ING PLUGGED UNTIL THEY FIX IT THEMSELVES!” I spray and wipe down the floor, the walls, the mirror, the pedestal sink, the windowsill, the window, the blinds, the picture frames, and the cat’s litter box.  “F***. I probably missed some. We just have to live in FILTH.”  I finish by giving the toilet a quick clean and putting the container and brush back on the floor beside the toilet.  THEN, I use the bathroom and carry on. Everytime I meet someone in the house, I stop them and list ALL the UNPLEASANT things I HAVE TO DO EVERYDAY and how I’m not the ONLY ADULT in the HOUSE who is capable of cleaning.  I continue to passive aggressively return to this subject FOREVER. 

STOP.

I often question whether taking medication is stifling or ACTUALLY helpful.  The process of weaning off, changing my mind, and then slowly increasing the meds again until I reached a state of lessened anxiety, was a SIGNIFICANT struggle.  It was worth it just to discover that my spirit stays intact.  My essence remains with or without medication.

I officially take medications to curb the symptoms of borderline personality disorder.  Personally, I think ‘Borderline Personality Disorder’ is a misnomer.  It’s more of an EMOTIONAL disorder.  Without meds, I am unable to regulate my emotions and trend toward intense, catastrophic anxiety, inflexibility, negativity, and depression.  It is really hard WORK to check myself, especially as a pastor who is, by nature,  expected to be humble, accepting, and loving.  IF a trigger IS hit, it’s a challenge to reel it in.  I’m a bit of a walking emotional time bomb. IF I feel ignored, abandoned, or disliked, I react emotionally to quell the overwhelm of anxiety.  My behaviour CHANGES to protect, numb, or distract myself from the discomfort of extreme stress.  Shielding my fragile self-image sometimes spells personal sabotage and destruction. It can be AWKWARD.

Without the meds, my whole bathroom saga felt like a personal attack on my ability to parent and keep house. As if the clogged toilet was a CALCULATED demonstration of what I have FAILED to teach my children and how terrible I am for letting the ‘yuck factor’ in cleaning get OUT OF HAND.  It triggered a subconscious cascade of unwanted thoughts and memories about EVERY failure I have perceived in my motherhood and marriage. My self-judgment spurred the loud cursing that was designed to rouse the attention of my family, name myself as the victim and BLAME everyone else to take the pressure off of my isolated position in the story.

I don’t think this is unique to BPD, but I experience splitting, which is a marked division between my ‘NORMAL SELF’ and my ‘UNHEALED SELF.’  As a result, my mood swings are unpredictable.  I have issues with identity confusion and internal conflict. Insert [Imposter Syndrome]. Depression overtakes me with a deep sense of ongoing emptiness.  It is in THESE moments that I need MORE than medication.  I need to look inward, embrace mystery, and trust GOODNESS to prevail.

Once, when I was feeling pathetically helpless, I prayed for something very specific to cheer me up.  “God,” I said, “I never REALLY ask you for anything tangible.  It would help me enormously to know you ARE listening.” Then, as if God works like some kind of magical Santa Claus, I asked, “Please, please, please let the clothing I ordered arrive TODAY.”  I’m not usually so desperate about clothes, but these were clergy garments that would refresh my wardrobe after many years of body dysmorphia and clothes that just didn’t fit right and detracted from my professionalism.  When I finished I scolded myself for being SO petty.  I went on with my day.  When I got home THE BOX was on the table.  I began to do the math – “what day did I place the order?  Has it been 6-8, or maybe 12 weeks?  Was this MY intuition or did GOD really just DO that for ME?” The crust around my soul began to crumble. (sounds Grinchy)  “What IF God just did that?”….. “Um, God, okay, thank you for showing me that you ARE real and you HEAR me.  I’m so sorry that I put you to the test…  So…hey…you’ll deliver my package when I ask – what then will you do with my REAL problems?”  

This is an experience I often return to when I’m in distress.  God cares about ME. God loves ME.  God looks out for ME, myself.  The missing toilet plunger doesn’t matter.  The mess has no enduring consequence. My family is not to blame, no one is plotting against me or abandoning me.  The toilet is JUST clogged and there IS NO plunger. It’s an inconvenience. Nothing more. The goal of treatment for emotional/personality disorders is differentiation of self – having the ability to maintain one’s true self in anxiety and in emotional situations.  My healing work is focused on changing my relationship between how I THINK and how I EXPRESS my EMOTIONS. It leads me through the storms of life to find my center calm, my connection to the ground of all being, my Christ-heart, my godspark, my soul.

I’m a work in progress.  Aren’t we ALL? Dr. Richard Schwartz’ theory of ‘Internal Family Systems,’ takes Dr. Bowen’s ‘Family Systems Theory’ which is concerned with the different interdependent roles assumed within healthy AND dysfunctional families, and APPLIES IT to an individual person and their many ‘parts’.  This resonates.  I don’t feel that I have a bunch of different personalities inside of me that fight for leadership.  But, I do feel like I have distinct PARTS. 

In IFS the ‘parts’ include EXILES, the parts of yourself that your ‘system’ works to keep hidden and out of trouble.  They carry your burdens like shame, fear, grief, anger, dependency, and loneliness. They also long to be healed and freed. MANAGERS are your parts that protect ‘the whole system’ from feelings of hurt and rejection. They maintain control by creating an illusion of safety by being super competent, and utilizing your self-critic to prevent humiliation and abandonment.  FIREFIGHTERS serve and protect ‘the system’ when triggers hit too close to home.  They react, attack, and create diversions (like addictions, eating and sleep disorders, extra work, self-harm, and dissociation), all to keep your exiles from seeing the light of day.

My favorite part is the CORE SELF.  When you can uncover this part and maintain it, it becomes the active and compassionate LEADER of all the other parts. It takes away their ‘jobs’ and replaces them with pleasant, and positive, productive roles.  It is your natural essence, that has been sheltered from damage by all the other parts. Your Core Self acts with spontaneity, and creativity. It emerges when you feel centered and truly safe and calm. Your confident core self is Playful, Curious, Adventurous, and Stable. It is your BEST SELF.  When it is uncovered, it needs NO improvement, because it’s already perfect the way it is…..the way God made you.

As a Christian, the core self, my best self, fits the concept of my soul – which I believe is beyond the limits of the physical body or the human psyche.  The soul is the essence, energy, electricity, everlasting part of you that IS accessible during this earthly walk and contains ALL the wisdom and strength you need to find peace and healing WITHIN  yourself.  I’m not talking about a cure-all.  I am talking about a state of being that is calm, knowing, and in fact, a little piece of God’s all encompassing love that has settled in you no matter what else is happening in your life.  

People are complicated.  When you are faced with dirty toilet brushes and stuff that’s stuck, BREATHE. Center yourself.  Ask all your managers and firefighters to give you some room, to step aside.  Hug your exiles and draw on your CORE – the being that God meant for you to be – be filled with THAT light.  Bathroom drama, I think most dramas, CAN be navigated with improved self-awareness and the courage to be vulnerable. We can live as we die and die as we live within our personal ‘system’ and in interconnection with and care for the ‘systems’ of OTHERS, even if they expect you to clean the toilet.

Requiem

A letter to my dead brother.

*Trigger Warning. Suicide*

Requiem is Latin for REST.  But you ALREADY knew that, didn’t you?  You were always so well read, so smart, and so articulate.  Are you resting now?  Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine. ‘Eternal rest grant them, O Lord’ – has eternal rest been granted to YOU?  You were forty-four when your otherworldly quest for peace began.  It was your birthday this week.  I thought of you. You would’ve been fifty-six. You’ve missed 11 earthly birthdays. Still life rolls forward even though there are many things left unsaid.

Do you know that ALL I ever wanted from you was approval?  A smile, a nod, a kind word.  I understand that you were deeply troubled. I’ve become QUITE familiar with mental health derailment. When you and I  were kids the labels and the help DIDN’T exist.  Eleven years ago it wasn’t much better.  Today it seems EVERYBODY wants a piece and it makes it difficult to get proper care – until you REALLY lose your mind or cause harm.  There are no neat categories.  No definitive diagnosis or prognosis. But if you are willing to jump through the hoops, endure all the chaos, allow the endless poking and prodding, eventually, if you are lucky – perhaps only by God’s grace, someone FINALLY stamps your hand and gives you passage into the shakey world of treatment and accommodations.    

The medical and psychological powers never did nail down YOUR disease.  Granted, from what I understand, the process of your personal detangling didn’t start until you were well into adulthood. Nevertheless, bi-polar or whatever you were, I ALWAYS sensed it.  My angry, hurtful, terrifying big brother.  Although you just could NOT like me, I adored you. Even when you screamed in my face, threatened me, thwarted me, squashed the caterpillar I was admiring, and said vile, hateful things to me, I loved you and I wanted you to care.  But you couldn’t.

You were so kind and so funny, and obliging to EVERYONE else, even to my silly friends who thought you were the coolest.  I thought you were the coolest – but you left me in the shadows.  You didn’t know it, but I watched you from a distance, longing to sit close.  Even so, I peeked out to marvel at your radiance.

I built a wall around myself once.  It protected me. I needed SOMETHING to guard me, to buffer the insults – to muffle the direct and horrible hits to my self-worth, to block out the overwhelming question about whether I DESERVED to draw air, to be in YOUR presence.  EVERYDAY you were alive, I clung to the hope that ONE DAY YOU WOULD CHANGE YOUR MIND.  You’d LET ME be a part of YOUR amazing life.  You’d show me the art you created and let me listen with you to your favorite music, you’d tell me about the best books you’d read, about your wilderness adventures, you’d laugh and tease and appreciate me – your reverent little sister.

When you died that hope was LOST.  Our children would never benefit from the carefree days of cousinhood and you and I would never enjoy a comfortable, unspoken, unconditional bond, as many siblings do. There would be NO camping trips, NO Christmas dinners, NO friendly check ins, NO growing relationship. To this day, I am reinventing myself as someone who doesn’t NEED your APPROVAL, or anyone else’s for that matter.  It’s funny how much of my identity was threatened when the wall became IRRELEVANT.  I kept it, out of habit, I suppose.  My perception of myself broke into a thousand bits that I’m STILL struggling to put back together. The wall looks different now – parts of it have crumbled and fallen, but

I still hide behind it sometimes.  

You had your 10 year chip.  A HUGE accomplishment. The autopsy confirmed you were not drinking. You were working SO hard on yourself. I’m proud of your valiant efforts. I’m not sure who you chose to make amends with when you did your ninth step.  Did you DO your ninth step?  It’s none of my business…but I can’t help but wonder, WAS IT TOO MUCH for me to wish that you’d acknowledge the damage you’d inflicted upon ME?  DIDN’T YOU KNOW THAT YOU HURT ME over and over and over again?  Did you have any faith, REALLY?  The AA steps are steeped in God language – regardless of changing the words to ‘higher power’ and ‘making amends’ – faith in something bigger and benevolent is the undertone. [that’s my uninformed impression – I don’t really know anything – just that it confuses me] Anyway, it doesn’t seem to fit with who I THOUGHT you were. Well, YOU didn’t know ME EITHER.  So here we are.

I sound angry.  I AM angry.  I can be angry and still love you.  I can be hurt and still forgive you.  I forgive you.  I love you.

Were you scared, big brother? Did you have second thoughts?  Were you sad? Did you make your peace?  Were you anxious for whatever would come next?  You should know that you highly UNDERESTIMATED the IMPACT your death would have on all of us still left to this life.  Thank you for including my name in your final note, listed with the people you loved.  It provided great comfort.  I understand liking and loving are different. I can accept that.  I’m so sorry that you were just SO exhausted by the WORK of living that relief, even death, was a welcome companion.  I hope that in your last moments you didn’t feel alone.  I hope LOVE held you and holds you STILL.

  Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine.

“SHOULD” is a dirty word.

My psychiatrist thinks Thursday is my day OFF, but it’s not.  I like how happy it makes HIM to think I follow such a healthy routine, so I don’t correct him. Truthfully, I don’t have a consistent day set ASIDE to rest.  There is NO time to rest, even if I’m NOT working.  

Keeping up with all my mindfulness tasks is a JOB in and of itself – yoga, meditation, listening to music and podcasts, reading, dog walking, fresh air, sunshine, volunteering with ponies, seeing friends and extended family, or even just calling them, writing, crocheting, playing guitar, drawing, EVEN praying – crammed all together in a day or two ARE work.  Add housekeeping and family management to that and I’m DONE.  Actual work at my JOB can be a welcome distraction from my self-improvement schedule and home life.

Sometimes I fall prey to the jaws of my own anxiety and feelings of guilt.  The SHOULDS begin to PROD at me even when I’m trying so hard to ignore them.  You should be working, they nag. You SHOULD be at the office, there’s so much to organize, so much to prepare, so many calls you COULD make.  It’s a nice day, you SHOULD walk around the village and visit ALL your parishioners.  They’d appreciate it.  You should go NOW. Isn’t so and so due for surgery?  Didn’t somebody just have a bad fall?  What about checking in with so and so’s recent widow? Isn’t there a get together, an event, a cause you SHOULD be supporting?  You should be MORE involved in the community.  There’s still half a day left – GO to the coffee shop, the community center, the park.  Be visible.  Be AVAILABLE.  It’s good for you.  People need YOU, Nadine! They are hard pressed for SOMEONE to minister to them.  Get off your self-absorbed butt and get to work!

No?  Well then, at LEAST mow the lawn, weed the flowerbeds, sweep the deck, do the dishes, do the laundry, prepare the recycling, take out the garbage, get the mail, scrub the floor, clean out the fridge.  I never dust.  My conscience has NOTHING to say about dust.

I’m dialing back on one of my antidepressant medications.  It’s going great. Gosh I’m edgy.  EVERY feeling is augmented.  Shame is ugly.  I COULD blame my meds.  That’s what I’ll tell my therapist.  Oh- those meds!  They wreak havoc on everything ‘MINE’.  

Rosie KNOWS the truth.  She’s the pony who listened to ALL my bull yesterday.  She could tell I was uncomfortable in my own skin – getting too close to touching my OWN rawness.  Deep in a pit of self-judgement and loathing.  Her eyes held me.  I got lost in her gaze.  She trained me up ‘real good’.  It wasn’t a calm day at the farm and the horses were startling easily.  

But Rosie overcame that.  I can’t take ANY credit because I was a mess.  First, as per usual, she gave me a hassle on our promenade to the arena.  She didn’t WANT to stand where I asked. She KNOWS that she can easily OUT LEAD me. But something shifted.  After rubbing her itchy bum on the support beam, she urged ME to groom her.  She let ME lean in, scratch her ears and murmur at her. She was STILL.  She was PATIENT (she’s usually sassy).  When I turned away SHE stepped toward me, put HER nose on my shoulder, she coaxed me to ENJOY her contact, she nuzzled and listened to me breathe out. She was so EMPATHETIC and KIND. Thank God for her.

Today the SHOULDS are still bugging me.  I’m mostly ready for Sunday.  I’m procrastinating though.  This is PRIME sermon writing time.  The scripture readings are about taking time for rest, for Sabbath restoration and healing.  Jesus says the commandment about keeping the Sabbath is a gift for US.  GOD DOESN’T NEED REST.  But God knows that WE DO.  

In a few days my edginess will dissipate.  I’ll settle down.  The shoulds won’t be so LOUD.  Let the Spirit fill your troubled heart with the same empathy and kindness I found in my pony friend.  Medication or not, it WILL see you through the rough patches and bolster your tender heart for every tomorrow. 

Resurrection on Repeat

[Jesus answered them…,] “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

John 12:24-25

Since you’re reading this, you probably ALREADY know that I suffer from anxiety, depression, etcetera.  If not, THEN, WELCOME! Thanks for coming.  FYI – I reference my own mental health and that of my loved ones alot.

Above, I have quoted a bit of scripture from the Gospel attributed to the apostle named John. HIS version of Jesus is VERY SURE of his own divinity, his mission to gather in the whole world, and his coming fate on the Cross.  I guess this isn’t my FAVORITE picture of Jesus. I prefer the human, SUFFERING servant, the ‘learn as you go’ kind of Jesus, found particularly in the Gospels of Mark and Luke. Anyway, this bit from John is PART of what I preached (I’m a pastor) about to my congregation this past Sunday.  

When MY heart HURTS, when I am awash with grief, when I feel empty or like I am sinking, I HIDE behind my academia.  I lean on my brain INSTEAD of squeezing what I CAN out of my heart. The result? Well, I have some lingering thoughts that I need to lay down.

I have read this scripture passage aloud at the interment of EVERY person I have ever buried.  I listened to my father read it over the grave of my brother who succumbed TOO SOON to his mental illness.  It is always a struggle to read these words.  

I don’t HATE my life.  That’s one of the first things people in helping professions ask – ‘do you consider harming yourself?  Do you have thoughts of ending it?’  Thankfully, so far my answer has always been a solid NO.  Sometimes I manage my mental and physical illnesses better than at OTHER times, however, I have always been able to see HOPE blossoming in my life even when I am suffering.  But, like SO MANY others with mental illness, my brother could NOT.

My 20 year old daughter who LIVES WITH mental illness IS considered cognitively and developmentally neurodiverse. She IS generally happy and stable, but, I HAVE heard her TOO MANY times say that she hates her life.  When she was very young, her tiny body would flail out violently in extended episodes of frustration and her sweet voice would cry out with disturbing AGONY. Medication changed that – but we sacrificed some of her spirit for the sake of her peace. It still troubles me.  Some choices for good, SMART.

My brother respected the church but I don’t really know if HE considered himself Christian. My daughter says she believes in God but NOT in the resurrection of Jesus.  How do my brother and daughter FIT into this ‘dying for life’ teaching?  I have a hard time seeing the fruit that has resulted from my brother’s death OR from my daughter’s hardships, let alone from the death of my Lord and Saviour, Jesus the Christ. It’s not easy for anyone to find good fruit in the rubble of pain.

Even though I am discerning, I emotionally shrink back from these confusing words and maybe you do too.  Read them again: “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” What does this mean for my brother, my daughter, and ALL of our loved ones who are at-arms-length believers?  What about those who have NEVER heard the good news?  What about those whose suffering overwhelms them into lifelong misery UNTO death?

How DO we reconcile HARD loss or the death of people we love with the bearing of God’s good fruit? How can we possibly understand what it means that Jesus endured what he did for OUR sake and that it was necessary for OUR salvation?  It’s a lot to process. How can anyone see positive fruit amidst the terrible rubble?

DON’T PANIC. Let’s focus on LOVE.  How do WE share love WITH and FOR our neighbours? Do we approach ALL people with the spirit of equality, esteem and worthiness?  How I understand it, adhering to the Christian commandments and the doctrines of the church has a place and CAN be very GOOD, but love is best when it takes center stage in our lives.  Each one of us is created from the same STUFF – earth, stars, recycled butterflies (I read this in a poem) – you know, all the ELEMENTAL particles of life.  Christians believe that ALL people are created in God’s image out of divine love.  It is a free and holy GIFT.  Love is meant for goodness and for sharing HOWEVER that translates for us as individuals.  

Many people serve the purpose of love without EVER associating it with God.   God sees the goodness of our hearts and the service we do EVEN when WE think nothing of it.  Love is God’s gift to us regardless of whether WE are conscious of it.  Our works come from the love we feel and justice we serve for the sake of our neighbours whether we say it’s in the name of Christ OR NOT.  

Andy (my husband) and I have four ‘young ADULT’ children (ages 16-20).  They are each unique and we parent each of them according to THEIR needs.  One might be super independent.  One might not be.  One might be outgoing. Another is not.  Their comfort zones and abilities are ALL different.  We fiercely love EACH and every ONE of them with our WHOLE hearts.  We adjust our parenting to best suit their INDIVIDUAL needs.  If WE can do that, and God created us, can’t we trust that God parents us in this SAME way? God loves each one of us and God relates to us each individually – SOME are ALREADY folded into the ULTIMATE Source of EVERYTHING’s’ embrace, OTHERS, God is patiently and gently DRAWING IN.  Some will not realize the fullness of God’s love until their physical life ENDS. But God is always, always, ALWAYS evolving and adjusting and working, over and OVER to bring us into a cosmic relationship with the divine mystery and with each other.  

Even I (not a green thumb) CAN understand the agricultural reference that a seed is useless until it is BURIED in soil where it will sprout and reproduce, it will burst with life, multiply and GROW.  If it is never planted it will remain just an individual seed.  The stuff about hating and loving our lives is not as cryptic as my weary heart sometimes hears it.  I looked it up.  In the original GREEK the translation for “love and hate” is a sentiment that sounds MORE like ‘favouring OR rejecting’ the ways of worldly living or ‘favouring OR rejecting’ the ways of our eternal and holy purpose, our souls.  The word ‘Life,’ you see, in Greek,  suggests MORE than the physical reality but also the BREATH, the spiritual and the eternal life force. Jesus is speaking about OUR Godsparks! (my word)

The physical world feeds our material wants and desires.  Jesus is NOT suggesting that we seek out a life of poverty or abuse. Rather, when we accept even small sacrifices for the sake of what is holy, for God’s love of ALL  people and ALL of creation, then we reject what humanity has made of the world and embrace the inbreaking realm of God with our WHOLE SELVES, with our whole heart, with our Godsparky soul.  When we hold on to the things of this world, of our lives just as they are, when we would rather maintain the status quo than RISK something new, we will remain JUST as we are. When we let go of the things of this world right now, when we let love loose and share it abundantly – that’s when we TRULY live and find love forever abiding in God.  We can choose to live in the in-breaking and everlasting realm of God TODAY, rather than WAIT for death and heaven – There’s STILL promise for those unplanted grains though!- I’ve read about seeds sprouting BUMPER crops after many many MANY years of lying DORMANT.  Hope springs eternal.  It’s NEVER too late for new life to grow – even if we DIE first.

My daughter (also 20 – twins!) and I were walking our OLD puppy girl, Tessa, the day after the EARLY warmth in March gave way BACK to wintery weather. The birds who’d all come back were visibly TICKED. Many robins took cover under our trailer, all PUFFED and angry. The bit of snow was melting rapidly as the sun came out.  Our Tessa dog walks slowly and meanders. Following her lead,  we had ample time to look around. My daughter and I saw MANY signs of spring even though the birds were on a singing STRIKE. Trees and bushes full of BUDS, some beginning to PEEK out from their protective casings, new GREEN growth on the coniferous hedges, and sprouts POKING out of the earth, some already beginning to open despite the cold and snow.

The natural world is full of resurrection on repeat. Dying and rising with the seasons. Nourishing and growing for new life over and over and over AND OVER.

There is more to death than endings.  Sharing love, sharing the spirit of love that dwells within us, sharing our Godspark – draws ALL people IN TOGETHER.  We are bonded by a mystical union. We will know ultimate love when we endeavor to understand that life belongs with death and death is a natural part of living.  We need both death and resurrection for the world to turn.  For our souls to blossom.  For our goodness to continue on through the ages.  

Jesus says – Hey, you want to see me?  I’ll tell you how you’ll see me after I’ve been lifted up in death, in resurrection, in my ascension.  You’ll SEE ME IN EACH OTHER.  I’m going to die – like the planted seed.  Don’t look for me in the ground, in the seed in the tomb.  Look for me IN the GROWING plant,  – in the full ears of grain. That’s where you’ll find me.  Look at yourself and the fruit YOU are bearing.

The fruit is meant to be  good.  We are meant to live in love and I am CONVINCED you WILL see Jesus there.  Jesus says he dies so that we can bear even better fruit.  Love lives on, in and through the generations.  Pass it on.

Which brings us back to the loving and hating our lives conundrum.  Dying to this life is an invitation into new life TODAY. Not the life WE orchestrate but the abundant life of living in God’s eternal and transcendent presence right NOW.  This death has nothing to do with the length of our physical life, but with the QUALITY of life.  It’s about living in LOVE.  Dying to our life to bear fruit and abiding within God’s FOREVER love NOW.  Our lives can be a glorious proclamation of love for God.  Even so, don’t forget that God loves everyone and everything in all of Creation NO MATTER WHAT.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus explains that seeking him, seeing him, does NOT mean avoiding pain and death. INSTEAD, we can choose to trust that God WILL bring about LIFE. We may not be able to avoid suffering, but we can cling to Jesus’ promise that he WILL light our paths toward LIFE.  Jesus describes the CROSS as the gathering place for agony, glory, unity, and communion: “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.”  Jesus willingly took the violence, the contempt, and the hatred of THIS world into HIS body, his sacrifice.   He held on to his message of UNIVERSAL love, grace, and liberation, knowing full well that the message would cost him his life.  He loved and he loved and he LOVED, all the way to his physical, bodily end and continues to LOVE US – IN, WITH, and THROUGH US. The SPIRIT of Jesus DWELLS in each one of us. We’ve ALL got that mysterious Godspark that love ignites in our souls.

Jesus loves me whether I love or NOT.  Jesus loves you too, and Jesus loves my late brother and Jesus loves my daughter.  It’s challenging sometimes, especially on those low days where depression grips HARD –  but I choose to use my wavering trust to REMEMBER that Jesus wishes to see me — to see ALL of us — far more urgently than we’ll EVER long to see him.  This is my REFUGE and the promise I clutch to myself through the HURT.  We love because he loves first.  The cross pulls us toward God and toward each other whether we KNOW it or WANT it because, in the end- we ALL belong to God, the Creator, the ultimate source of everything, and WE are ALL a part of the mystery of the vastness of the COSMOS within God’s ever-EXPANDING circle of life and LOVE. 

 

Rainbow Ties

So, I’m writing about my mental health AGAIN. Not to worry, please. I AM OKAY.  I forgot about the Family Day holiday and failed to refill my medications – so I’m NAKED (figuratively). For some reason, the pharmacy DOES NOT give out medical narcotics in large quantities (I know, right?) so it’s easy to suddenly run out if I get distracted. I’m off kilter TODAY but I know THIS, at least, is temporary.

It’s too bad that I am  currently in the middle of an EXTENDED mood episode. Depression is a strange beast.  I shut off and fly on autopilot through my necessary working hours – a hollow puppet of myself entertaining my audience with laughter and fabricated presence. People are cared for, sermons get written. I am thankful for every POSITIVE moment. When I’m like this, my whole self is not required to get it done. But, without my WHOLE self, tasks and interpersonal work are lacklustre. 

This depressive state bleeds into ALL the nooks and crannies of my life – my family sees the worst of IT.

All it takes is one little stressor – a WORD. A LOOK. A THOUGHT. A BAD DREAM. A DISAPPOINTMENT. A REJECTION. A reaction from someone else I CAN’T control. My mood plummets.

It starts as a sweeping SADNESS that pushes behind my eyes, threatening tears.  My chest becomes FULL with melancholy.  In the pit of my BEING, grows a feeling of DREAD. My stomach reacts with nausea. Terrible mournfulness reaches up to SQUEEZE at my lungs, shortens my breaths, makes me gasp in the air, and the tears escape. My head becomes a pressure pot and my body dejected,  my spirit broken.  What begins as a quick change in mood SITS for hours, days, weeks, months. Immovable depression.

But LIFE moves on. I take on the semblance of myself and ride it out. There’s NOTHING I can do to appease the monsters of anxiety, shame, guilt, and anger.

I’ve learned to hide it. To smile. To DO the THINGS. But when I’m in their grip, I know they are just waiting to launch another direct attack when I’m ALONE.

Before I knew about mood disorders, I thought I was just weird. I’m STILL weird, but now it has nothing to do with my mental illness. I don’t know if that’s positive or negative.

Several weeks ago I saw a beautiful rainbow over Lake Huron while I was driving to a meeting.  I was already into this bout of depression. There had been DAYS upon days of sunless, drab and dreary, rainy weather. The bow in the sky came with the first SUNSHINE in a long time. Everyone at the meeting was commenting on it.

Later I read multiple social media posts and saw a number of pictures of that SAME rainbow, a sign in the sky pointing to our intrinsic connection to each other and the planet.  Images were shared from ALL OVER the county of Huron. It was remarkable to see the excitement and the relief found in a SHARED experience of beauty. Its profundity wasn’t lost on my depression.

We were talking about it that night as I was tucking my neurodivergent, now 20 year old daughter into bed. I ACCIDENTALLY leaned in to kiss her and quickly pulled away when I realized my mistake. She HASN’T allowed that kind of touch since she was a small child. But she said, “It’s okay, Mommy, you can kiss me”. RAINBOW MAGIC. The holiest of moments come UNBIDDEN.

I think this depression is beginning to lift. I wanted to write about the rainbow almost a month ago. Last night a friend told me she’d seen a picture of me on Facebook and she thought I looked powerful.  POWERFUL.  Her words SHOOK my tired bones. The image was from Sunday’s video. I was preaching about our solidarity as God’s children, Christ dwelling in us and through us at our best moments AND in our dejection. So many people, so much hurting, and so much LOVE to share. A thousand years are like one day in eternity.  Perspective is everything. In a world full of ALL the things, rainbow connections are still beautiful and sacred. Thanks be to God.

Starshine

The Friday before the  New 2024 Year celebration was the twelfth and FINAL day of Christmas. The following Sunday was the Epiphany, commemorating the arrival of distinguished foreigners from the East, who were WISE in watching the sky and attuned to ancient prophecy. They made it  to Bethlehem, where they finally set eyes on the child whose birth was signaled by the appearance of a PECULIAR star.  The star remained and burned brightly above the infant Jesus. A sign of wonder to behold. 

Although Christmastide has ended it is still the season after Epiphany – a season of revelation and discovery before we delve into observing Christ’s road to a cross, a story of suffering and salvation through him.   

For a while now, I’ve been reflecting on the entirety of  the yuletide season. As I’ve gotten a LITTLE older, I am learning to accept that nothing EVER goes exactly as planned.  Personally, Christmas has never really been the same since my brother’s 2012, November passing.

Each year, as I begin to pull out our Christmas decorations, I think about HIS funeral because it corresponds with THAT TIME. We were in Orleans, Ontario at the Lutheran Church of the Resurrection. The WHOLE chancel area behind the altar, the focal point of the worship service,  is surrounded by floor to ceiling clear WINDOWS. It felt like we were sitting outside among the trees.  

As my Pastor father preached it began to snow the FIRST snow of the season.  It wasn’t a gentle, slow, large flaked, magical snowfall, rather, it blew VIOLENTLY, harder and harder as my father spoke, as if God was making a nod to my brother’s adventurous and turbulent spirit, a final, gusty and powerful leave- taking.  It FELT like my brother’s spirit was WITH us.  It STILL FEELS LIKE his spirit is WITH us.  I’ve heard countless stories of felt presence of loved ones passed – butterflies, cardinals, feathers, unexpected items reappearing from nowhere.   And WHY NOT?  The spirit that dwells in each of us is ETERNAL.  Signs and wonders to behold.

The STAR at Jesus’ birth was a sign pointing to the wonder of God’s PRESENCE born among us.  This SAME presence is ALWAYS with us. That’s what Jesus promises.  We are never alone.  The Holy Spirit fills us, teaches us, accompanies us, and guides us.  The spirit dwells IN us. Christmas tends to heighten my awareness of Christ’s indwelling, the Holy Spirit that fans the flame of my soul, and is part of my Christ-mind, my inner Godspark.

Two thousand years ago, John the Baptist, who was renowned for his preaching, and later for preparing the world for the expected Messiah, baptized people with WATER a sign of REPENTANCE.  John encouraged people to look their sin in the eye and make the CHOICE to grow past it.

To repent, in Christian terms, means to intentionally change your mind and turn around, to head in a NEW direction that contributes to an ever better and more intimate relationship with God.  For me, this suggests choosing to notice the voice of the Holy Spirit calling to me from WITHIN myself.

Christians believe that during baptism the extraordinary Holy Spirit enters into ordinary water and washes all our sins away with a promise that we are God’s children, adopted to continue the work of Christ in God’s ongoing creation, and that we will be forgiven whenever we repent and turn to God in truth and hope. 

We consider baptism a divine gift. Not everyone has the OPPORTUNITY or the WILL to receive this gift. Not everyone who IS baptized recognizes or chooses to unwrap and embrace the indwelling quality of the Holy Spirit.  Life itself comes from being FILLED with the breath, the holy wind, the Spirit of God. It’s what ANIMATES us at the moment of our creation.  The presence of the Holy Spirit is NATURALLY in ALL of us, baptized or not.  Baptism can give us the special ability and the will to seek and perpetuate our own sacred origins.

What animates YOU? What do you equate with signs of divine sparks dwelling in you?  The Spirit burns from within. Sometimes we feel the urgency. Sometimes we simply see the glow and feel the WARMTH.

In spite of all the things that didn’t happen the way they were planned this Christmas- Jesus’ paradise approaches.  It GLIMMERS. The Holy Spirit keeps on showing up.  That warm, loving, energized feeling of hope BURSTING forth from our own inner depths – awakened countless times in me over the last month or so.  

When sharing a meal, my son carefully cut a piece of lemon meringue pie for my neurodiverse daughter, who lives with MANY challenges.  He gently invited her to try to pick it up and put it on her plate because, “I really think you can do it yourself. It’s all lined up. Give it a try.  Here’s a good fork. I’ll standby in case you need help.”  And she DID IT!  My son empowered her with KINDNESS.  The magnitude of this moment may escape you but it overwhelms ME with spiritual glimmers of gratitude, hope, love and even joy. Into THIS mother’s arguing, disappointed, shame filled and exhausted heart, the Spirit WELLS up and whispers something new.   A NEW dawn on a familiar journey.  The WILL to keep going. It changes everything from the inside out. 

At my church, it was the first time since Christmas 2019 that Christmas Eve service was in person or not stormed out.  A flush of gladness swept through me at the sight of a full church, families united, children now grown, and hushed Candlelight.  

These moments of CONNECTION, belonging, familiarity – that’s the Spirit pulling us together HEART to HEART. When we see the dignity of one another- that IS divine recognition from within. Signs of wonder. They refresh us.

In the year ahead, we can embrace a little bit of the freshness of something new.  We are gathered together and brooded over in HOLY ways we cannot understand.  The sacred moves US to create hope in ways we cannot understand.  

We are the holy undivided family that encommpasses the whole of creation.  We come from the same source, we BELONG to one another.  How will we reach out to help others move away from lives of falseness, hate, and hurt and be restored to the way of truth and love?  How will we invite them into repentance, reparation, and reconciliation?  How will we work together to create a future based on mutual care, liberty and justice?  Can we listen to one another with LOVE this year? I think that renewal, the opening of hearts to the divine, IS the WAY to restore ALL parts of the Creator’s beloved community.  Can we remember that we are still washed in STARSHINE, born from unfathomable POWER and filled with holy light that SHINES ever brighter as we SHARE it? I hope this year that YOU will behold the signs and wonders of divine love that shine brightly and eternally.  Check out the night sky and watch the hidden tenderness of humanity. Signs and wonders ARE everywhere.

Practicing Peace

Casting negativity is my coping ‘GO TO’.  If something hurts, I accept it, but with a certain degree of self-blame.  If something feels good, I don’t know what to do with it so I PICK it apart until it SMARTS. Being conscious of this is a God-given gift that might, eventually, help me embrace that  I’m simply a HUMAN BEING, experiencing the peculiarities of humanity.

A member of my congregation stood on my porch with a holiday gift.  The gift was very much appreciated but his WORDS took me by surprise.  He said, “There’s something DIFFERENT about you. You’ve changed. I don’t know exactly how, but it is all positive. You are having a revitalizing effect on people.”

Wait, WHAT? I’ve been thinking about this for days. Of course my mind pulls me to an accusatory position.  ‘What was WRONG with me before? What if I can’t live up to his expectations?’ The pressure is ON. 

But, what if he’s right?

I agree that something HAS changed. It didn’t occur to me that others might perceive it while I’m not even sure of it myself.

A number of months ago I made a BIG decision to STOP the search for that ‘one more START-OVER place’ to add to the list of parishes served before I reach a reasonable retirement age.  I have 10-15 years+ – plenty of time regardless of HOW it all pans out.

I’d had a rough go with depression and my personal family side of things.  During THAT time, my congregation started a ‘VISIONING’ project in which I felt some insecurity and realized I do not have 100% support from EVERYONE I serve.  Ingredients for a perfect internal storm.

A couple dissenting voices ring so much LOUDER and linger WAY longer than dozens of affirmations.  My innermost self has an overwhelming need to be accepted, to please people.  The naysayers hurt my ego RATHER DRAMATICALLY.  Cue the downward spiral.

It took awhile.  Horror. Anger. Lashing out. Blaming. Self punishment. These ALWAYS come first.  After a time I settled down. I decided, church aside, to focus on what feels RIGHT for my family.

I can’t put my finger on an EXACT time, but I knew the Spirit was with me,  poured into me, CRADLED me, consoled me, and re-lit my inner soul fire, my Godspark, and with it came a NEW peace with myself and with my life.  That must be what my kind parishioner was talking about.  Peace begets peace.  It SPREADS.

I continue to struggle with depression. There’s a pill for that.  Even so, I have felt noticeably LESS concerned for how people feel about me in general.  Perhaps I’ve simply started to grow up. MATURITY is setting in. I’m savouring moments MORE than dissecting them.  I’m throwing caution to the wind and allowing my TRUER self OUT – the power tripping jerks have problems of their own.  Sometimes I’ll get caught in the crossfire.  NO ONE is 100% of everything necessary for EVERYONE.

Life is full of learning. I’m grateful for the opportunity.  God is GOOD. May we look forward with HOPE and live graciously and GENTLY with one another.

Barrage Busting

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:13-14

My Dad used to say I was happiest when I was miserable.  I’m NOT saying he was right, but maybe I am MORE comfortable in the FAMILIAR terrain of misery than I am in unfettered happiness. It IS a TASK to ALWAYS be on guard, trying to present an acceptable picture of myself and my family – ESPECIALLY during the holidays.  The inner struggle to appear conventional and meet social standards is MORE exhausting than surrender. But it’s how I roll.

I’ve already hoisted the drawbridge and covered the peek holes.  I’m determined to balk the barrage of uninvited speculation that I already IMAGINE is heading my way. This is a classic defense mechanism. WALL UP.  My counter attack is being RESENTFUL and DEFENSIVE.  Isn’t that precious?

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It’s NOT what some may think. I do LOVE and cherish connecting with family, friends, and my parishioners during the Holy weeks of Christmastide.  It’s my OWN preconception that I’m being judged, being deemed unacceptable or somehow insufficient, that DOES ME IN. 

I hope I don’t come off as being full of myself or conceited – I NEED others to LIKE me and AFFIRM me CONSTANTLY.   But are people REALLY looking THAT closely? I am mortified by any HINT of disapproval that I expect from others as they survey the chaos of my life, my parenting, my marriage. I cross my fingers and hope they know that we are UNIQUE. There’s nothing wrong with being unique! You can’t equate apples to oranges or sugar plums to lemons, right?

Stopping the bombardment of GUILT and negativity is difficult territory, especially for people like me who have just ENOUGH self doubt to REALLY engage in a battle between personal truth and conjecture.

The ANNUAL Christmas FAILURES began a couple Sundays ago.  I forgot to charge the phone used to record our church services and WILDLY ran home in a panic (across the street) to rip the charger away from my unsuspecting daughter in order to give the device 15 minutes of JUICE before the ushers would come looking for it.

I’d totally forgotten about flowers that had been tucked into the fridge.  DEAD funeral flowers are NO JOKE. Especially since they were saved to honour a church matriarch one last time.  ALL the FEELINGS. I gave the ushers the WRONG hymn numbers to post, causing mayhem.

I forgot to remind someone to light the altar candles, so they were lit WELL into the service. One child asked if she could be EXCUSED from MY children’s message. How cute.

My sermon was long-winded and I could see people drifting. The stole I wear, symbolizing the heavy yoke of Christ as he carried the cross kept slipping off my shoulders until I got SO annoyed that I whipped it OFF and threw it on my chair. I was out of breath.  After service, when the robe came off and I was walking through the hallway, I found that my fly was UNDONE.  

At coffee hour I noticed the unwoven ends of my sweater HANGING out.  It was a sweater I made – screaming out a message of my CLEAR incompetency.  Hmm.  Unwoven ends.  I like that as a metaphor.

Later that day the local churches were having a live Nativity with REAL animals and costumed kids acting out the Christmas story. I was in charge. My help couldn’t make it. LOTS of people dropped out sick. SO – LAST minute EVERYTHING. Me and my new volunteer helper ended up as part of the costumed troupe. We were standing next to our little holy family, she an angel and me a shepherd, directly BEHIND the rear end of a cow. We were in REAL danger of getting pooed on the WHOLE time. I swore under my breath hoping no one could hear me and I wouldn’t be struck down. That day required extra anxiety pills and MULTIPLE pep talks. 

Shortly after this I became ill (SURPRISE!)  and had no choice but to ASK for help to finish up pre-Christmas visits and cheer basket deliveries. I didn’t JUST feel judged. I felt GUILTY and ANGRY at myself and anyone who dared say a word about it.

Shame, Shame, SHAME.

It continues at home.

We spend a small FORTUNE on vet bills – so what’s happening? What am I doing WRONG? In a matter of days, the cat started puking, UNNATURALLY, and repeatedly and our old dog started to veer OFF the tracks and was acting FUNNY.  Is that ICH disease on the angel fish? WHY is there blood in the guinea pig cage? The gerbils attacked and wounded each other AGAIN. The giant snail retracted into its shell, is it dying? Is it dead? I dunno. It really looks kinda dead…

Everyday I fight with myself about all the ‘SHOULDS’ my teens would need to meet in order to fit into the social norm of their age groups. For instance, they should

-be done school by now

-drive

-socialize

-know life skills

-be practicing life skills

-be working

-be cleaning, helping, doing little things for themselves

-wear typical clothing, or at least something more than pajamas

-go to church (mine)

-be confirmed (me again)

-have FAITH (again, this one is my hang up) 

-understand the value of money – everything is NOT disposable

-see doctors, dentists, hairdressers by their OWN volition

Although I DON’T necessarily AGREE with everything on this list, being AWARE this list exists is a crushing blow to my mothering skills.

SPEAKING of SHAME, my children Should NOT

-See my husband and I  fighting or hear us shouting

-Know our debt, or our problems

-Parent us

-Mediate between us

HUMILIATING.

I have plenty of reasons to stay AWAY from family gatherings.

Our kids DON’T have proper attire for church, sleep, winter, or even daytime. We can’t afford it (due to our insane pet related bills! They eat BETTER and have better health care than we do!)

The animals are impossible to care for when traveling. I have FEELINGS about asking anyone to pet sit for us.

Our Truck is too SMALL for us.  But it’s what we have.

We can’t take the Trailer because it is STILL in disrepair.

We can’t have people OVER because we CAN’T hire a housekeeper,  because we CAN’T  get the house in order WELL enough to let someone ELSE try.

Everything is broken or garbage. Our refrigerator and pantry are gambles I suggest you DON’T take.

Andy and I don’t get enough sleep or enough time alone.  

All this self-assumed inadequacy wreaks havoc on our family’s 

Mental health. Anxiety, Anger. Impatience. Poor communication.  It all LEADS to feeling belittled and unheard, blaming and resentment. A TOXIC cocktail of pain and disgust. I dissociate.  I binge. I shut down and shut out. We ALL have our own crutches.

Tis’ the season. I read somewhere that animals NEED winter in order to rejuvenate, heal, and grow, many in the darkness of hibernation or brumation.  It said something about how people could EMBRACE this time too. To dismiss the distractions of the bright light.  We winter by hunkering down. We are drawn to warm blankets, hot drinks and cozy fires. It CAN be a time to dig deep. To REFLECT on the past and look forward to the potential of the future.  It is a time for REST and for waiting.

Sometimes I wonder what God was up to ordaining the likes of me to share the good news of God’s new and growing creation. To preach about the goodness of life and the power of humility and love. To take YOUR hand, give it a squeeze and remind YOU that you are NOT alone.

God is with us NOW just as God has ALWAYS been.  We remember the dark, dank, messy birth of Jesus, Mary’s resolve, strength, and resilience, Joseph’s humility, patience and love of God.  

In the midst of guilt, shame, and complicated human relationships, Jesus was born.   Our brains and bodies belong to God who KNOWS us and LOVES us and CELEBRATES our UNIQUENESS and our SACREDNESS. No problem is TOO big, no hurt TOO overwhelming that God will abandon you. I know this to be TRUE because God has walked beside me through all the corners of HELL.

I hope that this year we will walk together somewhere more pleasant. 

Misery loves company because the company of misery is God.

Blessings friends, and great BIG ((HUGS)).

Your Slip Is Showing

Oversharing is NOT a trait restricted to Borderline Personality Disorder.  I’m pretty sure EVERYONE does it.  BPD MAYBE gives me an exaggerated tendency to talk about myself.  When I’m uncomfortable, I’m silent. BUT when I loosen up or feel especially daring (or want attention), it’s blah blah blah, BLAH,  BLAH – TOO MUCH information. I HAD a friend once who, when I got out of hand, said  ‘Nadine – your slip is showing.”  You know the HORROR of tucking your skirt in your pantihoes or your slip hanging out from beneath your dress? – THAT’S how she reined me in – by reminding me that I was EMBARRASSING myself. 

Back in the day, I drank to curb my social anxiety. It was TOO MUCH and I went way TOO FAR.  Luckily, disease forced me to kick that habit.  I never used to remember EXACTLY WHAT kind of foolishness I spewed or risky behaviour I’d tried to TEMPORARILY boost my ego.  Yes, I’m STILL in therapy.  

I don’t show people my underwear or discuss explicit ‘none of your business’ kind of stuff in search of acceptance anymore, but I STILL overshare.  After such an episode I PANIC.  Did I say TOO much?  Will that come back to BITE me?  WHY did I say THAT?  What’s WRONG with me? CAN I TRUST THIS person or THESE people?  For the love of God, NADINE, you KNOW better!  I constantly cut myself down in the RAW feeling of the aftermath.  I feel like I’ve wounded my very soul.

Yup, I see the irony that this blog is all about me and my inward struggles.  Why not find ONE person to talk to rather than telling all to the ether of cyberspace? I don’t know. I’ve got issues and I’m too tired to judge my decisions. It’s also ironic that I’m a minister. I stand in front of my church and am pointed out and asked to say something in social situations SO OFTEN that it’s a wonder I haven’t been locked up.

Finding and nurturing healthy relationships is REALLY REALLY HARD WORK.  I turn to things like the internet where I can say the things that I WANT certain people to know without ACTUALLY telling them. I’m in a public job so I can FEEL LIKE I am likable and BELONG even while I’m depressed and lonely.

Sad. I know it. Awareness is everything.  I know more today than that kid I was 30 years ago. She was a certifiable MESS who created reasons for friends to disappear.  I’m still a mess, but a MATURE one.  I know to seek help and I’m learning to notice the people who stick by me even when I am TOO MUCH.  

Today, I just want to say THANK YOU – to all the people who are willing to stick around and gently remind people LIKE me when our slip is showing. You are the BEST.  Praise to the Lord Almighty! Can I hear an AMEN?

Plates in the Air

FUN

Hey, it’s me. I’ve been in an exhausting battle with my demons for several WEEKS now. I know this might surprise a few of you who know me personally. I’m an AMAZING actress.

It’s hard – life is hard. SO hard. It’s trying to balance plates on your head kind of HARD. Have you seen that? Those talented ones who can catch and hold plates – DOZENS of them- spinning, sliding, almost slipping off, all moving this way and that whilst being expertly balanced on the head of a guy on a unicycle. HARD. Me? ME? I would drop the first plate. NO. I would fall off of the unicycle before the first plate was tossed my way. NO. I’m the plate that was missed and lies shattered on the floor.

Coming up for air in this mess of a world is a REAL struggle. For a few weeks, depression has kept me in its grip – so much so that in actuality it felt like I was on the WRONG end of a telescope – you know – if you put the wrong end to your eye everything looks so, so, SO, very far away instead of magnified. Everything has been out of reach, and all I could do was PRETEND I was really present. Dissociation NUMBS and convinces you that nothing matters. It’s a surreal play, a show that I wade through with big, inappropriately loud laughter, smiles ’til Tuesday, joviality – and the DEEPEST sadness, an empty, LONELY despair of just being.

Alone. I feel ALONE in the midst of lively family chaos. I feel misunderstood. Devalued. Angry. SO ANGRY.

These are my worst demons. Feeling abandoned and alone. Being angry and misunderstood. HATING that I hate myself for HATING myself.

Week upon week. Depression. Pulling myself up by my bootstraps. Keeping up with the flow – because LIFE.

I LOVE my life. My teenage children bring me JOY. Having fun with people, hobbying, caring for my congregation – JOY. Being out in nature, observing the stars – JOY. Caressing the ponies – JOY. My dog is my Bliss. JOY. Yet – YET – yet – depression catches me in its heartless web and convinces me that my joy is NOT real or not DESERVED or is about to END. For me, depression expresses itself as GRIEF. I have been in a suffocating state of mourning.

As the days go by, I am feeling less sad – although anything can SQUASH my progress. I think I can write sermons again – it’s been a disaster for several Sundays – a catastrophic stream of discombobulated words, words to bring love and comfort from the depths of my wounded heart.

If you feel like me, know that I AM rooting for you. TRULY, I am. To everyone else – if you notice us, LOVE us. We need you. Whoever you are, I’m praying for you and for this damnedable world. Mental health is a stepping stone to physical and spiritual wellness. Take GOOD CARE.