Stand firm

Tonight I’m grateful. For once, I’m grateful for my illness. It’s taught me to be strong, to stand up for what I believe. I’ve learned to crave knowledge of the truth and to share to others. In saying that, today was hard. More than hard. Agonizing. 
It’s 1:17 and I’m still wide awake. Tears keep forming and I’m hastily wiping them away. Makelore is quietly playing on my phone. 800 mg of Seroquel and 6 mg of meletonin have done nothing to induce sleep. I feel queasy and hot. My heart is in my throat, beating heavily. 

What has me so upset? My faith was challenged tonight. No, that’s wrapping tonight’s events in a pretty little bow. It’s more like a five year old just demolished all their gifts on Christmas morning. Wrapping paper and ribbon shroud the floor. Boxes are thrown everywhere. It’s chaos. 

I stand firm in my faith. I am a follower of Christ. I believe He is my lord and savior. Jesus came to earth as a physical embodiment of God to die for our sins, so that we may have eternal life. I love the Lord and live my life for him. I work for and teach at church. I spend half my week in the fellowship of other believers where we study the word. I want to grow in my love and knowledge of the Bible. 

So when the leader of my bible study tried to tell our group the antrichrist is here and Jesus will come within the next year, to say I was floored was an understatement. Why? It’s not a teaching of the church we go to. When I pointed that out, he said he didn’t care. What?!?! Hold the phone here! These beliefs were backed by more conspiracy theory. Why do I call it that? He had no concrete evidence of his beliefs. Someone else asked where he was getting his information and he simply replied, “It’s out there.” Well fuck yeah! You can find anything on the internet now. I can find plenty of “information” saying Hitler was perfect and his beliefs and are true. 

I believe in the Bible. I also believe in history. History that is gathered by multiple sources and can be corroborated. You can’t pluck a word here and a phrase there. Same goes with the Bible. Call me crazy. I live for the truth. 

I have already made certain concessions going to this church. They are very conservative on a whole. I’ve had people, who are very close to me, say things that I wholeheartedly disagree with. That’s fine if you find homosexuality wrong. But to say you wouldn’t trust your child with someone who is openly gay? How homophobic. They would be so surprised if they knew people’s identities behind closed doors. I’m sure some people they think are so great aren’t and same goes for all those “heathens” out there. When you treat people as Jesus did, and commanded us to do, you find a beautiful world out there. One with so many more colors than you could ever imagine. 

I’ll end with these beautifully written lyrics by Macklemore:

America the brave                                        Still fears what we don’t know And God loves all his children it’s somehow forgotten.                                                          But we paraphrase a book written 3, 500 hundred years ago                                             I don’t know

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Hell or Bipolar Depression?

Bipolar depression is the worst. It tiptoes in and then knocks you down like a wrecking ball. You become crushed, unable to even sit up in bed. Phone calls, texts, voices, nothing can coax you out of your unintended den you have burrowed in. Tears slowly creep out, but you can’t wipe them away. It’s too much work. Your body can’t move your arm and finger to swoosh away the rain you’ve made. 

Your heart becomes a brick barely able to pump the blood that you don’t want to keep you alive. You pray for it to stop. It takes too much energy to conjure up other ways to die. Your brain has turned to sludge and is just unable to think. All you know is your body is failing. 

Bright colors hurt. Light and sunshine scare you to the point of shaking. You know they represent happier days. Days where you can run and twirl and yearn to clothe your body in all those colors that hurt right now. 

It’s just so hard to breathe. Hard to move. Hard to speak. Hard to think. Will this hell ever end? When will I wake up out of this nightmare?

Going, going…

I am so overwhelmed right now. Overwhelmed to the point of not knowing what to do next. Begging my eyes to cry for an emotional release. My breaths are ragged, shallow, shaking. I keep sniffling but don’t know why. Glass were thrown haphazardly on the counter when I staggered in 30 minutes ago. Now, my vision is blurred if I dare look beyond my phone. My room is covered in dirty dishes and hangers scattering the floor. Multiple pairs of shoes are clustered next to my bed, too heavy to pick up and put away. My head is spinning but body is dead. I don’t know what else to type. What else to do. What else to think…

A Holy Judgement 

What a beautiful day to worship, for fellowship, to be in the holy place we call church. Songs and prayers and readings all combine for a special experience. It’s uplifting, a judgment free zone. Come as you are. Everyone is loved. 

If all that’s true, then why is Sunday my most stressful day? Dress nicely but don’t overdue it. You don’t want to look ostentatious. If you don’t dress up enough, you just don’t care. Do not forget your bible. If you do, you will be judged! Yawning is an unforgivable sin. How dare you not take this seriously? 

Most of all, smile!

Happy as yellow and the sun?

Life is good, it’s great. My ankle has healed from the reconstructive surgery I had 9 weeks ago. I’m sleeping again. My energy is up to the point where, after years, I redecorated my room and now love it. Bright colors, white billowing curtains, an awesome rug, it’s so happy. My surgeon fully cleared me, and I went on my first walk with my adorable dog, post op, yesterday. Neuropsychiatry and neuropsychology have piqued my interest and I’m devouring books on the topics. My faith is growing stronger, and I’m back to talking to God daily. 

I feel so empty. With all of that in the last paragraph, I feel bad. Is depression again? Numbness? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I’m struggling with not abusing Vistaril (Atarax). My psychiatrist, for obvious reasons, won’t prescribe anything harder. I can relax when I take a few, my brain slows to a pace where I’m not overthinking everything. I can’t tell my therapist, my psychiatrist. My therapist is new, I’ve only seen her twice. The last one started canceling on me over 50% of the time. That’s just ridiculous. 

Everyone else invades my thoughts. I keep comparing myself to them. What a horribly stupid thing to do, I’m fully aware. Small groups are wonderful, I truly believe the lifeblood of the church. I love and hate mine with such passion. Those women are so sweet, so caring, so loving. It’s so obvious I’m the odd duck out there. They all have wonderful, fulfilling careers. Due to my surgery, I had to quit what I considered my perfect nanny job. Adorable kids, sweet parents, the best hours. Now, I’m a pet sitter. Not a bad gig, but sure doesn’t pay the bills and absolutely not a job to blink for. 

Yes, I know I need to give myself grace. I have multiple, serious illnesses that are treatable but not curable. I work my ass off to keep myself healthy. Two different types of therapies every week. I’m med compliant and never skip psychiatrist appointments. I finally got in with a gastroenterologist center that’s nationally known and have an appointment next week. You automatically see a nutritionist while you’re there, which I’m greatly looking forward to. I’m even back to exercising and have been losing weight. I should be proud of everything I’ve accomplished. Last year at this time, I was strung out on Benzos and, unbenounced to me, getting ready to enter the hospital due to it all. I hadn’t worked in years. 

But I still feel so empty. My chest hurts. If only I could cry (Ha, I went to a bar a couple of nights ago and was practically attacked by some guy I’d never met before, because I can’t show my feeling. He only knows about PTSD and assumed I have it and, unfortunately, has no concept of any other mental health problems. Do not get into an argument with me if you don’t know your shit. I’m going t run circles around you.). I love my church, Sunday school class, bible study, and small group. When I go to any of those I always have to fight the feelings of being alone, empty. Yes, I’m in a class with other singles that are my age. Everyone seems to be in a relationship, are pursuing someone or being pursued. If it’s not that, they have really close friends. I can easily go, get a couple of hi’s and a hug or two, and then sit down without anyone really noticing. Last time I went, I tried to join a couple of conversations before, feeling defeated, sitting down. I was at an empty table. Did my small group sit with me? No. That made me feel shitty. They just didn’t see me? I never asked. Luckily, my table filled up and pleasantries were exchanged with me. Should I say something? The thought plagued me for a week. I eventually asked why I’m not invited to anything  I’m not exaggerating on that one. I had set up the rule that during small group we only talk about events all of us are invited to. Of course that doesn’t happen. “You’re going to be invited to things now that you’re healed. Everyone is ready for you to be back.” The thing is, I’ve been back and haven’t been invited. There was a game night last Saturday. It was talked about at small group and at the bar this week. Wow, that makes me feel so welcomed and included. If you’re ready for me to come back, wouldn’t you invite me to events so I can actually come back? I’m sure I’m overthinking things here. I mean that’s my number one awesome quality. 

I just feel lost. I really want a few mg of Xanax, a blunt, and a couple beers. Ha! Is that too much to ask?