A Little Side Trip on the Crazy Train

At the last stop I got off and boarded the crazy train. Not by choice. I think I was just going to the gift shop at the train station to restock on chocolate and got on the wrong train. This one is terrible and the sound of the wheels against the track is like a voice that tells me this fight is pointless. I've tried everything I can to combat this anxiety and depression. Eating healthy within my limited food budget, exercise daily, drink lots of green tea, none of these things seem to be helping. I've lost all but one of my friends, this is the one tough time they couldn't seem to stick through. I've been told to stop feeling sorry for myself, to make the choice to feel better and that has only left me more alone. This is not a choice. Trust me, who would choose to feel like this?! Two years ago on the 23rd of this month a dear friend of ours committed suicide. At the time I could not imagine why he would do such a thing. His business was successful, he was surrounded by loving family. I understand so much better now. Sometimes when I'm not in crazy mode and I feel almost close to normal I can still feel it, like an itch, in the back of my mind. A watchfulness, wondering what is the next thing to set me off, when am I going to feel that awful anxiety again? Anxiety is such a tame word for it. It is a terror, a horror, and because it is inside of your mind you can't escape it no matter what you do. I've been reading two books during this time: the bible and Thornyhold by Mary Stewart. I've read that book about two dozen times in the last few months. While reading either one I achieve a quasi-calm. I read a daily devotion from In Touch Ministries (www.intouch.org) and follow up with Psalm 118 and Matthew 11:28-30 then I just flip through until something catches my eye. I have a lot of passages highlighted and tons of bookmarks in my bible so I often turn to something that has brought me peace before.
Recently I was allowed to go through some of the old family photos. I found a few pictures of myself as a little girl. I was not a happy child. Solitary and lonely, always daydreaming, so different from my family. Most of the pictures show me with a small, forced smile. I felt unloved and knew that it was true. One of the biggest revelations in my life has been that I have spent my life looking for love and approval, never to find it. I didn't remember my mother, my father was too busy with my brothers and my stepmother was every kind of evil stepmom cliche' rolled into one. Do you know what it does to a person when the people that are supposed to love them do not? You look for love, everywhere.
I grew up in a fire and brimstone church and heard the phrase "God'll get you for that" often. I developed a fearful relationship with God, with which I still struggle. Over time though I have come to realize that all the love, all the parental guidance and approval I have longed for is available to me through God, my father. Because He is, indeed, my father. And yours. He isn't sitting up on some cloud looking down and saying "Okay, if she messes up one more time I'm really going to give it to her!" It took me a long time to figure that out - though I still have those irrational fears in the back of my mind.
One day, though, while looking through the bible I found a passage that gave me such a wonderful look at God as a father that I not only underlined the passage but I got out my yellow highlighter and then added a bookmark to the page. I turn to it often:

Hosea 11:1-4

When Israel was a child, I loved him

and out of Egypt I called my son.

But the more I called Israel

the further they went from me.

They sacrificed to the Baals

and they burned incense to images.

It was I who taught Ephraim to walk,

taking them by the arms;

but they did not realize

it was I who healed them.

I led them with cords of human kindness,

with ties of love;

I lifted the yoke from their neck

and bent down to feed them.

Such a wonderful image of a dedicated, loving father desperately trying to help His children. Even if you didn't grow up with parents that loved you, you still did, because God has always been your father. And mine. I think about that a lot lately, and I turn to my father in these dark times. I know He is there, I know. But so often I still feel alone in the dark. But I read those words in Hosea and I think that maybe as much as I am struggling, He is trying to help me. I hope so, I really need the help right now. 

Third Stop: The Neighbor's House. Population: Everyone

     Before we lost our house it was the place to be during the summer - at least for all the neighborhood kids. We had a three lane slip-n-slide as well as a Banzai skimboard surfer slip-n-slide that you took a run up and jumped on this little board and tried (though rarely successfully) to stay on your feet down the length of the slide. I cooked out every afternoon. During sudden rain showers we would all gather on the porch and I'd pass out little cups of ice cream, the kind with the wooden spoons. Evenings were filled with flashlight hide and seek and sparklers. We had some epic Nerf battles and plenty of grade school drama. It was a nice neighborhood and everyone got on well together, for the most part. Here in the complex we don't really know most of our neighbors. There was a murder soon after we moved in, and then another, so we keep to ourselves. Who are your neighbors? Do you host dinner parties for them? Have backyard barbecues, feel comfortable running over for a cup of sugar? Maybe you don't know them very well, maybe you just wave when you see each other but couldn't place them if you met up at the grocery store.

     Jesus instructed us in Mark 12:31 to love our neighbors as ourselves. And He didn't just mean the guy across the street that doesn't close his robe when he goes out for his morning paper. Or the sweet old lady down the block that always has a wave and a smile. He meant everyone. Everyone is our neighbor. Every. Single. Person. And we are supposed to love them. And yet, the world is full of hate. We hate each other over something as ridiculous as skin color, we fight each other over cultural choices, we despise each other over financial status, we fling hate at each other over sexual orientation. And everyone has a reason, some foundation for their hate that they feel is absolutely justifiable. But hate is wrong, always.Sometimes, as we are not perfect, we can't always help it. I'll freely admit that I hate my ex-husband. It is something I'm working on, but I'm so very much not there yet. People hurt us, or they hurt someone we love, they do something truly evil and we hate them for it. It's something to work on. But when you pick and choose bits of the bible to support your hate and attempt to make it acceptable, I have to draw the line. I have absolutely no idea how many times Jesus admonished us to love each other, but He said it a lot. In fact, love was kind of his theme: 'Love me, love God, love your enemies, love everyone'. And He didn't just say it, He showed it. Time and again Jesus taught by example. In Luke 14:13-14 Jesus tells us to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, to our banquet. Well, you can just substitute any word for banquet because He means to include them, to treat them equally. And then in Luke 15: 1-2, He does just that. Jesus is hanging out with tax collectors and other "sinners". Jesus is teaching them, speaking with them, treating them as equals, as He instructed us to do ourselves. Jesus never saw poor people dressed in dirty rags, He saw brothers and sisters, children of God. Think about that. Whenever I get really negative about my ex-husband, I remind myself of that - he is a child of God. We all are. God made each of us, God LOVES EACH OF US. So when we exclude others, when we look down at others, we are doing that to someone God loves. Imagine someone treating a child of yours that way! And I don't care what "sin" YOU feel they committed. That isn't up to you to decide or judge. Jesus was very clear: love one another. In Matthew 5: 43-47 Jesus tells us to love our enemies. Be kind to them. Don't just love the people that love you, don't just be kind to those that are kind to you. Love everyone, be kind to everyone. Seriously, I've got to go through the New Testament and count how many times He tells us this.
     Lately the news has been filled with hate for the poor and homeless and most of that hate is coming from "Christians". That absolutely baffles me! With so many clear admonishes to love everyone, how exactly are we justifying so much hate? I am continually shocked at the vitriol directed toward the homeless. Why? When my children and I were homeless we met a lot of lovely people in the same situation. They weren't on drugs, they weren't sitting around being lazy while trying to take your hard earned money. They were regular people, hard workers, most of them homeless because they had been hit with a medical condition that drained their finances, left them struggling. What is their sin, exactly? I am reminded of a news article about a wealthy community that called the police because they thought a homeless person was sleeping on a bench in front of their church. Turns out it was a statue of Jesus that had been donated. But those church goers were horrified at the thought that some "street person" might be hanging out by their church. They weren't moved with compassion to help this person, they wanted to banish him. I have a feeling Jesus was not in attendance at their service, He was clearly not invited.
     I get it, I really do. That whole "love everyone" thing is a lot harder than Jesus made it seem. I mean, He's the son of God. He's love and light. He looked at the people around Him with only hope and compassion. We struggle with loving ourselves, even with loving the people that love us, so of course we struggle with loving people that are different than us. But make no mistake, that is our assignment. That is the whole meaning of life, in case you've been wondering about that: Love God and love each other. And when you give it a little thought, it really is that simple. The next time you feel like being unkind, losing your patience, making a snarky comment, remember that the object of your hate is a child of God, wholly and completely loved by our Creator, and your brother or sister in this family of God's. And then. . . choose love.

Matthew 11:28-29

     The last few days have been quite a struggle for me. When the sun comes up, I feel such relief - I made it through the night. I don't sleep a lot anymore, I'm up all night. I used to be up all night because my daughter, Bee, needed me to turn her, or change her diaper, put more food in her bag, give her meds or a breathing treatment. I still do all of that stuff but after 20 years it is routine. Now, I don't sleep because the anxiety has my nerves stretched to the breaking point. Before the last few months I'd have said I was well acquainted with stress, anxiety and depression. Twenty years as my daughters' only caregiver has certainly given me more than a passing relationship with them. But I have discovered that I knew absolutely nothing about true depression and anxiety, until recently. I have been guilty of losing my patience with friends that seem to stay in their depressions, that stress out over simple things until they take to their couch in a fit of nerves. I've been guilty of saying inane things like "Start your day off with good thoughts" and "You have to choose to be happy" and other rather foolish things. I see a pattern in my life of judgement. I think that is one of the lessons I'm supposed to learn in this life: do not judge.
     In high school my best friend became pregnant. I didn't see her for several months and when I did, I was shocked that she had gained so much weight. It wasn't just pregnancy weight, it was what-have-I-done-to-my-life weight. I made some flippant comments about her weight and never knew, until much later, how much they hurt her. Fast forward a few years and I became pregnant with my first child. I was somewhere between 100 and 108 pounds when I became pregnant. In fact, I'd always been underweight, my whole life. But by the time I gave birth I had gained 100 pounds. The doctors couldn't figure out why, they ran every test, monitored my food. Now, I know why.
     A few years later when my son was about eight a friend was struggling with her teenage son. He had pushed her several times, screamed at her, had become belligerent and distant. My son and I spent all of our time together talking, playing games, reading together. We were very close. I offered my friend advice that was laced with criticism about her son and his behavior. I was certain that my son would not behave that way as a teenager and I thought I knew exactly what she should do. Fast forward eight years and my son is a moody teenager that has, occasionally, yelled at me, He slams doors, stays in his room most of the time and rarely speaks to me. He's a good kid going through a rough time.
     A few years later I have a couple of friends that deal with anxiety and depression. While I have always tried to be supportive, send cards, call, check up on them, I've always been right there with the silly platitudes that I thought were so helpful, so spot on. I did not understand true depression and anxiety, I did not understand what it feels like inside. How you just can't stand being inside your own head anymore. How you try, you do, you surround yourself with "happy" things, you get up and try to do all the positive things that should make the days and nights better . .  but they don't. And then you discover how very alone you are in your depression and anxiety, and just how much those silly comments hurt, how they leave you alone in your darkness and throw in guilt for good measure. Mostly, I have found that not only have my friends left me in my darkness but they trivialize it. Oh, don't get me wrong, they are good women. But they make some truly devastating comments, as I did in the past.
     Tonight I sat here drinking tea, looking at the clock, praying for the sun to come up, that I could get through another long night. I had some of those "why me" moments. I thought about a Christian radio program I heard once. A woman remarked to her father that she found his ability to sympathize with his congregation was remarkable, and that she wished she could connect with others that way. She admitted that she often lost patience with people, could not step into their shoes and understand their pain. Then one day she became ill. She was, eventually, diagnosed with a terrible illness that would only grow worse as time went on. On the day of the radio broadcast she said that God had answered her request to be more like her father. She found that her ability to connect, her compassion for others, had grown. During my long night tonight I thought about that, and hoped that one day I could help others, that my struggles have a purpose. Because in this darkness I sometimes have such moments of clarity and I realize that my life is so pointless, that time is a heavy burden, that life is monotonous. No, those things are not true, but they feel so true when I'm on my knees and know that I can't hold on much longer.
     Every single day I read Matthew 11: 28-29. I'm so grateful that Jesus understood how tiring living can be. That everything can weigh you down so much that you can't move another step forward. I don't like to think about what happened to Jesus that gave Him such insight but I am so grateful He made a point to encourage us and give us hope, to do the one thing it seems no one else can do - sit in the dark with us so that we are not alone.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 

     The Great Physician, offering healing to broken souls.

Second Stop: Loneliness. Population: Me . . . and Jesus

     Growing up in a houseful of brothers all several years older than myself, I spent a lot of time alone at home. Picked on at school, I spent most of my time alone there as well. Lonely became comfortable, safe. Each time I tried to reach out I would end up with another broken piece of my heart in my outstretched hands. I was always hopeful though. I dreamed of a warm, loving family. Close girlfriends and sleepovers. We had several board games at home and I usually played them by myself, hoping someone in my family would come along and take pity on me. I was desperate enough to be willing to accept a pity game but they never joined so I played alone. I grew up and married a man much older than myself who traveled for work. He'd fly all over the country, was gone for months at a time. Our daughter was born with severe disabilities and the few friends I had at the time were so uncomfortable they stopped coming over. Once again, I was alone most of the time. I actually looked forward to the many hospital stays. There was a sense of community within the pediatric ward at the hospital. Eventually my son was born and I wasn't so alone anymore. As he grew we spent a lot of time reading together, playing board games. I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed buying his first board game! Within a few years we had a walk-in closet dedicated to board games. Now that he is a teenager though, he spends most of his time in his room with the door closed. Board games, crafts and reading with Mom are just not as appealing as they once were. Home bound in a town where we know very few people, I am alone again. Over time, though, lonely stopped being a comfortable place. Lonely stopped being quiet and safe. It roars in my ears, pulling the walls in until I am suffocating. My anxiety has grown until it is a monster that shadows me, giving me no peace. I tried to talk to a few of my friends about this growing anxiety and depression. I got a lot of suggestions like "Start your day with positive thoughts" and "Happiness is a choice". I know they didn't mean to do so but their advice only made me feel more alone. In fact, I have never felt more alone in my life and I think that is saying something.

     I turned to my bible but it didn't really help. Not until I ran across a daily devotion that detailed some of the emotions that Jesus experienced in the last weeks of his life. One of those emotions was loneliness. I was shocked. It had never occurred to me that Jesus would have been lonely. He was always surrounded by people that loved him! How on Earth could he have been lonely? I read the bible passages that accompanied the devotion and realized that if this was true then Jesus understood what I was going through - because He, too, had experienced loneliness! And not just loneliness, sadly, but fear and loss as well. I began to look at passages in the bible differently. Suddenly I could see a pattern that had escaped me all of my life. I grabbed a blank index card and wrote in bold letters: Jesus Understands. On the back I listed several stories in the bible that illustrated this fact. And as I read my bible each day, I am on the lookout for more. You see, I had always had this vague idea that Jesus had a pretty simple life. He knew who He was, He completely understood and embraced His purpose. Things like fear, loneliness, grief, anger . . . they didn't mesh with the experience I imagined Jesus had as a man. I thought the knowledge that he was the son of God was somehow  . . . insulation against the deeper, negative emotions. But the truth is He came to Earth as a man to fully and completely experience life as a human. Love, anger, loneliness, grief, need, hunger, fear - all part of the human experience. The next day the devotion was about the names of Jesus and how they described the different aspects of his life: Prince of Peace, Almighty, Bread of Life, Great Shepherd, Counselor, Deliverer . . . the list was extensive and each one added another piece to the puzzle of Jesus that I was slowly putting together. Then I saw the name Man of Sorrows:

He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Isaiah 53:3

     I cried when I read that. I hated the idea that Jesus suffered that much. On the heels of that terrible realization I finally understood that He is called Counselor because He has lived through the same pain, He understands, and can counsel us accordingly. There is comfort in that, as God intended, I'm sure. When the anxiety takes over, I try to hang on to that one truth. When the loneliness threatens to consume me, I cling to that one, comforting truth:

Jesus Understands

     Perhaps you will find comfort in that truth as well. When you are overwhelmed by loneliness, when you are stumbling around in your own personal darkness and feel like even your friends have abandoned you, remember that Jesus felt the same way in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew  26:36-46). If you are drowning in grief consider that Jesus wept over the death of His friend Lazarus (John 11: 33-36) and showed His understanding of the grief of others when He raised the widows son from the dead, so moved was He by her tears (Luke 7: 11-17).  Jesus understood fear as well. How else can you explain His reaction when the people came to Jairus, with whom He was walking, and told him that his daughter was dead. Jesus immediately told Jairus "Don't be afraid; just believe." (Mark 5:36) Jesus knew the news created an instant reaction of fear and dread within Jairus. I imagine He took him by the shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes as He told him those beautiful words, words I often repeat to myself: Don't be afraid, just believe. 

     Life is a journey over rough terrain. The twists and turns and bumps can leave us bruised and broken. Thank God (literally) that there is a Counselor we can turn to who knows exactly what we are feeling because He was bruised and broken, too. 

First stop: Doubt. Population: Millions.

     When God delivered the Israelites from Egypt, He did so with what could be considered much pomp and circumstance. While it is hard to think of the word "miracle" when one considers the plagues that befell Egypt, they were just that - miracles. Signs and wonders. From the burning bush to the manna in the desert. God was performing incredible miracles for all to see. And yet, how did the Israelites respond? Each time circumstances turned difficult, they doubted. They railed against Moses. They wailed and cried and often wished to be back in Egypt, once again enslaved but comforted by the familiar. I can certainly sympathize, I'm not an adventurous person myself and the familiar is, indeed, safer than the unknown. But I have always puzzled over their doubt. How could they doubt? God brought plagues, parted a sea and allowed them to walk across the seafloor to safety, He provided a guiding pillar of smoke and another of fire, poured down food from heaven. . . ! I am certain I would never doubt God if He manifested such extraordinary miracles in my presence.
     Or would I? What is the nature of a miracle? Is the word "miracle" not defined as an extraordinary act of divine intervention?

An extraordinary act of divine intervention.

     Does a miracle have to be as awesome as the parting of a sea for us to count it as such? Or can a miracle be . . . quieter? Certainly just as awe inspiring but on a smaller scale. A kind stranger when you were at the end of your rope. Twenty dollars pressed into your palm by someone that whispered "God wanted me to share this with you" without realizing you couldn't feed your children that day. A call, out of the blue, from a friend when you need someone the most. We tend not to think of such things as miracles. Some even might call them coincidences. But make no mistake - they are, indeed, extraordinary acts of divine intervention - and at the time we usually recognize them as such. But, like the Israelites, we often forget those gloriously intimate moments with God and allow doubt to take root again.
     While reading Exodus recently, I realized that I, too, doubt God even in the face of wondrous miracles. Divorced, caring for two children alone, struggling with Lupus, my daughter's severe disabilities, and financial difficulties, I have met God many times in both friends and strangers alike. And yet, when the next crisis occurs, I doubt. How can I possibly look at the Israelites with incredulity when I am no different? Does it matter that paying the rent isn't as "showy" a miracle as parting a sea? Because despite the fact that it was not a miracle to garner worldwide attention, being gifted with the money to pay my rent was still an extraordinary act of divine intervention. A miracle I prayed for most fervently and a miracle that God delivered, among many others. Some of those miracles I have forgotten. Isn't that terrible? Moments that God made it clear that He was right there, by my side, actively working in my life, and I've forgotten many of them. Life moved on and those "ordinary" miracles were forgotten in the overwhelming worry of the next difficulty.
     Aren't we lucky Moses took the time to commit to paper the many miracles God performed for the Israelites? Imagine those events occurring now and Moses authoring a blog:

'Yesterday God parted the Red Sea so that we could walk to safety. It was an extraordinary feat, a glorious example of the power and majesty of our God. Today the people look out at the desert before us and think maybe they should have stayed in Egypt. God, give me patience!'

     Perhaps the Israelites would have been a little less doubtful if they had the chance to read daily summaries of their activities, realizing that God always saved them. But, somehow, I doubt it. After all, I have the entire Bible of miracles as well as the experience of miracles in my own life and still I doubt. I worry. I become consumed with anxiety and fear. I forget miracles.
     Luckily, God does not. He does not forget that we are human and fallible. He does not forget that He loves us and has gone to great lengths to save us - usually from ourselves - time and again. Rather, He walks patiently with us, working miracles and weaving them into the tapestry of our lives so effortlessly that they appear as common occurrences to us, appreciated in the moment but quickly forgotten. It would seem that little has changed since the time of Moses.
     I'd like to conclude with some suggestion, some divinely inspired gem of wisdom that will take away all of your doubts, fears, and mine, but I have none. I am not, after all, Solomon. I probably would have asked for wealth, or beauty, or the love of a particular someone. If I'd had a little time to ponder maybe even calorie free chocolate. But not wisdom. And so I will leave you with this: GOD HAS YOUR BACK. Write that down somewhere because you are going to forget it soon. And you know what? God will have your back anyway. And that, dear reader, is the most extraordinary act of divine intervention of all.

Psalm 118

     My favorite Psalm in the Bible is Psalm 118. This Psalm chronicles a journey that all humans go through. While we may not be surrounded by bloodthirsty armies we can relate those armies, instead, to the challenges we face each day. Lately, my bloodthirsty army is Anxiety. It joined forces with Depression and they have been pushing at me hard from all sides. I often turn to this Psalm; it is a battle song for the war weary soul. I love that it starts out with praise and ends with praise but my favorite verses are 13 & 14:

I was pushed back and about to fall,

but the Lord helped me.

The Lord is my strength and my song;

He has become my salvation.

     There is something about that, about God being my song, that resonates with me. This Psalm helped bring me back to God.  If you've never read it, or haven't in a while, I would encourage you to visit this Psalm again. I believe you will find that it speaks to you as well.

***

     So who am I and what is this blog all about? 

     I'm Susan and, I'm sorry to say, this blog will be a journey through my brain as I read the Bible. You may want to contact your travel agent, have them book you on a different train. This one may wreck from time to time - you've been warned. I am a divorced mother of two with a love of sci-fi (I have a favorite Captain, Doctor and always side Predator), travel junkie and map hoarder, I include chocolate in my list of blessings, and I believe the book is always ALWAYS better than the movie. In fact, I probably won't watch the movie. I can't cook, either. This is a source of some amusement for those that know me and I have absolutely no idea why. I have Lupus. My eldest child has Lissencephaly and I have cared for her for twenty beautiful, difficult years. My youngest is a nerd with a love of animals that often turns our lives into a weekly dramedy. He also prefers Kirk to Picard so I'm wondering if there was a mix-up at the hospital - I can only hope time and maturity will convince him he is sooo wrong. He is also attending RCIA and is looking forward to his baptism at Easter. There's tons more but if I post with any frequency and you find it interesting enough to read, then you'll get to know me better. Again, you've been warned.

Why have I started this blog?

     As an outlet. A wall to throw ideas on, see if they stick. To appease a few friends that have been pestering me to start a blog. To reach out beyond the four walls on my existence. I have no transportation and no nursing care for my daughter so I am, basically, home bound. I see people very rarely, a few times a month for doctor appointments, the weekly shop, that sort of thing. My friends all live too far away to visit. About a year ago the walls started closing in on me. I papered my bedroom with maps, hoping all those roads would give me a little breathing room. And it helped, for a while. But the depression and anxiety have been building and I've been in the darkness for so long I'm starting to make friends with that voice. If you've been there, you know the voice I'm talking about. It never says anything good, or true, but it sure is convincing. I need to do something or the voice will be the last thing I hear. So here we are, a blog. The beginning of a journey. There's no smoking but the dining car always has chocolate. Course laid in. Engage.