You Can’t Handle the Truth!

When I was a sophomore at Berkeley I was rather disillusioned. Life was not going the way that I thought it would. I wasn’t at the top of all of my classes. I didn’t reinvent myself so that I had a cool new college personality. I might have left my family and all that drama and moved hundreds of miles away… but that whole “wherever you go, there you are” thing really is true. I was in a new city with new people, but I was still me. Only thing was… once I got to college I couldn’t stop wearing the mask that my family made for me.  Y’know, the mask where “everything is alright.” Only thing is that, everything wasn’t alright with me and hadn’t been for a long time. Away from the restrictive confines of my family, I was able to be free. But I didn’t use my freedom as one might think. I was free to finally start feeling and I couldn’t handle it.

Gone was the pressure to suppress and repress what I was feeling.  The Pandora’s Box that was my mental health was getting all shaken up. I started to implode. All the thoughts that I used to carefully categorize and confine when I lived in my mother’s house… now came out to play in my house and it was like one of those parties that teens throw when their parents are gone. All hell broke loose.

My thoughts took over the house and it wasn’t safe for me to live there anymore.

I didn’t know it was Bipolar Disorder. I just knew that my world…my mind was out of my control… and control was so very important to me. It was at Berkeley that I realized that the feeble thing I called “faith” was just a cultural thing that I put on, much the way people put on decorative jewelry. I had gone to church as a kid because my mother made me. I didn’t know Jesus, so it was easy to walk away from him when my shallow beliefs were challenged. The biggest challenge to my beliefs came when my nephew was murdered by a drug pusher. At least that’s the story I was told. I don’t really know the details. All I know is that I started to question the goodness of a God who would allow such an atrocity. I became an atheist. Not a card carrying one who likes to shoot Christians down on sheer principle. I was a pseudo-intellectual who shrouded my ignorance in pretty rhetoric.

I am not sure when I decided to do this, but one year I decided that I need to find truth. Blame it on the fact that I was a Rhetoric major and for them there is no single standard of truth. Everything is relative. That didn’t fit well with me, SO I went looking for truth. I’ve got a nifty post called “‘X’ Doesn’t Mark the Spot,” if you want to read more about that revelation… suffice it to say, when you sincerely go looking for “truth” it will eventually lead you to Jesus because he is Truth. There is nothing relative about Jesus even if his people do get hung up on “disputable matters.”

Almost from the moment I started walking with Jesus I have been begging him to get to the root of my dysfunctional life. A mental illness, obsessive suicidal thoughts, a sexual addiction & an addiction to porn, incest issues, social phobias and anger/rage issues???  I wanted him to get to the roots and yank them out hard. Only thing is, whenever I got too close to roots my world would start to implode. I’d panic and then run away to go lick my wounds in the comfort of the confines of the Bipolar Bubble.

I’ve done enough counseling to be able to write a book (But wait! I have). If going to counseling heals, I should either be fully healed by now or due for a refund. The idea of doing counseling again did not sit well with me. As I’ve been blogging recently, the application that I had to fill out for this new Christian counseling and the books that I have to read to prepare for it have been pushing my buttons. I have been tempted to retreat into the Bubble and put out a “DO NOT DISTURB” sign. I’ve been “disturbed” long enough. I want to avoid things that are going to make me mentally disturbed. Saturday, Jesus showed me that I’ve been going about it the wrong way. Avoiding the pain isn’t going to make it go away. Burying the pain hasn’t worked so well either. Putting on a mask because it makes other people feel good about themselves might preserve a semblance of peace… but it’s not true peace. If there are two people in a relationship and one of them is really happy, but the other is broken and hurting there’s a problem.

I know I have problems. Maybe they’re minor when compared with what’s happening on the world stage, but they are my problems and they are very real to me. For whatever reason God is directing me to this counseling. It galls me that I do not buy into their major premises, but God has reminded me that I don’t have to trust their process. I just have to trust him. Then, out of nowhere, God reminds me of my sophomoric search for truth. Would you believe that I thought the best way to find truth was to interview people? And somewhere, somehow I decided that the best way to really get at truth was to conduct a Sociological Sex Survey of college co-eds because people are “real” when it comes to sex. Yeah. That sounds really ridiculous to me now. But I really believed that and started interviewing people and keeping a file on the results of my search for truth.

And,  like I said, the search led me to Jesus and I’ve been struggling to understand truth ever since. This counseling journey has been a challenge.

What is the truth, Lord??

I think I was driving when I asked him that question.

You can’t handle the truth.

Was Jesus now quoting bad Jack Nicholson lines??

What did he mean that I couldn’t handle the truth?? It made me think of that ridiculous book that I’d read. What if (and I’m not saying I buy into it), but what if this author is right? My pastor always uses that scripture about “disputable matters” when encouraging us not to get all bent over people who believe different things within the faith. Like how people who don’t speak in tongues shouldn’t get all up in arms when people who speak in tongues start going at it. Or how people who are quiet in prayer shouldn’t get all heated when other people start praying real loud. Personally, the whole “disputable matters” thing gets to me because it sounds like everything is relative — this might not be good for you, but I believe it so it’s good for me. It makes the standard of truth seem a lot less standard if people can decide what is right, and scriptural for them based on their interpretation. If there is one standard of truth, if people hold opposing views — everybody cannot be right.

I am clinging to my complete and utter disbelief in the theories that propel this book forward. What if I’m wrong? I’m not saying that I am… but what if? What if this author is writing truth and I’m too proud, blind, stupid, or neurotic to see it?? I told Jesus the other day that I wanted to know truth no matter where it took me. That’s how I met him after all. I can’t put my faith in a process that I don’t trust, but I can put my future in the hands of the God that I do. He wants to use this process and I want to obey him. Since telling him that I wanted to know truth, my buttons have gotten mashed BIG TIME. Maybe I can’t handle the truth… but I firmly believe that God will never send anything my way that I can’t handle in his strength. I ask for truth. I believe he’s going to reveal it to me.

Remembering

Remember.

It’s one word that is constantly repeated in the bible. We’re told to remember what God has done; remember how far he had led us, build altars to remember him, help other people remember what he has done… and a whole bunch of other commands to remember him. Why all the remembering? Why not just live life in the moment and move on?? For me, I’ve learned that if I don’t remember all the times God has brought me through I will forget just how amazing it seemed at the time. That’s one reason I journal. No matter how forgetful I might be, the memory is always only a keystroke away. If I want to remember what God was doing in my life and in the world around me at any given time…I just have to find the journal for that time or look through my list of blog posts.

I’ve been rather quiet the past week because I’ve been struggling… feeling rather overwhelmed with work stress (although I still really love my job);  health stress (Hysterectomy Girl has been feeling really exhausted, physically uncomfortable, and overwhelmed); and with belief stress (not knowing what you should believe is stressful). I find that when I get like this I keep my thoughts to myself, God, and maybe one or two other trusted friends. I’ve come a LONG way from blaring every single detail of my life in my blog for anybody to see– something that I think is really wise. There a just some things about your personal life that don’t need to be blared to anybody and everybody who will read it. Fortunately, I’ve finally learned the difference between what to share and what not to share. And this  morning I decided that I need to share. I need to blog. I woke up early from another bad dream. I started to talk to the Lord about what’s been eating at me and then I just started crying. I started to think about how to express this particular struggle in words so that other people might understand. That’s when I knew that my struggle is not just for me. It’s for other people who might be going through something similar.

Some of the problems in my life are of my own making. Others are a result of unrealistic expectations placed on me by others. Some are the result of bad actions of ignorant people who didn’t mean to hurt me. I need to work through whatever it is I need to know or do in order to forgive them… but all of it is in God’s control and I’ve been acting like it’s not. I’ve been acting as if I just needed to do more, feel more, pray more, understand more… then everything would just be magically better. If I??? When did I become God? I need to remember who’s driving this bus. God has been pointing out cracks in my faith and in my life and it has been overwhelming only because I’ve forgotten who is in charge.

This morning I need to remember… so I’ve re-posted an excerpt (2004) from another blog that I posted here back in 2009. I think another word for “remember” should be “recycle.” Here’s a “recycled” post that I need to reread in order to remember some of what God has done. Once I remember what God has done for me and in me I think I will be able to delight in my current circumstances even if I don’t particularly understand them or like all of them.

 

 

Date: March 9, 2004    01:41pm

Some of the gifts that God gives you are so unexpected that you aren’t really sure what to make of them… like last night… so much feeling; so much emotion…

The gift was like a deep full-bodied burgundy, poured out by the loving hand of the Father. Now, for this analogy, you must bear with me. I don’t drink, so I can only imagine the sensation of drinking a truly rare and treasured wine. When I did drink, I drank lots and I drank cheaply. Having no appreciation for the truly worthwhile, I didn’t know, as I chugged down stuff named after barnyard animals that there was something more… something better.

Someone gave me a message the other day, “You don’t put wine in a cracked bottle¹.” This made perfect sense to me because I was a cracked bottle and it takes one to know one. Over the years I’d been handled badly. I’d allowed myself to be tossed around from hand to hand. Used for a short time and then set aside. Only the finest of hairline fractures marred my surface. I tried to pretend that it didn’t matter. I tried not to feel my life slipping away through the cracks.

I didn’t know that I was becoming an empty bottle, and by the time I did, so much filth and dirt had seeped in through the cracks that my insides were bleak and bitter to the touch. I couldn’t patch up the cracks no matter what I tried. So, frantically, I looked for someone to fill me, afraid that I’d crack up and be gone forever– never to be missed, as if I’d never even existed.

… and then He spoke to me.
“Neither do men pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins and both are preserved.” (Luke 5: 37-39)

For years He’d watched silently as clumsy hands created cracks in me and with each fracture he wept… as if his side were being pierced… as if his blood were being poured out over me… like a rare and precious wine. And all the while he knew. He saw the cracks and he knew: You don’t pour new wine into an old wineskin. So, he began to call me to him and when I took the cup he offered and drank of it in memory of him, a work began.

He began to point out the cracks!

He began to chip away at them one by one and I cried, “NOoooooo! I thought you meant to save, not destroy!” I figured he’d just patch up the cracks; plug the holes; and fill me… but he was determined to break me… and with each probe I cried. The cracks got bigger and bigger until I lay in a heap at his feet… broken… chards… of glass. No longer a cracked bottle… just a bunch of pieces. Then, as if adding insult to injury, he began to turn up the heat.

I’d like to know who came up with the bright idea of the “Refiner’s Fire??” I thought being broken was enough. Why was He hurting me??? Where was this “God of All Comfort” that everybody except me seemed to know??? Didn’t God love me? Where was my friend Jesus? What had I done to deserve this??? The fire got hotter and hotter until I cried out, “Why have you forsaken me???!”
And still the heat continued as his hands began to turn me this way and that, molding me. His touch was infinitely gentle– lighter than an angel’s breath. As he worked, he talked to me… I heard his still small voice as I looked into the light of his fire (which had suddenly ceased to burn). I reached out to him and the light grew brighter and brighter still, until finally, he turned the heat away from me and held me up to the light.

No longer was I a cracked bottle unworthy to hold the cheapest wine… in the palm of his hand he held a cut… crystal… decanter. Wonderfully, and fearfully made. As the light reflected off my many facets, he smiled. Finally, he could pour out his gift… and what a gift it was.

To appreciate the truly rare and wonderful, I had to be made new…

 

Just Got My GED

I cherish my GEDs (Good Emotional Days). Today is one such day and I want to remember it. I do this because when I get around to  having my next bad emotional day… I want to be able to remember the good that God has brought me because it helps me keep thing in perspective.

Bipolar Girl has had enough BAD emotional days to last a life time. What makes today especially sweet is that it’s almost over and I’m tired. My feet are sore and I’m just wiped out… but it’s not a bad tired and the sore feet were well earned. I took 30 of my students from two of my Reading classes on a field trip. And it wasn’t just any old field trip. We went to the Maui Ocean Center — aka “MY FAVORITE PLACE ON THE ISLAND!” I bought an annual membership back in November and I’ve gone so many times my membership has paid for itself several times over already.

This GED was a day of firsts. My students are all Micronesian (Marshall Islands, Samoa, Pohnpei, Yap) and have never seen anything remotely like the Ocean Center. They’ve seen many of the fish — I know this because as we walked past several tanks they’d tell me  its name from their language and how they eat them back home! One student looked at one tank and said, “Miss Lori, now I’m hungry!” Imagine: my students wanting to fish at the Maui Ocean Center! They’d never seen such huge tanks filled with so many different types of fish. The large glass tunnel that they could walk through and have sting rays and other fish swimming overhead was a major source of wonder for them. The large aquarium that housed all the sharks stopped them cold. They didn’t want to leave it. With something like 20 sharks in the tank with six different species of shark, it was clearly the highlight of the day. When the diver got in the shark tank to feed them my students were like little kids. The best part of the day for me was watching their faces.(my students not the sharks). These were not the jaded faces of young adults who think they’re too old for something like this.

I have taken other students on this trip. My last elementary school class didn’t have the privilege of going, but the one before that did and we had an excellent time as well. So how can I see this as a day of firsts for me too? I took a bunch of students whom I work with every day to my favorite place. BIG YIP! Right?!

Control freak that I am I’ve always insisted on absolutely perfect behavior on field trips. First graders all the way up to sixth graders — everybody knew about Ms. G and her field trips. Everything had to be perfect. I was the “Field Trip Diva” and nothing (or nobody) was going to stand in the way of my untarnished record. Getting a feel for my neurotic side yet? It’s that same neurotic side that came up with excellent field trip ideas and grand fun for everybody. It was almost always easy to control my classes on field trips because my biggest class over the past 11 years where I was the sole teacher was 15. Keeping 15 fourth graders in line when you’ve got at least 4 adult chaperons is actually not all that hard. Especially when the kids have been prepped in advance that excellent behavior is the rule not the exception. For years I’d make my students walk in “Madeline Lines” — two absolutely straight lines that were tighter than any military formation. I turned it into a game and they actually thought that they wanted to walk like that.  All the better for control freaks to keep track of everybody.

You pretty much can’t do that with young adult. Especially since the Micronesians have no idea who “Madeline” actually is anyway. And even if they did, I doubt I could have gotten them to do it anyway. Taking young adults (most over 20 years old)  on a field trip was a first for me. And while it was a bit stressful, I had a good time.

This was also the first time that I took more than 15 people on a field trip. Thirty is a large group to supervise when you’re in charge. The potential for something to go wrong is higher. I went in to work yesterday (Sunday) just to make sure I’d covered every possible scenario. And while some of them did keep straying off… nothing happened. It’s not like when you take children on field trips and you can’t even let them go to the bathroom alone for fear of stranger danger/pedophiles. I had no fear on that front and it felt good. And even if we’d accidentally left somebody behind, they all had cell phones. I have no doubt whatsoever that “home alone” would’ve called us had we somehow made it out of the parking lot without them.

Once I wrote a post years ago on a different blog about an all school field trip to go see a play about Winnie the Pooh. The play was horrible yet the behavior of the students in other classes was atrocious. My students knew that they’d be in several levels beyond hot water (scalding??) if they’d been out of line, so my class was fine… but the others were so bad the bus driver threatened to pull over and make us get off. I was mortified. It was on that trip that Bipolar Girl realized that buses full of rowdy children were a trigger for mood swings and were to be avoided at all cost. Since then, I’ve never ridden another school bus. I’ve always gotten permission to drive my own car and avoid the mental angst associated with bus travel. Today… I rode the bus. Didn’t really have much choice. Surprisingly, aside from the radio, the bus was as quiet as a tomb. Evidently young adults have better things to do than to actually talk to each other on the bus. Most of them seemed to be texting which was fine by me.

When we left the Ocean Center one of the docents came to me and raved about our students. He said that they were well mannered, asked intelligent questions, and really just impressed him. He said our school was welcomed there any time! That was probably the real highlight of my day. So what if we hadn’t been in “Madeline Lines.” Clearly, I have moved on to a new phase in my life that does not require such rigid control. I was still pretty anal retentive… but not like I used to be. Besides, I learned a long time ago that you can’t really control anybody anyway. They have to want to do what you ask them to do or at least want to avoid the consequences of disobedience enough to want to do what you want them to do.

So many things that might seem really small to anybody else were huge for me. A year ago I couldn’t have done this. Now I’m trying to figure out what new learning experience I can expose the next group of students to and when can I make it happen. Of course there are a few hundred things I would have done differently, but I’m not going to ruin my GED obsessing over it. I just want to remember today. I’m exhausted. My feet hurt. My back hurts and Hysterectomy Girl is making her presence known… but it has all been worth it. I got my GED. If I keep getting more of those I might just move past the GEW (Good Emotional Week) right on up to a GEM (Good Emotional Month). I don’t like the sound of the GEW… but the GEMs look promising.

Ok… the video is slightly cheesy but worth watching!

 

When It Rains… (rant)

WARNING: RANT in PROGRESS

 

My alarm actually woke me up this morning. Normally I wake up 30 or so minutes before my alarm goes off because I don’t like the sound of it. This  morning I woke up before it went off… but I was sick. I needed some extra sleep. I thought I’d catch a few more minutes sleep, so I  had the everlasting gobstoppers scared out of me when a blaring sound penetrated my subconscious at 6:51 am. I went from a dead sleep to wide awake and I wasn’t happy about it.

It was raining when I went to bed. Evidently it stormed all last night. Not good since there was a lot of flooding on the island after the last big rain storm. Not good for me since I’ve had a leaky roof problem. My landlady’s boyfriend “fixed” it on Christmas and I’ve been sitting pretty high and dry since then. A bit too high and too dry… because when I woke up this morning and looked up at the large crack in the ceiling, I was dismayed to find that it was not just a hairline fracture anymore… it was a big old gaping drywall wound. If that gash was on a body part I’d be expecting to hear a flatline any minute now.

But with only a short time before I had to get to work, there was nothing I could do about it. Actually, if I had all the time in the world, there’s nothing I’d be able to do about it. I’m the girl who only knows how to use three tools: a hammer, a screw driver, and a cell phone. I have no idea what to do for a leaky roof. I was grumbling when I got in the car. I was grumbling as I started my 8 minute commute. The car ahead of me was going really slowly. Grrr. Then the car ahead of me came to a complete stop and I was about ready to blow an unholy fit until I saw the sign that said, “HIGH WATER” and saw a car in the opposite lane inching its way through some really deep water. Ee GADS! (Not what I said)… what the heck were we supposed to do?? Couldn’t turn around. Had to go forward. I get middle of the way through the water and the “SERVICE CAR” chime and light went off.  Panic. Then I remembered reading in the manual that if certain parts got wet in high water it would trigger the service alert. My car was not going to die in the middle of the torrential downpour.

By the time I got to work I was certain that I was going to have a crumby day. Evidently God had a different plan. About 15 minutes into my first class she comes in and said that class was canceled due to the inclement weather. Roads were flooded and some staffers could not get to work. I ended up getting a lot of stuff done that has been piling up. Some of the students even volunteered to clean and vacuum my room. The afternoon classes were reinstated once the weather cleared up, but by the last period I was really congested and very tired. I let them watch a movie while I continued to plow through all the piles on my desk. I was actually in a good mood. Today had actually turned out to be a good day. When I got in my car and it actually started I was beyond happy.

The road was blessedly clear and the only reminder of this morning was a rather large slab of asphalt that had become dislodged by the water. That and the bright yellow “High Water” signs that seemed a lot less ominous without all the high water. I was even happier when I got home and my driveway was not a swampy mess. The other day when it rained it looked like that river of chocolate that August Gloop fell into in “Willie Wonkaand the Chocolate Factory.” I was all set to settle into my place all high and dry until I opened my front door. The first word out of my mouth wasn’t a swear word… but it wasn’t pretty. And neither is my ceiling. One of the smaller cracks in the ceiling in my bedroom is now bulging. It is not going to take much more rain to create a skylight for me in the middle of my bedroom. My landlady did not return my call and for all intents and purposes I would have gotten the same result if I’d talked to myself instead of leaving a message for her.

Now this is where I struggle as a Christian. We’re supposed to do everything without grumbling and complaining. We’re also supposed to be the “happy happy joy joy” people who don’t worry about anything and “consider all kinds of trials” pure joy. Right now I’m annoyed and I want to vent. I’m not happy and I consider this whole ceiling drama a threat to my happy home. I don’t understand what God is doing and I don’t know how to respond. I don’t want to move out of my place, but if the ceiling caves in I don’t have much choice. I looked on craigslist and there’s a studio right in this neighborhood for the same price I’m paying… but it’s one room. I think I’d chew my own leg off if I had to go back to living in one room. I love the place where I live now (except for the leaking ceiling and the negligent landlady). I’ve fought just about every type of critter on this island to claim this land as mine. I do not want to leave. Yet it seems like leaving is a key theme in my life right now and God keeps bringing up areas for change.

I hate change. I know I’m supposed to “embrace” it… but I’d just as soon not. My attitude about all the changes happening in my life stinks which is why I haven’t blogged much. But if I wait for my attitude to change before I blog, I might be waiting a LOOOOOOOOOONG time. It’s going to be interesting how the next few months play out. Ultimately, I want to do what God would have me do, so once I firmly believe that it’s God calling me to make these changes, I’ll step out in obedience. Even if it means moving to a smaller place.

I’m rambling now and blogging is not helping my mood. I think I’ll stop now and pray that it doesn’t rain.

 

Bipolar Christian Handbook 101

I’ve been thinking about the current big stressors in my life. They are making me physically sick. I’m not yet at the point where I’d say that they are making me mentally sick… but if I keep obsessing about this stuff that’s a distinct  possibility. I got one of those “light bulb” moments this morning. The light went on and I knew that I had finally gotten the point enough to actually walk in the knowledge and move forward. I’ve heard it before and I can’t claim to have coined the thought… but I finally get it and that’s all that matters. My epiphany du jour?

The only way to have different outcomes in my life is to do things differently. I have to do, think, and believe in different ways if I want to avoid pitfalls that will lead me straight to depression. I can keep repeating the same mistakes and then wondering what hit me or I can stop and reflect. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the past — when I was actively struggling with depression and how I got there. I’m also thinking back to that point where I realized that there was only so much my medication could do for me. It kept a lot of my symptoms at bay, but it wasn’t going to give me a new personality. It wasn’t going to erase the sin in my life or the consequences of that sin. That’s one thing my secular therapists could never understand or help me deal with because they didn’t have a point of reference.

I’m a Christian first and a person with Bipolar Disorder second. You cannot separate the two, but I mustn’t ever forget which one takes prominence in my life. Having said that, I need to be very clear that I hotly disagree with Christians who say that all you have to do is pray and trust God and your depression will go away. The ones who suggest that people like me don’t need medication. That’s ignorant, foolhardy, and dangerous. My life was at risk. If meds would stop me from reaching a point where I’d take my own life… then I needed to take those meds and no amount of religious posturing was going to change that.

Having said, that, I also hotly disagree with those people who say that meds are all you need to make you  happy, healthy, and stable. Meds can’t cover sins. Only Jesus can do that and I follow a book that supersedes the DSM IV (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition). There isn’t a mental illness that God does not know about and that he couldn’t heal if he wanted to or needed to. I have no idea why God allowed me to have a mental illness… but statistically speaking, why not me? We live on a planet with billions of people. Since he’s not going to wipe out all illness and disease altogether… it only stands to reason that I would have something. I could have been born with any number of life threatening physical diseases. Diabetes runs in my family. One of my sisters died because of complications with hers. I’m done whining about why God has allowed me to suffer in this way. Suffering is a reality in this life and I accept my share.

In the early days of my Christian walk I couldn’t understand that. I thought that when I got saved God would make my depression and suicidal thoughts go away. When he did not do that I got mad. That opened me up for more stress, anxiety, rage, and depression. It was like a domino effect. The meds could help with a lot of things… but anger at God? There’s no pill big enough to deal with that. Seeking God despite my anger and my confusion; confessing my anger and my rage to him; submitting my life to his Lordship no matter what is happening in my life? THOSE things have been essential in wiping up the toxic spill that was my mental illness. But it’s been like following the yellow brick road to mental wellness. Realizing those things and doing those things haven’t always been easy. But if I had to start changing any behaviors, those would be the first ones I’d start changing. If I’d known back then what I know now I would wish that somebody could have helped me understand that my attitude towards God would dramatically impact my mental wellness.

Right now my life is out of balance. I’m stressing out over things I cannot change and it’s been affecting my mental health and my physical health. My nightmares have come back. I’ve been exhausted. My intestinal track is having a field day. Even my post op hysterectomy area is giving me grief. Going to the doctor yielded no answers before so I’m not going to see one now. Placing my eyes firmly on Jesus and accepting this rocky path he is calling me to walk is my only course of action. I don’t need a shrink or a new dosage on my meds. Lithium was never meant to be an antidote for life. I need to learn how to walk through these trials maturely and in faith and I’ve no doubt I will start to feel better.

If the nightmares continue my mental health is going to be attacked like an wall-less city under siege. I’m feeling called to look back over what I’ve learned and remember how far God has brought me. They say that nothing changes if nothing changes. I need to remember what has changed if I want to move forward. I need to remember what didn’t work and ask God to show me what will. I need to believe that no matter what is happening, my God is with me and I am not fighting this battle alone. And as I learn from what God has taught me in the past and start to walk in it, things are going to be different. I’m going to be different. The struggles are going to start to look different and the outcomes will start to be different. No more falling into the pit of depression and getting my spiritual butt kicked. That was the old battle. This new stuff that is bothering me now?  This is one spiritual and mental battle that I don’t intend to lose.

Storm Damage

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” ~Matthew 7:24-27

 

With all the things that have been coming against me in the past month — this picture pretty much sums up how I feel. And while some might look at the house and feel despair, I take heart. It might be under water… but it’s still standing. I’m not yet at a point where I can blog about what has been going on or what has been thrashing about in my mind. I will say that on top of all of the stuff that was already messing with my head my beloved pastor resigned from the ministry to take care of family issues. I support his decision. I respect him for making the decision, but it is happening at a time when I really need his counsel.  Then again, if he’d made the decision a year ago the bottom would have fallen out of my world. I’m definitely able to handle it better now than at any other time in the past. He has been the most influential spiritual leader I’ve ever known and he and his wife have impacted my life so much so that I owe my faith and my life to them.

A year ago I wouldn’t have handled the news well at all, but because of him and the things he taught me about what faith really means I know without a shadow of a doubt that God is in control and that I will eventually move beyond all of the stress and drama that is in my life right now. There aren’t any thoughts of hopelessness. There are definitely no thoughts of suicide. The things that are bothering me today and have been bothering me for the past few weeks will pass. This time next year I’ll be worrying about something else. Dealing with all of this stuff sucks on seven different levels… but my foundation is firm. None of this will be the death of me. My spiritual house might feel a bit waterlogged right now… but it hasn’t fallen. I do not know what to do or what to feel or even what to say… but I know who to turn to and I know that he sees me. It doesn’t make the hurt and the pain go away, but it makes it a lot more bearable.

Are You? Did You? Will You?

People overwhelm me.

They always have. Growing up with seven sisters and two brothers gave me an aversion to crowds and to noise. A solitary corner off somewhere where nobody would look for me… that’s where I always preferred to be. With people comes stress and conflict and drama… and since Bipolar Girl can manufacture drama like most people make skin pigment, I can do without other people’s drama. Unfortunately, other people always seem to want to deposit a load on their drama on my doorstep like one of those yucky flaming brown doodie bags that kids toss around on Halloween. Pardon the gross visual, but it fit the mood.

And like the disgruntled homeowner who finds the odorous mess on their doorstep, I get a wee bit peeved when other people dump their drama on me and expect me to deal with it. Not a very Christian attitude, I know. Shoot me. I’m tired and cranky and in a really whiny plaintive mood. Which makes me realize that I need to stop letting my moods control me. I used to be at the mercy of my moods, but I’m not anymore. I might need to do a bit of a rant tonight… but I also have to realize that the sun has gone down on today and all the troubles that came with it will be behind me first thing tomorrow morning.  And if I spend less time focusing on what chapped me the wrong way today and more time focusing on God then my day stands to get a lot better before it ends.

Which makes me think of the message I heard in church today. If that wasn’t a Bipolar Girl message I don’t know what was. The guest speaker, the parent of a former student, is a ministry leader on the island. I’d never heard him speak before but was amazingly surprised that he had me in tears within minutes. He made so many points that resonated with my soul it’s hard to pick just one to talk about, so I’ll take the safe route and stick with his theme. Essentially, he said that stuff happens. And then after that stuff happens… generally more stuff happens. And if all that stuff happening wasn’t bad enough, other Christians can often be the cause of some of your stress, drama, and more stuff happening. It would be so easy to bow your head, focus on your circumstances, and (if your of the Bipolar Line) want to slit your wrists. He didn’t say that. That was my line. Today wasn’t a slit-your-wrist-kind of day, but it did push my buttons. I am so far out of my corner it’s not even funny. I left my comfort zone LONG ago and I’m overwhelmed with all the people.

The speaker used 2 Chronicles 20 as his spring board. His point? A prayer sandwiched in between a bunch of fear and stress that we should make note of: Are you not…? Did you not..? Will you not…?

A prayer lifted up to God by a guy who had a lot of stuff to stress out about, but rather than focus on his circumstances he looked up over the cloud and saw the face of God. Are you not the God who…? He reminded himself of who God was at the core of his character and nature. If I were to pray the same prayer I’d have to say, “Aren’t you the God who was with me through every single depressed and suicidal episode over the last two decades? Surely that God sees me now and is well aware of my stress. Aren’t you the Creator of the universe who made me and everyone around me? Surely that God could help his people get along and work together. He could also help me deal when people overwhelm me. Aren’t you the God who comforted me and healed me while I was in the hospital? Surely that God can comfort and heal me now as I deal with unintentional hurts caused by good people.

Just typing that makes me feel better because it really isn’t about me. It’s about what God wants to do through me and as I step out for him, there is going to be opposition. Perhaps my current challenges are preparation for when I resume trying to get my book published. I told God I didn’t have a thick enough skin to deal with the cut throat world of publishing. Maybe all this drama is adding another layer of skin that I haven’t yet noticed.

If I were to continue the prayer, I’d have to continue with something like this, “Did you not bring me this far?” I have come such a very long way. The person I was a year ago couldn’t have dealt with all the pressure and demands I’m dealing with now. A year ago I was struggling and wondering where I was going to live and where I was going to work. Surely the God who brought me this far is not going to leave the job half done. Will you not continue the work you’ve started in all of the areas of my life? Surely the God who started a good work in me will be faithful to complete it. I realize now that it will be impossible to please all people and I need to stop trying. I’m so afraid of people getting mad at me or turning their backs on me or, worse, turning to attack me that I get myself all knotted up when I have to deal with people. While those folks who tap danced on my buttons go home to relax with family over a nice meal… I go home by myself to obsess over what happened. I play the tape over and over in my head. I toss and turn at night struggling while that person sleeps a sound sleep. Surely the God who sees me and knows me can change me and break this cycle.

Knowing who God is. Knowing what he’s done. And being certain of what he will do. A really nice recipe for mental health and wellness. Sounds simple too, but it was the most difficult thing in the world for me back when I was moonlighting as Bipolar Girl. Now? Things are different. I’m different. I don’t want to let people continue to overwhelm me so much and today’s message is a good place to start. Are you not? Did you not? Will you not?? Sounds a bit rhetorical but I’ll answer it anyway: Yes, He is.

Grandma Got Ran Over By a Reindeer…

Talk about the grandmother of all overkill!

Yesterday after work my boss tells me that they’ve finally decided to start interviewing for my job. Never mind that I’ve worked for them for over a year or that I’ve been in my current position for the past six months and doing a fairly good job. We’re a government contract. I’ve learned to accept the great big wad of red tape over in the corner. To date, I have applied for three different jobs (including this one) and each time I was told that I was the number 2 candidate. Talk about ego buster. I was the front runner until somebody else interviewed who had just a little bit more experience or a little higher level of education.

My pride would have had me quitting a LONG time ago and standing in line for government cheese, but God said to stay put. I’m so glad I did. In the beginning I didn’t even want to take the job I was offered. It was a substitute teaching job with young adults. It’s a well known truth that subs are treated like they are several levels under all of the goey stuff stuck to the bottom of the totem pole. When I quit teaching elementary school I was broken and bitter (emphasis on the bitter). I didn’t really want to teach. I just needed a job. Substitute teaching seemed like the booby prize. Yet it was the counsel of trusted friends that had me taking the job and once I took it I started to thrive. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s definitely stretched me and my character. So when the carrot of a fulltime job was held out to me back in July after my surgery, I jumped at it about as fast as a post-op fat girl possibly could and I’ve been happy to be there ever since.

“They want me to schedule an  interview with you tomorrow and I’ll interview other ‘on-calls’ later in the week.” Good news and bad news. She really wants me in the job…. but she also evidently had other substitutes who were also interested in my job. The government contract means they have to interview all viable candidates. Great. I could be passed up once again. This time I decided to plan my assault. I put together a portfolio of my work with pictures. I had documents and letters testifying to every credential and qualification I’ve ever had. I read raving recommendations to them from my professor and a former employer. I had samples of current student work. And if that didn’t spike the cannon enough, I had a written outline that detailed exactly why I was the best possible candidate for the job. I used all of that to give the absolute best interview of my life.

My boss and the other interviewer were both impressed. At the end, I asked when they hoped to fill the position. She said before the winter break (Dec. 17). I asked when would she finish interviewing all the other candidates. She got a weird look on her face and then said, “You’re the only person we’re interviewing.” I couldn’t help it. I just started laughing and it wasn’t some dainty little girlie either. I had been run over by the big wad of red tape over in the corner! After I finished with my guffaws I asked her to explain. She had said that she had other “on-calls” (I’m a permanent on-call) to interview.  What she meant was… she was also interviewing for more on-call employees for on-call jobs!  To which I laughed that much more. In my attempt to avoid the big wad of red tape, I pretty much lay down in front of it and said, “Hit me now.” Talk about overkill. I came in packin’ interview heat and waged the equivalent of some nameless historical battle only to be told that I’m competing against myself! (Yes, laughing with me is ok!)

She said that she was glad that I’d misunderstood her because my presentation was amazing and would help her write her recommendation. She also said that perhaps I should give seminars to our trainees about interviewing strong. Me? I just couldn’t stop laughing. Of course, you can’t ignore the big wad of red tape over in the corner. Once our HR department gets involved… anything could happen and I might not get the job I’ve been doing for which I have absolutely no competition. That would be as unbelievable as it would be highly possible. Imagine having to tell people that I interviewed against myself and still didn’t get the job! Jeez. Good thing I’ve still got my sense of humor:

Wee Wee Wee

Seems like the Geico Piggy commercial  isn’t a magic mojo either. I’ve been awake since around 1am and as funny as I think that commercial is, I think the most I could scrounge up is a half-hearted snarl. I am tense, but not stressed if that makes any sense. I woke up laying flat on my back (I never sleep on my back) thinking about the stressful events of the day before. Serves  me right really. I asked God what I should do and when he showed me how to proceed, I told him that I was tired and I had a headache… I’d deal with it later. Two things you don’t really want to say to God? “No” and “Later.”

If I’d dealt with things before I went to bed… I’d still be in bed now. As is, he woke me up and clearly put it on my heart that I needed to email somebody and try to mend a fence and stand my ground at the same time.

This is not an easy thing to do. Especially when you flunked Home Improvement 101. Relating to people is SO hard for Bipolar Girl. The best part of this entire four day weekend was Thanksgiving because I spent it alone not having to deal with people and the drama that comes with them. God keeps telling me to step out of my bubble and begin to engage with people and for the life of me, I’m scared. People cause all sorts of feelings to well up in me that I have no idea how to handle. I have no idea how to express those feelings or know for sure if they really should be expressed.

The fact that God would wake me up in the wee hours to express some of those feelings now that I’m calm answers the question. But how do I deal with the problem?? Mental illness kept me in a cage. I never learned how to play well with others and my natural response when I feel hurt or threatened is to run. God does not want me to run from him people. It’s not like they are trying to hurt me. In general, Christians are not out to try to get anybody. Do people get hurt in the process? Have I been hurt in the process?? Again, a question that answers itself.

Repeating a bunch of memorized verses is not going to help me now, though I plan to repeat some once I get back into bed with the hopes that I will relax enough to go back to sleep for an hour or two. Watching the Geico Pig video wasn’t going to help me either. Writing helped. I could let the conflict stay up in the forefront of my mind and take on more weight and size or I could use the gift God gave me (writing) and try to mend a fence. I also emailed a friend and asked for prayer. And then I came here. It’s been a LONG time that I woke up in the wee hours of the night stressing about something. What I’m starting to sense as a common denominator is the amount of my stress is directly proportionate to the amount of time it takes me to seek God’s perspective and then act on his guidance. In the past, when I was actively moonlighting as Bipolar Girl I didn’t have anybody really to turn to with my stress so it pretty much ate me alive. The point, then and now, is that I’m not alone. God is with me… but he’s put a whole bunch of believers around me who are not out to get me.

Communication seems to be at the heart of this. I’m too tired to delve into that one right now. If I don’t get some sleep work is going to be a nightmare. Coming out of isolation is a good thing… but if I don’t grow in my ability to communicate with others then the resulting stress is going to force me back into my Bipolar Bubble and sitting in an imaginary bubble crying, “Wee. Wee. Wee” is NOT going to work for me.

 

*At 2:37 am… editing not included.

Stressed

Right now I am looking at my circumstances and I’m stressed. Actually... I’m looking at other people’s circumstances that happen to be colliding into my life and I’m stressed. For the first time in my entire life, my life is relatively drama free… and what do I do??  I’ve got to go and import other people’s drama just to shake things up a bit. The one safe thing about the Bipolar Bubble was that I generally could go unaffected by other people and their drama for months on end. In my rush to get out of the Bubble, I neglected to appreciate some of its benefits. Only having to deal with my own drama? I miss that.

Right now I feel stressed and tense and confused and angry… and a whole bunch of other things that I can’t even name.  And all because of other people. I’ve read my bible. Had my quiet time. Prayed for all kinds of stuff and I’m still tense approaching tenser.

Time to pick up the sword:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

That’s in the book of Phillipians somewhere. Can’t remember where right now. I’m going to meditate on that one and do what it says and I’ll let you know how that turns out for me.