The Pit

I’m in a pit.  Ever been in a pit?  It’s not a literal pit.  That would be easier to deal with.  The pit I’m talking about starts out as a whole in the fabric of life that somehow widens to a point where you fall through and then everything that is not resolved, on the horizon, or just plain has to be addressed with skills you do not possess, falls in on top of you.  

As I am sitting here in the pit with all the things that I cannot resolve and do not have answers for, I know one thing for certain...Abba is already here.  My head does not want to acknowledge this.  I am angry, and struggling against “doing” rather than “being”, but I do know beyond all other things that Abba has not abandoned me.  The reason I know should be easily ascertained.  I have been in many pits before; pits much deeper than the one I am in now.  Pits much darker and more laden with the debris from my messy life, and Abba was there.  I know because there was no way out of those particular pits except through him.  There was nothing my human intellect, prowess, or gumption could do to get me out.  In those particular pits I was in possession of none of those anyway.  Only Abba could and did get me out.

Still, I am sitting here once again wondering how I am where I am.  I think that I have walked in the way I know is the best.  I am not perfect, but Abba does not ask for my perfection.  He asks for my willingness, and I have learned after so much time with him that when all things in life are swaying back and forth, moving like objects on a boat deck in a storm, He is the one fixed and unmovable point in my world.  He does not move from my life, pack up his bags and take off saying, “Man, this kid is a mess, and I want nothing to do with it”.  He is an ever fixed mark on my very uncertain horizon, in my very uncertain real time moments. 

I am a pattern person.  As a behaviorist, I see patterns in people and behaviors.  I see patterns in human exchanges and motivations.  I rarely find a plot line I cannot figure out, mainly because writers tend to follow patterns with their story lines.  I see patterns in the habits and actions of those I live with, and I see patterns in me as well, though that is more difficult due to lack of objectivity.  I also see a pattern in my spiritual life.  I have a time of spiritual breakthrough where I make a gigantic leap of faith that results in major spiritual growth.  Then I am bombarded with all the messiness of life that causes me to begin to question who I am, what I have done, why I do what I do, and so on...you get the picture.  From there I can either freak out, which I seem to have a zip line to, of I can stand back and go to Abba.  It used to be I would freak out and pretty much stay in freak out mode indefinitely until I literally fragmented into little pieces.  But these days I freak out for a bit and then go to Abba with all my worries and fears.  That is better.  But I would so love to skip freak out mode and go straight to him.  

Here is something else I know.  I have a very specific educational background and skill set.  It makes me somewhat unemployable in the mainstream workforce.  That really alarms me, because I have a tremendous amount of school debt I am responsible for.  But I know that Abba moved me through the impossible to help me acquire the skill sets I have, so I know he has something in mind.  How?  Well I choose to trust he has a plan for my life.  I trust that he will not waste me, and the reason I know this possibly with more certainty than another person might is that he has plucked me from the jaws of death more than once.  So, I know there is a reason I am still here on the planet.  And to be frank, it is not because I have been enjoying life all that much over the past 40 years.  Heaven, in my mind, is much more appealing.  If you believe in heaven, you will identify with what I am saying, I think.  But here I am, still kicking, and I cannot believe Abba wastes his children’s lives.  If I am seeking his will in my life, then he will make straight my path, and I know he will never forsake me.

 

BUT, sometimes it is difficult to remember.  The weight of responsibility, the disillusionment of being a hamster running on the same wheel over and over and never really getting anywhere, feeling as though I catch the merest of breaths before I am hit with yet another wave, all make me very tired and depleted of (back to this word again) joy.  I am not joyful at present, not in the traditional sense, but here is a revelation...

Even though life sucks at present; even though I do not understand why I have done what I have done only to be at a door that opens into a brick wall, I have a peace and calm.  I did not have that an hour ago.  I did some spiritual reckoning, and I simply gave up my need to control and claw my way out of the pit.  I simply said, “Ok, here is my mess.  I have made mistakes, but for the most part, I have done what you asked.  I am angry; very angry that I am in this place, but I trust you, and I love you.”  That was my prayer.  And as I sit here typing this I have a calm and peace that has not existed in quite some time.  That is how I define joy at present.  

So, no matter what happens; if I’m the most educated housekeeping person on the planet, the least lucrative writer online, or the domesticate with unreal behavioral assessment skills, I will seek to be content in all.  I do not understand why things do not work out or why they work out as they do, but at the end of my tantrum I have to accept that I’m just not going to understand, and I am going to choose to trust that Abba does.

If you are in a pit, whatever is falling on you, or however deep that pit is, whether you agree with me or no; whether you believe me or no, I cannot make you change your mind, but you are not alone.  It’s your journey, and I have my own.  I am a very slow learner, so who am I to posit an opinion into someone else’s journey, but I do know that Abba is already in the pit.  I know that he is not afraid of my mess or your mess.  He is not afraid; simply that.  HE is not afraid, no matter how much you and I are.  And, one of the things I valued most in my dad growing up was his ability, no matter how afraid I might be, to not be afraid and to reassure me that everything was going to be fine.  He still does that for me.  How much more can my Abba do that for me?  Infinitely beyond my reckoning...and yours.  

Peace

L

Defamation of Character

Some time back I mentioned a show on TNT called Perception.  It is about a brilliant neuroscientist/professor who helps the FBI and has paranoid schizophrenia.  In the last episode I watched Dr. Pierce had to testify in court, and his information made it difficult for the prosecutor to get a conviction.  As a last ditch effort, the prosecutor defamed Dr.  Pierce’s character to discredit him by bringing up his illness.  I was angered at this and saddened, because even though it is a television show, the content is so indicative to reality.  Speaking of reality...

I made a choice many years ago to be vocal about my illness, because I wanted to help people who do not have the support structure I do.  In doing so, I have opened myself up for discrimination and even slander.  It goes with the territory, but it is not always easy to shrug off stereotypes that go along with stigma, and no matter how much I achieve in life, I am still very often relegated to being defined as crazy.  While I confess to have crazy moments, it has been many years since I have taken a committed seat on the crazy train.  

I mention the above because I recently was contacted by an individual (party 1) who had spoken to another individual (party 2), someone I had a relationship in my twenties.  Party 1 had been told I had stalked party 2.  I confess to feeling a bit violated and not sure which answer to provide.  My husband was amused at first and said, “Really?  That is something a passive-aggressive person does.  You are just not the stalker type.”  Then he was angry that someone would slander me.  His anger on my behalf helped me step back a bit and objectify the situation.

I responded to party 2, in spite of the juvenile fascination this person showed to get into other people’s private business and nose around, with a generic response, because I did not feel either party worthy of my thoughts.  But I have been pondering the impact my being vocal has on such accusations.  I write a blog that is available on the Internet.   I share information about dealing with mental illness both professionally and personally, and in situations where I am accused of something so far outside of societal norms, my openness about my illness does not negate such accusations, but rather supports them.  

People who stalk are generally delusional.  There is a fixation that if fueled by anger, rejection, or refusal to accept reality.  When a situation arises where one party hurts another, anger and rejection are normal aspects of pain and hurt, but to exhibit pathological tendencies there has to be a psychosis in place to warrant such a deviation from behavior acceptable to societal norms.  Rather often such individuals are not dealing with mental illness but with a personality disorder of one type or another, and obsession is a welcome attendant in the field of personality disorders.  

My particular poison does not manifest delusion, fixation, or obsession.  My illness operates on the platform of extreme moods which at one time made me aggressive, not passive, so my methods for dealing would not be covert in any way.  I find it interesting that I watched that episode on Perception only to have something of similar impact occur in my own life a few days later.  I was reminded with the combination of both experiences that I cannot control what others say about me.  I share my journey because it IS flawed, and as such, there is room for those from my past to insert their ideologies whether fact or fiction, but I cannot stop that.  I make an effort not to hold others’ pasts against them or up to them as a means to reduce them, for I believe contributing the positive into this world is a much better use of my time, but for some there is a sick fascination with the negative, and in this particular case, untruth.  It is what it is.

I have no narcissistic need to see myself plastered on Internet feeds.  I am public because I want people to know that if I can make it, anyone can. I am no one special.  I have a good brain and have worked to achieve academic standing but it was not without a lot of help and support.  So, I guess there is a lot of availability for defamation of character.  To the two parties involved in my above scenario, there is no need to make up things...There are plenty of things I have actually done that you can use if you have a need.  Just read my blog.

Oh and one more thing as an ironic point of interest, when I was doing research on personality disorders in my undergrad work, I used Party 2 as a point of reference :)

L

  

Sinking Ships and Silver Linings

The above is a little pug that showed up on our doorstep the other night.  She was wet, hungry, and very lost.  We took her in, fed her, and gave her a place in our garage.  We spent the next morning running interference between our dogs and our little visitor as we tried to figure out what to do.  We wanted to see if she had a chip but did not want to have to leave her at the shelter.  We knew we could not take on another dog with our particular situation and the three animals we already have.  I spent the morning very unsettled and conflicted, praying Abba would help us find her home.  

Finally, at noon we drove to the shelter to see if it was open before hauling her in.  Chris came back to the car after a few minutes with a smile on his face.  The owner had been in a few minutes before and was frantic to find his dog.  We met Angel’s family at our house and a wondrous reunion ensued.  I stood back watching the situation smiling to myself, thinking that in the midst of all the messes I see around me, SOMETHING worked out to the positive.  

Now I admit I am not really a “silver linings” person by nature, but I make a real attempt in everyday life to cultivate the practice.  Still, life sometimes sees so bleak, and help is always so many hills away that it seems unattainable.  I know what it is like to be drowning in circumstance.  And when I’m drowning, if someone is standing on the shoreline, dry and firmly anchored, telling me to pin a smile on my face, I want to grab them, pull them in, and then tell THEM to pin a smile on THEIR face.  So do not misunderstand this blog...I'm not telling anyone to pin a smile on.

After all the detailing I have done on the topic of joy, I know that in the midst of the proverbial undertow, there is solid ground.  I know there is, but it never resembles what I think it will.  I find that when I am drowning in life, Abba sends what I need to survive.  He rarely plucks me from the mess, though, something I tend to think he should do.  He gives me what I need to pause, catch my breath, and begin to confidently swim through it, one stroke at a time.  

I have worked with families for many years that have a loved one who is mentally ill and refuses to “deal”.  Most of what I do is give permission for those family members to draw lines with that loved one.  See boundaries keep that mentally ill loved one from dragging the entire family down with him or her.  I can give permission, because I have a mental illness.  I know what it is to be drowning in crazy, but I also know to grab hold of a branch when it is extended, and I know it is possible to choose to stay on the shoreline rather than continually jump back in.  I have done it.  

Families need to have permission to refuse to be taken out when that loved one continues to jump over and over again into instability.  What families forget is that each member plays a role, a vital part to the familial unit and there should be balance.  When sickness occurs with one individual the entire unit becomes consumed with the person and trying to get him or her back to health if possible.  But with mental illness, there is no cure, no relief, so if that person who is mentally ill refuses to take on his or her responsibility in the situation, imbalance continues.  Eventually the familial unit that has been bending past normal flexibility begins to crack.  Divorce happens, other children in the unit begin to display behavioral problems, and other family members begin to develop health problems.  So here it is, for my friends who have a mentally ill person in their family.  If you had a friend who was in your situation, and you could see that person’s entire family was imploding because the person with a mental health problem refused to take responsibility for his or her illness, what would you tell your friend?  

Let us say you are a member of my family.  I have weight issues, but instead of watching my diet, I go to you and tell you to diet for me.  What would you tell me?  Seriously?  If I am a diabetic and I tell you that it’s not fair that I am a diabetic, so I want YOU to take my insulin for me, what would you say?  If I have cancer and I don’t want to deal with chemo, but I want you to do it for me, what would be your response?  

A person with a mental illness is no different than the overweight person, the diabetic, or the person with cancer in the sense that the treatment cannot be willed to another member of the family no matter how much desired.  Now, with a diabetic, we know that doctor would not allow that, and the ramifications of taking insulin in a correctly functioning body could be deadly; same with cancer and chemo.  But here is the deal...the treatment for mental illness, whatever that is, must be taken on by the person afflicted.  When the rest of the family takes on the responsibility, the ineffectiveness of that continual action begins to destroy the rest of the family.  Am I making sense here?  If you make the decisions for that mentally ill person; if you continually enable that person by excusing, coddling, or just flat out hold on too tight, you are taking his or her insulin.  You are taking his or her chemo.  Stop it!  It’s going to take you all out.

It is so difficult for parents to draw boundaries with their mentally ill children.  Heck, it’s hard for parents to draw boundaries with their healthy children these days.  I empathize with the guilt that goes with the illness in a child.  But I’m going to lay out a cold hard truth here, and I hope that if it resonates with you, you will know that I am saying this because I care...

I loved my mom and dad so much that I was not willing to pull them in with me over and over.  I had no idea if I was going to survive my illness.  But I had Abba to cling to, and he helped me find ways to sustain stability.  Still, had I not had that, I would have expected, still expect, my family to draw very hard lines with me regardless.  If I do not take care of my mental health; if I do not continue to try to adjust medications, relationships, and environment until I find something that helps keep me on the shoreline, I EXPECT them to walk away from me.  I have their word that they will do that.   

If your child, specifically an adult child, is unwilling to take responsibility for his or her illness, because “I need my manias”, then you have to draw some boundaries.  That person is an addict just as if he or she were on drugs.  The high is very similar, and with some, mania last for months.  Those of you who have been through this kind of situation know the devastation that can occur in that period of time.  

You must look at what that person’s illness is doing to you.  If you are in no way impacted, then by all means, carry on, but in all the years and many many families I have worked with, I have never found any that were impervious.  Set some boundaries, and if you need help with that, contact me.  I can help you get started.  But it is imperative that there aren’t multiple casualties.  If you do not do this, you cannot blame that mentally ill person for what you lose.  You have no one to blame but yourself.  And one day you will realize that you are unhealthy, that you have not laughed in a very long time, and you can no longer even see silver linings.  I don’t want that for you.  That is not an imperative of coping with mental illness.  No matter what you may think, no matter the grief you may encounter, Abba does not desire you go down with the ship, especially when the ship itself has the potential of not sinking but is choosing to go ahead and sink anyway.  

L

Lael8@yahoo.com

Walk Calmly

I am back to joy.  Well, I’m not back to joy, but I’m back to thinking about having joy.  I know I have addressed the difference between happiness and joy, but I have still not been able to let go of the idea that I am missing out on an epiphany.  Today it finally happened.  What I have discovered about epiphanies is that they come in different sizes.  Today’s epiphany was not a large one, but I think the ripples it will create in my life could end up being quite large.

My family is in transition again.  Some of us are on the precipice of career changes, some of us are moving, but all of us are waiting for the gate to open to let us into the new pasture.  For me, the current placement of my body, mind, and soul is uncomfortable.  I am uncertain about so much, and as I look around at the state of some of the lives of my friends and what they are dealing with.  I find I am tempted to be fearful for what lies ahead for me and mine.  

I know full well, just based on my own fractious past, that life is not easy.  It just isn’t.  So when I think of the great apostle Paul and his confession that he has learned to be content and joyful in all things, I am a combination of skeptical and irritated.  Paul spent much of his life being beaten and in prison, and yet he claimed to be content in all things.  Really?  I can discount his claim and cite it as a negligent translation, or I can look at what he may have meant.  Until this morning I have not been able to do the latter.  

A phrase came to mind from a Stephen Curtis Chapman song, “...walk calmly with our God”.  It began to play on the record player of my mind until I realized that life is a series of events, and my ability to walk calmly through each is directly dependent on my dependence on Abba.  And for me, walking calmly is the impetus of joy through all of life’s successes and tragedies.  

Imagine you are sitting in a chair and there are images floating by in full color.  You see your fifth birthday, your first kiss, the death of a friend, your marriage, the birth of a child, the loss of a child, finding out you have cancer, laughing with your best friend, a divorce, more death, and so on...

These pictures are the moments of your life.  They ebb and flow.  They are not all from Abba.  Some of them are meant to break.  Some are meant to make, but what I realized today, is that I cannot stop or instigate the moments of my life.  I cannot take them and separate the good from the bad then put them in any kind of order other than how they have occurred.  I cannot give them to someone else, and I cannot duplicate them.  What I understand now is that no matter what happens in my life.  No matter what pictures play on my life screen, I have the promise that I can walk calmly through each.

I have decided Paul was not talking about joy and contentment in the sense we generally consider the two terms.  He meant that he is able to walk calmly with Abba, and that calm in the eye of life’s storms produces joy; is the essence of joy.  It is freedom in the midst of crashing containment.  The peace that comes from calm sojourn when everything seems to indicate a need for panic and frantic abandon is nothing short of joy for me...Maybe even bliss.  Why?  Because there is nothing more valuable to me in the midst of the roller coaster ride than to know I am safe, comforted, and I can relax and embrace the calm that comes from knowing Abba is walking right beside me.

Happy 4^th!

L