This afternoon a dear friend came to visit. We haven’t seen each other for a year and it was good to catch-up. We ate chocolate biscuits, drank tea and chatted.
As I waved her goodbye, I pondered on the unexpected and pleasant feeling I had inside.
I felt loved.
She had listened to me without judging, trying to fix things or even offering to pray. She simply listened and loved me. As a result, I felt built-up and a tiny bit hopeful that there will be light at the end of this particular very dark tunnel I find myself in.
I have been blessed with some good friends.
First and foremost is Adi, my best friend and husband who supports me, prays with me, does funny things to make me laugh, takes me on late night walks when I’m too tense/angry/miserable/hopeless/hyperalert to find rest any other way, and loves me unconditionally.
There are a handful of other good friends too, people with whom I can be myself without fear of being judged.
Having a mental health condition is isolating and stops me doing ordinary things like going to church and socialising. It won’t always be like this (I hope) but for now, life feels limited because of the PTSD flashbacks, dissociation, and exhaustion that goes with those.
So when friends meet me in a ‘safe’ place for coffee/breakfast/dinner or visit me or text or email or ring, I am blessed. In that moment, hope and courage rise in me and I know there is going to be light at the end of the tunnel.
In that moment, I know I’m not alone and I feel loved.
As soon as I saw today’s Lent word – present – this post came to mind.
Living with post traumatic stress (PTSD) and related mental health issues often means a fight to stay present. Small things can trigger a traumatic memory: a scent, an action, a word, even quietly sitting reading. With little warning I’m catapulted into the past and reliving something I’d rather not.
Sometimes it is simply that the present moment feels too much and my body gives off danger signals, causing me to disconnect from reality. This can happen several times a day.
With intensive therapy, I’m slowly learning to recognise triggers and avoid them if possible. My amazing therapist has taught me ways of distracting myself to stay present and in the moment. One of my favourites is a word game: I go through the alphabet naming girls’ or boys’ names. If Adi is around and I’m struggling to stay focused and present, we take it in turns to call out names, the quicker the better.
Scamper is my little faithful standby. Concentrating on his furry head and smooth paws can help me stay present. If all else fails, he is a very comforting bear to hang on to in the emotionally-drained-and-exhausted aftermath of multiple disconnections.
I took this photo of Scamper in the superhero cape I knitted for him at a recent visit to my therapist.
I love reading and hearing stories of people who’ve been through extraordinary experiences. Two of my ‘go to’ books when I’m feeling low are Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place and Joni by Joni Eareckson Tada.
Corrie’s account of hiding Jews during WWII and consequently surviving Ravensbruck puts strength and heart in me, and reminds me of how to look at my own circumstances through an eternal lens. Joni’s story of learning how to live life abundantly again after a diving accident left her paralysed from the neck down also encourages me in the midst of difficulties.
Life for me over the past sixteen months has been testing and trying me to my limit (and beyond, it feels like sometimes). Struggling to come to terms with past events and mental illness, I am often overwhelmed, grieving and angry. Anger and grief beyond anything I’ve ever before experienced.
I have been reminded in the last few days that suffering is an expected part of life. We live in an imperfect world where people are selfish and do evil things. Suffering is the consequence. I don’t want my suffering to be for nothing. I am desperate for it to mean something, for there to be a purpose to it. To suffer for nothing leads me to despair.
Through testimonies like Corrie’s and Joni’s, I am reminded that with God suffering isn’t for nothing. My Father in heaven can somehow turn my past and present suffering to something good and beautiful. I am yet to see the fruit of this, but I am choosing to believe it will happen. This is God’s way: first comes suffering, then glory. Even Jesus had to suffer before the glory and reward.
Smith Wigglesworth puts it like this:
Great faith is the product of great fights.
Great testimonies are the outcome of great tests.
Great triumphs can only come out of great trials.
It’s that time of year again and I am taking part in Rethink Church’s Lent word-a-day challenge. Sometimes it will be a photo on Scamper’s Adventures blog and other days, like now, I will write a short blog post.
Today’s word is GIVEN.
I am broken,
but You give wholeness.
My life is ashes,
for which You give beauty.
My heart is heavy and I am in mourning,
You give me a garment of praise and oil of joy.
You give me comfort.
You give me peace.
When I am afraid and overwhelmed,
You are my strong tower where I hide.
Father, You have given me everything I need.
You have given Your Very Best.
Your own Son,
betrayed, abused, tortured, shamed, killed.
Because of Jesus given at the cross,
I can be forgiven,
I can be free,
I can live abundant life,
I know You.
You are my Father, Friend, Saviour, Lord, Comforter, Prince of Peace, Strong Tower, Place of Refuge.