Our Past Follows Us.

 

My husband loves the dozens (actually, a lot more than that I think) of Christmas movies that are found on Netflix and Amazon Prime. He has always liked action movies too, but lately he has focused on these Christmas movies. I find most of them sappy and badly written, but some of them are really good.

Last night, when we were watching one, my husband said, “I like these kinds of movies because they show happy families. I grew up in an unhappy family so it’s nice to see.” I’m so glad he told me that, because as tough as my husband is, and anyone could tell you he is a tough guy, I wondered why he liked these movies.

I know someone who loves crime shows. But she only likes the ones where the criminal is caught. She wants to see that person go to jail or executed. I think she gravitates to these shows because in her childhood, her life was threatened by a family member in the middle of the night. She would wake up with a sharp knife at her throat.

I like to read books or watch movies about real people who have overcome great difficulty: abuse, neglect, an illness. I think I am always searching for answers how to overcome my past.

Years ago, I used to have a recurring dream. My father and I were in a bus; he was driving and I was in the passenger seat. I looked over at him and he was laughing maniacally while speeding along the highway. Then I would wake up.

After years of therapy and talking with God I began healing. One night I had the same dream, except this time I was driving and he was in the passenger seat. I was feeling peace.

I have healed quite a bit, but I’m not cured of my mental illness. I still have problems with how I see myself. I still have automatic thoughts that plague me. But I am better, by the grace of God who helps me every day.

I have to ask him for that help. I can’t sit back day by day leaving God out of my life. I need him. If I don’t give myself to him each day, I start waking up wishing I was dead. I start getting depressed and hopeless. He keeps me from all that by prayer so that even if these thoughts pop up, I know he will help me. I just say, “God, I don’t want to think that. Give me something good to think.” And he does.

May God help all of us who have psychological problems. They can be devastating, but may God give us strength to walk through them.

 

Suicidal Thoughts.

Photo by Lisa Resager

https://www.flickr.com/people/68978695@N00

The first time I had suicidal thoughts was when I was 14. I had moved from middle school into high school. I had never felt comfortable in school or around people. School had been a slow torture for me from kindergarten.

There was a guy in school that I liked and I found out he liked me. He asked to take me to a hayride the school was sponsoring. I said yes, even though I was terrified. It was to be my first real date. I bought a beautiful blouse to wear. But the date was a disaster because I couldn’t speak. I answered his questions with one-word syllables and never asked him a thing. Eventually, he gave up trying to talk with me.

Later, at home, I realized what I had done and felt hopeless. The thought of going back to school and seeing him again and telling my girlfriends what had happened was too much. I took all my brother’s sleeping pills. They pumped my stomach and my parents took me out of school. They also sent me to a psychologist.

I was home-schooled by a government teacher and got straight A’s. I felt happy not having to try to cope with school. But by the end of that school year, they said I could go back to a regular school. I went back, and I did make some good friends. I got in trouble with my father though because in our church dancing was a sin, and he kept finding out I went to dances. He beat me with a belt. When I was young, he had sexually molested me, but I had somehow forgotten all that.

So, at seventeen, I was depressed about my life. I remember saying to myself, “No one in the whole world loves me.”  And it was true. So, I drove to a cliff and was going to drive off of it. But I was too scared to die that way. I went home, went in my parent’s bedroom and stole money from my father’s wallet. I was going to run away and maybe find love somewhere else. But My father heard me and stopped me. Instead, they sent me away to relatives in Canada. I got a job and friends and felt better.

The last time I wanted to kill myself was a few years ago when my husband and I moved out of our daughter’s house into our own apartment. I had been babysitting their daughter who has OCD. She was 14 and didn’t need me anymore. But I wasn’t prepared for the deep depression that came upon me like a black cloud.

I was depressed because I was lonely and also sick. Because of my illness, I couldn’t leave the apartment. I was terribly lonely; I barely saw my daughters and grandchildren. I hated my new life so I decided to put a stop to it. I took my husbands sleeping pills and passed out on the living room floor. He found me like that and an ambulance took me to the hospital where I was saved once again. He only had 10 pills left, so they just put me in a bed where I hallucinated for hours and eventually became normal.

I have told some of this story before, but I heard something on a podcast last night that brought it all back to me. The podcast is: The Zeitcast with Jonathan Martin. The topic was: Religious Trauma, Depression, & Suicide in the Church. One of the things his guest, Tony Caldwell, said was wonderful. He said something like, “When someone wants to kill themselves, something has to die alright, but not the person. It is the thoughts that make you want to kill yourself.”  Yes! Just wow! If only depressed people knew this was possible. We can change our thinking! We just have to learn how.

What helped me the most when I was depressed, besides therapy, and writing a journal, was reading this, “If you want to kill yourself, it is because you love that thing you are killing yourself over more than you love God.” I am a Christian, and I’ve been one since I was 19. I was sure I loved God more than anyone, but I was wrong. I knew God wouldn’t want me to kill myself, but I didn’t care. I was horribly lonely and hated my life the way it was, therefore, I loved my family more than God. I wanted them more than I wanted God. That is where my heart was.

So, I turned to God and said, “Well, Lord, it is just you and me now. I pray you will give me some purpose and something to live for. He did. He came close to me with comfort. I spent more time praying, especially when sad feelings came. I asked him to find things for me to do, and he did. I started painting and woodworking. I finally had a reason to get out of bed. Slowly, I became happy and now I feel full of joy almost all the time. Whenever I start feeling sad, I praise God out loud and quote the Bible. The feeling of joy returns. This is a daily struggle, but now that I know God always comes through for me, I never, ever feel hopeless.

I used to feel like such a misfit. I used to feel I didn’t belong. But God has shown me I am exactly the person he wants me to be and I always was because he has been with me, helping me. I now see my weakness as a great asset, for it has brought me to him and shown me how much I need him. Suffering has also made me sympathetic towards others.

After God refused to heal Paul of a “thorn” in his life he wrote, 

“He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest on me.  That is why, for the sake of Christ, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9,10

God Lifted Me Up.

A bog.

I was re-reading Psalm 40 and was moved to gratefulness again.

Psalm 40:

I waited patiently for the Lord;

he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock

and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a new song in my mouth,

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear the Lord

and put their trust in him.

I do feel God has lifted me out of a miry bog, or quicksand. I was sinking because of the memories of my father sexually abusing me. I was sinking in shame, mental illness and depression. But through the years he lifted me up out of that.

It didn’t happen quickly. It takes time for the mind to heal. Therapists also helped me. Am I completely well body and soul? No. But I am now standing on the rock, Jesus. My feet are no longer slipping and sliding. I understand how to run to him, to pour out my heart to him and to let him give me peace. Perfect peace? Yes and no.

 You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.  Isaiah 26:3

I used to think that when we had perfect peace it would never go away. But I was wrong. Our peace is disrupted when life brings obstacles or tragedy. Satan messes with our peace when he whispers negative thoughts to us.

So, we have to go back again to God and tell him how we feel and ask for his peace. We need to go again and again through the day and quote uplifting Bible verses praising God. Satan cannot stay where God is being praised and trusted. This is what I think Paul meant when he wrote, “Fight the good fight of faith.”

I learned most of this through Joyce Meyer. I watch her TV show every day. She focuses on how to live the Christian life. She was raped by her father for most of her childhood. She understands.

I still have a mental illness. I still hear my little girl inside say things. But I don’t mind too much. I try my best to stay away from things that trigger me. I can honestly say I am mostly happy and at peace. It is a wonderful feeling. He lifted me up out of the slimy pit, out of the mire and mud.

Psalm 40 is a Messianic psalm. Commentators have said the feelings expressed in this psalm are what Jesus felt. I’m going to write about that next time.

Heather is Healing!

Heather, my sister's girlfriend, is a lovely woman who was told this year she had cancer of the cervix that had spread throughout her body.  After three rounds of chemotherapy, they told her the cancer was terminal. The doctors told her they would put her on a new kind of chemo that would prolong her life.

But when she and my sister were at the hospital, one of the technicians said, "We shoot Heather with glucose, because cancer loves sugar and lights up so then we can see it on the scan. My sister said, "If cancer loves sugar, why don't cancer patients stop eating sugar?"  He scoffed at that and said, "Everyone needs sugar."

Well, Heather has gone on a no-sugar diet and guess what? Her tests are showing the cancer is dying! She is healing! Will this be an absolute cure? We don't know yet, but it sure looks good. We are all over the moon with happiness. 

This no-sugar diet was not easy for Heather. She used to drink soda pop all day and have lots of candy. No more. She has a lot of protein and complex carbs. She is very, very happy at this result.

We just want to praise and thank the Lord for all of this. We know he leads us when we ask him. Heather was ready to die, as I wrote about earlier. She gave her life into his hands and was at peace. Like the Psalm says, "Even if I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."