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.