Is Grace Sufficient?

Being an adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

All this crap with the step-daughter has made me not only depressed but also on edge. I can’t deal with criticism at all. I have all this pent up aggression which I’m trying to just let go of, and while I am letting go of it I need people to just be gentle with me. But my boss doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the word gentle.

I dealt with a difficult situation at work last week and was proud of myself for doing well, staying calm and polite but firm, and my boss still found something to criticise. I burst into tears. How embarrassing. It’s not the first time we’ve clashed. Twice before I have snapped at her and apologised both times. We have talked about how to work together better, have gone into what my triggers are and how we can avoid tantrums and so on. But I realised last week that I’m not strong enough to cope with workplace conflicts right now. My ability to cope with it is just non-existent.

So I went to Human Resources. I mean, my boss made me cry and then the following day pretended like it never happened. Now, if I make someone cry, even inadvertently, I apologise and rectify the situation. I have come to the conclusion that she simply doesn’t know how to handle me and is freaking out about the whole Bipolar thing. So I had a little chat with HR and the woman I spoke to is Bipolar! You can’t make this stuff up. She advised me to do things by the book. For my own protection. She has seen this sort of thing before, someone gets a bad feeling but doesn’t act on it and a few months later the whole thing blows up big time. So I’m being referred to Occupational Health (something I have resisted before) and we will talk about how to make my workplace a healthy environment for me, etc. The woman from HR was diagnosed with Bipolar 3 years ago and understands, so I trust her advice. She said that she wants me to be protected and she is concerned about the situation. She thinks I shouldn’t have to be dealing with workplace conflicts that result from ignorance about mental illnesses, at the same time as trying to fight my way out of a depression.

I had a chat with my boss the  next day and asked for us to talk it through, with someone from HR to mediate. She actually thought it was a good idea! But then, she loves procedures and systems… She still made me feel like it’s all my fault, even though she could clearly see that my hands were shaking badly. Oh well, I made it clear that I don’t want her to be uncomfortable in her dealings with me, and kept it quiet that the real reason I’m doing this is to protect myself.

Hubby and I visited my family this weekend and my Mum was preaching at church on Sunday. Her sermon was very thought-provoking. One verse she quoted has been reverberated around my head ever since:

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

I don’t have to do this by myself. Paul, who wrote this, referred to the thorn in his side. He pleased with God to take it away from him. And the above was God’s response. I can’t see God or feel God when I’m depressed. I can’t seem to find him. It feels like I’m dealing with everything on my own and messing everything up. I just feel like I can’t do this anymore. It’s to hard. But I know that God is still with me and He will help me if I rely on Him. So I’m going to write this verse on a piece of card and stick it to my computer screen at work.

Suck it up, Princess

So the step-daughter deleted and blocked me on Facebook, and did the same thing to every member of my family, including my teenage sisters. Now she can wallow in bitter self-pity for as long as she likes without any of us seeing. I’ve been cut out completely, I can’t see her children, it’s like I never existed. Ah well, such is life.

I’m depressed. I mean, I can laugh, I can joke, but don’t ask me to have any enthusiasm for anything right now because my brain appears to be unable to fake that. I’m faking everything else though. Oh yes, I’m fine… nope, I don’t care what she thinks of me… Isn’t church/work/studying great?… On and on. Getting a bit tired of telling everyone I feel fine though. I keep dropping out of things because I can’t face plastering another smile onto my face and pretending that this has all washed over me, the bullying means nothing to me because I’m strong. Strong strong strong. Yep, that’s Karita. She’s strong. Copes very well with shit like this. It’s weird, isn’t it, that the more you are screaming on the inside the more people seem to think you’re “looking well”. Oh Karita, you’re looking so much better than you were a few months ago, you look really happy.

My Dad made me laugh last night and I thought to myself that I did suddenly feel better. I woke up this morning thinking I felt better. But you know, I don’t. It’s all an act. Last week my Mum said, don’t let this knock you, Karita. Of course I won’t, Mum! I’ve come too far for that. Haha. I fake my way through my days at work and then I go home and watch telly all evening before finally flopping into bed before beginning the whole charade again the following day.

And the strange thing is, I don’t even really care what the step-daughter thinks of me. I have zero respect for her, after all. But I have worked so hard at this relationship for two and a half years. And now it’s all gone. I find myself staring into space, just going back over the same old crap over and over again, the same refrain banging uselessly against my head, “I hate her”. But I don’t think I do hate her, I’m just struggling to accept the fact that I’m out of their lives. After letting my life revolve around hers for so long I’m not entirely sure how to adapt to the sudden vacancy.

How nice it must be in her world, a world where you can blame everybody else for your own unhappiness, a world where you never have to take responsibility for your actions, a world where you can lash out at your nearest and dearest and then accuse them of being selfish. I, however, know that I can’t blame her for my depression, for my obsessive thoughts. I am responsible for my own actions, my own thoughts. I can continue to obsess over her, play the same tired old scene over in my head over and over again, or I can just suck it up. Now, would anybody like to tell me how to do that?

When the going gets tough?

Things have got bad. Really bad. So many specifics that I just can’t go into. Getting this off my chest whilst attempting to remain vague will be a challenge, but if I can’t write about my life here then where can I?

It’s the step-daughter. Of course it is. It always is. Things got bad a few months ago and we’re dealing with the fallout now. Hubby and I stayed at her house last night. For reasons I can’t go into. While we were there she started criticising her dad (he wasn’t in the room at the time). I told her very gently that I know she’s going through a rough time but I can’t listen to her saying bad things about him. She lost it with me, shouting, banging things around. I must be psychic or something because I just knew something like that would happen. I was agitated all day yesterday because I knew she’d overstep the line.

We went to bed as soon as it happened and left when we woke up this morning. I didn’t see her. She has been abusive towards me before. I have always removed myself from the situation. I couldn’t do that last night. We had to stay there.

Hubby went round to see her this afternoon. Asked her if she wanted us to be there again tonight. I was prepared to do it. But apparently I am self-involved, make everything about myself and I wind her up when I’m in her house. This from the most self-involved person I have ever met. It’s classic transference. I stand by what I did. She can piss on me all she likes but she will not piss on him. Not after everything he’s done for her.

I am just struggling to take in the sheer selfishness of it all. She lost it with me about six months or so ago, and I honestly did absolutely nothing to provoke it. I left. Later on she told hubby that she knew she was in the wrong and said she would apologise to me. She never did. I have never made her feel bad about that. After a few weeks I went back to her and have been there to support her ever since. I got some money for my birthday and spent all of it and more taking her and all her children out for dinner at a really nice restaurant. We spend our weekends with her. We have spent Christmas with her for the last two years and been thoroughly miserable because of it. I keep my mouth shut no matter how much she irritates me. We always put her first. I have spent the last two and a half years just doing whatever I can so that she knows she’s loved.

We listened to her drivel on about herself for five solid hours last night. She didn’t let up once. I listened and comforted and hugged. I gave her one of my tablets to help her sleep. I reassured her that things will get better. Then I very gently and calmly set my boundaries and she didn’t like it one little bit.

I won’t be spending any more time with her.

Now, of course, the problem for me is, what is love? I told myself I would love her no matter what. But I actually think I hate her. I have never hated anyone before. Not my step-brother who was physically abusive to my Mum. Not my ex-boyfriend who treated me extremely badly. But now? How do I deal with this? I can work on forgiveness, but it will take time. I can’t keep putting myself back into this situation, no matter how loyal my personality makes me. But how do I deal with this? Somebody please tell me, how do I deal with this?

Letting it Wash Over

Rambling post with not much in the way of structure coming up…

I was up in Newcastle this weekend for my Grandma’s 80th birthday party. I love being with my family, I don’t see them that often. They’re all mad (or rather, eccentric) and I fit in very well. We went to a restaurant on Saturday night, there were a lot of us, it was very loud and chaotic. I got overwhelmed when the waiters were calling out the names of what people had ordered, and my Dad noticed. He also struggles with that sort of situation.

However, he laughed at me and said that it was odd that that sort of chaos overwhelms me, but the chaos that the family generates doesn’t. In fact, I am often the instigator of that particular brand of chaos. I told him, “but you see, I understand Smith (not our real name) chaos”. I fit with them.

Hubby and I stayed with my Grandma over the weekend and she talked. A lot. She didn’t actually stop! We were looking at the family tree and she was describing how bonkers the family has always been. That’s how my Dad describes me: “Karita, you’re plain old, stark, raving bonkers! That’s why we love you.”

I’ll stick the rest behind the wall.

Unfortunately I’m in the midst of a depression. I’ve got so much to do and so little motivation to do it. I just want to hide away in bed.

My GP put me on antibiotics and an inhaler last week, and all the drugs pumping through my system are making me feel quite sick. Still, if I an get rid of the chest infection then I won’t mind.

She also increased the dosage of the Cymbalta to 40 mg. It will most likely go up to 60mg next time.

I had ideas of what to write but I can’t seem to make my brain work. All that’s going round my head is how much I have to do, what a busy week this is, and why, oh why did depression have to come now, when I enrol at uni this week and start classes next week?

Whiney Rant

Hi all. It’s been a while, I know. We had a lovely holiday, then I came back to work and have been rushed off my feet. New job, new responsibilities. I enrol at uni next week and then I’ll have studying to do as well.

I got a streaming cold the first week of our holiday. It hasn’t gone away. I think I’ve got a chest infection, and I’ve been coughing like a wheezy old man for a month. I also feel extremely nauseous. I’m sitting here now just trying not to throw up. My appetite has also gone from wanting to eat everything in sight to being unable to eat anything larger than a few flakes of cereal. There seems to be no middle ground with me.

I Googled nausea and Cymbalta today, and surprise surprise, it’s one of the main side effects. But I also found out something else. This drug can cause upper respiratory infections in up to 7% of patients. Excellent. So I’m on yet another anti-depressant that makes me ill. This is the fifth anti-depressant I’ve been on in a year. I feel like crying. I feel like saying bollocks to it all and just coming off the drugs. After all, I’ve been stable for a while now, I’m sure I’m strong enough to cope without drugs, right?

The very small sensible side of my brain says, “Bad idea, Karita”. I’m not going to make any rash decisions. I have an appointment with my GP tomorrow and hopefully she will bung me on some antibiotics and kill the chest infection. If I can get rid of the congestion maybe I won’t feel so sick all the time.

I have to remember: Stability is essential. I can’t give up the fight now.

All Change

Life has suddenly changed.

1. I start studying again next month.
2. My boss quit and I have been given her job! I start that next month too.
3. I am coming off Mirtazapine and starting Duloxetine (Cymbalta).

That last one is the one causing concern. I have to come off the Mirtazapine because it saps all my energy and makes me dopey. Life is about to become incredibly busy and I need my wits about me. So bye-bye Mirtazapine. I really wanted to go onto Wellbutrin/Zyban, but they just won’t prescribe it over here. The UK, backward land of the world. So I thought of Reboxetine, an NRI, as an alternative. For some reason my GP went with Duloxetine instead. An SNRI. It affects both Norepinephrine and Seratonin. You get the side effects of both SSRIs and NRIs. Yay!

SSRIs are bad for me. They make me anxious, agitated and push me into rapid-cycling, even with a mood stabiliser. If I had realised that Duloxetine affects Seratonin levels I would have refused it outright. But I only realised that when I got home and went on Crazy Meds. I am scared of losing my stability all because I need to be less tired.

Oh well. I guess I just have to put my faith in the good ol’ NHS once again and hope for the best. So far, I’ve been on SSRIs, which are fine on my body (apart from destroying my sex drive) but bad for my brain, and Mirtazapine, which is good for my brain and bad for my body. Maybe Duloxetine will be good for both my brain and my body. You never know.

On a lighter note… go and read this, it’s utterly hilarious!

Heads Up

Go read my Dad’s blog! He FINALLY has a new post up! Bless, him, he’s an ENFP, he can’t help being unreliable.

Paddling

Here are some of my thoughts from the past week or so:

I had an odd few days last week that have continued through the weekend and into today. It’s like I am having heightened emotional reactions to events. I’ll read something moving and all of a sudden my eyes are full of tears. I get overwhelmed with details at work and I feel like ripping everything up or punching a wall. But my sense of humour is spiked as well and I laugh quickly. On my way home on the train I started thinking of my sister who lives in Scotland and I got this powerful sense or memory of what it’s like being in her company and I missed her so much and so suddenly that it really took me by surprise. I thought of the two of us spending the afternoon in a pub somewhere getting gently drunk, talking and laughing.

Anyway, all this made me realise what extreme emotional reactions I was having, to events, memories, and so on. Weird. I still feel like it today. Easily frustrated by my job. Easily sparked off to tears by reading my book, which is just one of the books I used to read as a kid.

I don’t think it’s a mood episode, it doesn’t feel like one anyway. The nearest I can get to that is agitated hypomania – but the frustration is fleeting and I think it’s borne out of tiredness more than anything else. But I definitely feel … something … different.

The way I figure out if it’s a mood episode or not is by seeing if I am reacting to an actual event or not. If my emotions are one way and have no connection to events then it is a mood episode. Also, if something bad happens and makes me feel bad, but I continue to feel bad after the event has passed, then it is usually a mood episode.

But if the emotions are related to an actual event then I am reassured that it isn’t a Cyclothymic mood swing. It may be tiredness. It may just be part of what makes me me. I think that ADHD also plays a part in this. I have read that ADHD can cause more extreme emotional reactions (good and bad) in some people.

Anyway, I’m not worried about it, just observing. I am noticing that each day I’m having to work harder to motivate myself at work and to concentrate. I’ll be glad when I can have some time off to recharge my batteries before I start studying.

I had an extremely emotional weekend. My Mum got ordained on Saturday – I am very proud of her. She’s been working towards this for a long time. She is now a Reverend – I have nicknamed her The Reverend Mother. Then my step-Dad retired on Sunday, and my teenage sisters said goodbye to all their friends in the church before the whole family moves on Wednesday this week. Even Dad cried.

I was still doing my over-identifying thing with other peoples emotions. If I saw someone crying it made me cry. I’m not sorry that they are moving, I am glad they are moving. They have had a hard time these last few years. I am happy that they are moving to a new place and a new chapter. But I still felt sad to say goodbye to these people. I couldn’t tell if it was my sadness or if I was picking up on sadness from other people.

I also became over-stimulated a few times. Especially on the Saturday. There were over 100 people there. At one point I was talking and my Mum asked me if I needed the loo because I was moving my legs so much. I hadn’t even realised that I was tapping my feet and moving back and forth very fast as I talked. Usually that would be a sign of hypomania – but actually I seem to be developing a sense of if something is a mood episode or not and this time I think the answer was not. I think it was ADHD again, the hyperactive component – I got over-stimulated and got more and more hyperactive as a result.

I realised anew this weekend that I’m still at the beginning of recovery. I still don’t know who I really am, I still feel like I haven’t fully recovered my faith in God, I’m still fragile. I feel like a fragmented person. I react to different situations in different ways, most people see me as being very loud, but others see me as a bit aloof. People don’t often know which Karita they will get. There is no one coherent me. I have been wondering how to reconcile all these different parts of myself. Is it even possible? Have I been unstable for so long that I will remain erratic forever? There’s the intelligent, academic part of me, the scatty part of me, the loud, joker part of me, the sometimes harsh, sarcastic part of me, the loving, sensitive part of me, the hyperactive part of me, the insecure, paranoid part of me…

I want to be one, coherent person, who is at ease with herself.

This last week or so I have been experiencing emotions intensely. I have been thinking of this as yet another thing to get to grips with, learn to tame into submission. But it hit me last night that maybe this is who I am. A person who experiences all emotions very intensely, both my emotions and the emotions that come from other people. Maybe it isn’t something to be tamed into submission, squashed and made to play nicely… Maybe it is something to be accepted and even embraced. Maybe this is the real me.

Them’s my thoughts. Not entirely sure what to do with them. Somebody said something to me recently that I found helpful:

Before you were on meds you were in a boat without a paddle, now you are learning how to use the oars!

Daughter of God

At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:9-11)

Our church Minister has been away on Sabbatical for the last three months. He came back yesterday. Yay! I have missed his sermons.

Last night he preached on the verses above. And the message hit me like a tonne of bricks. A new lesson in the lesson that has been ongoing since last summer. The theme: I am free to be me. Why? Because I am God’s daughter, whom He loves, with whom He is well pleased.

The message above was God’s message to Jesus, but it applies to me too, and the explanation for that is here:

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. (Romans 8:15-16)

When I committed my life to Christ my sins were washed clean. Because of Jesus’ sacrifice for me, I am now a daughter of God. He loves me and He is pleased with me. I could write more, go into the complexities of this theology but I won’t. You know why? Because this is difficult enough for me to wrap my head around.

My mood has slipped slightly. I have slipped into some old thought patterns, allowed one person to impact my self-esteem in a way which has made me disappointed in myself.

Cocky, eh? Thinking that because I’ve been stable for a little while maybe I don’t need to be so vigilant against negative thought patterns. Yep, new beginning an’ all that. Stable mood, fresh insights…

But I suppose this is the real test. To cling to the truth when my brain tells me it’s not true. I am God’s daughter, He loves me, He is pleased with me. Not because of anything I have done, but because of what Christ did for me. What liberating truth.

Tiredness & Insect Watching

I’m tired. Really tired. I think it’s time to think about reviewing other options for anti-depressants because I am not coping particularly well with this level of exhaustion. However, I have to wait a while because I don’t have another appointment with the CMHT until the end of October (believe me, this is a good thing) and my GP is on holiday for two weeks. Still, I’ve been half-asleep for a good while now, I can get through another couple of weeks.

I’m also horrendously overworked just now. My boss is on holiday so I’m doing – or attempting to do – her work as well as my own. One week down, three to go.

Needless to say, I just can’t seem to summon up the necessary energy to write a proper post here. So I’ll give you this little story instead. This happened on my train journey home from work last Friday. I kid you not, this is how my brain interacts with the world.

I sat in my seat next to a window where I could gaze in as gormless a manner as I liked. A man sat down next to me. We ignored each other, as London transport etiquette demands. I noticed a little flying insect thing on the back of the seat in front of me. I hate flies. I detest them with everything that I am. I squash them without hesitation. I wanted to flick this one, and would have done if it had been of the bluebottle variety. However, 1) it was not of the bluebottle variety, it was long and thin and 2) I would have attracted the attention of the man sitting next to me.

So I watched it. I gave it my beady eye and promised it silently that if it made one move towards me I would flick it. I observed it closely. I watched as it washed its wings and its feet. It had very tiny feet. It was very meticulous about cleaning itself. I found myself drawn to it. After a while it started to walk up and down on the seat, flexing its wings. It moved forward and this is where I forgot that I was not supposed to be attracting the attention of the man sitting next to me. I leaned forward so that I could continue watching. And then I noticed the man staring at me.

Naturally I blushed. I pulled my earphone out and smiled in what I hoped was an endearing manner.

Man, one eyebrow raised: “Er…”
Me: “Well… er… I was just watching that little insect.”
Man: “Right.”
Me: “You see, I was considering flicking it, but then I got rather attached to it.”
Man: “Right.”
Me, blundering helplessly: “You see, it’s got very tiny feet.”
Man: “OK then.”

After we reached the next stop, and another passenger left the train, the man sitting next to me got up and moved to the seat in front of me. Away from the fly-watching lunatic. The fly had meanwhile also moved away to explore the window. The man sat down and then turned round to look at me again. I reassured him that if the fly came back again I would alert him immediately. He smiled and nodded. You know, like people do before they call the men in white coats.

Moral of the story: If you want to kill a fly, don’t watch it first because then you may become attached to it and feel too guilty to squash or flick it, and you may also humiliate yourself. Did I mention that the entire carriage of people turned round to stare at me and my fly?

To Daydream, Perchance To Forget

Hi there! Wow, it’s been, what, two weeks since I last blogged? Feels like a lifetime. I don’t usually leave it that long, and now I remember why – I think my fingers have seized up from lack of feverish typing.

Life continues to be grand here in my neck of the woods. I mean, nothing has changed (to the outside world at least) but my mood is good. Not too good, mind you. Everything feels new.

So anyway… that thing I was researching? Adult ADHD. I can’t believe I never properly realised it before, but since my mood swings have disappeared, I have noticed over and over again just how spacey I am. How much I daydream, how much I forget, lose track of, forget, trip over, forget, etc. I have thought about this before, I have even mentioned it to the psychiatrist, but her response was always something along the lines of, “Well, hopefully your concentration will improve soon”. Hopefully. That’s reassuring. The idea, I think, was that the poor concentration and appalling memory were a result of my moods swinging about all over the place. Apparently not.

So I did a bit of research. I had another appointment with the psychiatrist last week, and this time I was determined to go in prepared (which, incidentally, was a waste of time as my appointment was cancelled – again - I have another appointment tomorrow). It turns out I meet almost every single symptom of ADHD. And I have done for my entire life. I was a spacey little girl waaaaaay before the Cyclothymia took effect. I even had my own special table in primary school, with a special teacher to click her fingers and wave frantically in my face, to bring me back into the classroom every time I drifted off into a dreamworld. That was her full-time job – to stop me daydreaming.

I wonder if I would be diagnosed with ADHD if I was in primary school now? Probably not. People seem to think that only hyperactive, badly-behaved teenage boys have ADHD. And the ignorance doesn’t end there. In fact, I found out during my research, that up until a year ago this country didn’t believe that Adult ADHD existed. If you were diagnosed as a kid your meds would be taken from you at 18 and you would be left to fend for yourself, as ADHD simply disappears when you hit 18. For crying out loud.

There are guidelines now, but not many psychiatrists are trained to notice Adult ADHD, and it can take a long time to be referred to a specialist. Yay! But I’m determined to do this. I have been told all my life that I need to work harder, concentrate better, that I’m not living up to my potential, that I have no common sense… the list goes on and on. I just thought I was lazy, and spent far too much energy beating myself up for not doing better. I am about to start an MA and there is no way, now that I know about this, that I am going to fail to live up to my potential again. Going through the struggle with Cyclothymia has made me realise just how much drive and ambition I have. I am going to do well, and if help is available to me then I will do everything in my power to make sure I get it.

*Waves*

Hi all. Just to let you know I’m still alive and still happy. Yay! But I’m busy researching like mad – I’ll let you know what I’m researching next week when things should be a little clearer, but right now I don’t have much space in my head for blogging. See you soon!

The Beginning

Just very occasionally you can find a music album that you can really identify with. Music and lyrics that make your heart sing. I found one such album in “Revelation” by Third Day. While my moods were swinging all over the place there was one song that I most identified with when depressed and another I identified with when hypomanic. But there was a song that I really didn’t get. I mean, I liked it an’ all, and I thought the singing was lovely, but I knew that I had never really felt that way. Here are the words:

Today I found myself
After searching all these years
And the man that I saw, he wasn’t at all who I thought he’d be
I was lost when You found me here
And I was broken beyond repair
Then You came along and You sang Your song over me

It feels like I’m born again
It feels like I’m living
For the very first time
For the very first time
In my life

Make a promise to me now
Reassure my heart somehow
That the love that I feel is so much more real than anything
I’ve a feeling in my soul
And I pray that I’m not wrong
That the life I have now, it is only the beginning

It feels like I’m born again
It feels like I’m living
For the very first time
For the very first time
It feels like I’m breathing
It feels like I’m moving
For the very first time
For the very first time

I wasn’t looking for something that was more
Than what I had yesterday
Then You came to me and You gave to me
Life and a love that I’ve never known
That I’ve never felt before

It feels like I’m born again
It feels like I’m living
For the very first time
I’m living for the first time
It feels like I’m breathing
It feels like I’m moving
For the very first time
I’m living for the first time
In my life

As I listened to this song yesterday, I realised that I get it now. This is exactly how I feel. I have never felt this way before but I do now. It feels like everything is new. I have so much to process. This last year has been so hard. I have lost sight of who I am, lost my confidence in dealing with other people, in coping with my job, I have even questioned the existence of God.

But how faithful He is!

Last summer, I wrote about an experience I had at a church service one Sunday. The thoughts in my head were turning black at that point and I was suffering from high levels of anxiety. Here’s what happened:

One of the elders got up during the morning service and he said that he thought someone in the church had been thinking black thoughts. He wanted to reassure that person that God sees the depths of our hearts and all our thoughts and yet He loves us the same. I knew that that person was me.

That same elder prayed for me at the end of the evening serivce. I sat and waited, becoming more and more nervous with each passing minute. I had tears streaming down my face, I was shaking like a leaf, I couldn’t even breathe properly and I was just about to leave when he turned and saw me. He came over. All I could manage to do was to whisper, “I don’t like being prayed for”. He looked at me with such compassion and then started to pray. He prayed that I would come to fully understand the love God has for me, that God cherishes me, that I am His daughter. Then he looked at me and said that he believed I need to realise that I can be me; he said, “You are free to be you - be free. I don’t know if that means anything to you?”. I told him it does. He prayed some more then we chatted. I said that I had wanted to skip this service but I couldn’t because I was singing in the band. I had been fighting with God all the way through the service. He then told me that he was glad I hadn’t skipped because I was the person who came to his mind in the morning service.

Ten months have passed since that happened. Since then I have been on four difference anti-depressants, been diagnosed with Cyclothymia and started taking a mood stabiliser. Even though God reached down and touched me that day, even though that touch was so personal it took my breath away, I have still doubted that He exists. How little faith I have.

But now I am starting to get a tiny glimpse of what God was telling me that night. God saw my black thoughts, He saw my unbelief, and yet He loves me the same. He will never stop loving me, because I am His daughter. I am free to be exactly who I am, in all my oddities, my uniqueness, because that is the way He made me. This is why I can identify with that song. Everything is new to me. It feels like, all through this year with all the bumps and bruises I have sustained, God has been singing His song over me.

I feel like a rose bud just beginning to unfold its petals, just beginning to bloom.

I’ve a feeling in my soul
And I pray that I’m not wrong
That the life I have now, it is only the beginning

Stability

I’m feeling happy, people. Really happy. My mood is stable and has been for nearly two weeks (apart from one teensy little blip). I’ve started exercising every day and I’m proud of myself for that. I have things to look forward to.

I wrote something today and I thought I’d post it here too:

I’m still struck by how new it feels to be stable every day. Every day! Everything seems different. I’m so calm. Well, not all the time, I’m still me!

But I’m starting to see my “real” personality. I’m bubbly, but also a deep thinker. I like to ponder questions, I like to daydream. I still get nervous sometimes, but it’s not overwhelming me. I still have lots of opposites to my nature – the Cyclothymia emphasises that. Like the fluctuating self-esteem – sometimes high, sometimes low.

But I’m starting to see that even when my mood is stable I’m still full of contradictions – and I kind of like that.

I don’t feel the same need to be understood. I have always felt like I sit on the edges – people just don’t “get” me. I spent far too much energy on trying to be understood and accepted. Now I’m thinking, it’s OK to be different, I don’t have to get people to understand me straight away, possibly even ever. I just have to be. If people don’t get that then that’s not so bad.

I think that people will get the most out of a friendship with me if it’s long-term. If they’re not willing to be around for that long, if they can’t accept me, then that’s just their loss.

Some of today’s musings. Maybe I’ll turn this into a new “About” page.