Fear.

Fear. An overwhelming emotion I’ve had all my life. At the age of 72, fear still invades my mind, even though I rarely leave my apartment in an attempt to not risk being afraid and acting strange in public. But of course, in your apartment you can fear all the things that haven’t happened yet, but surely will. You can fear you aren’t being a good enough wife, mother and grandmother. You can fear you aren’t a good enough Christian, that there is always more you could do for God and for people. You can look back on your life and fear it was mostly a waste.

I know where this fear comes from. When I was two years old, my father beat me black and blue because I would cry at night and not go to sleep. (He told me this himself). He sexually abused me until I was 10. My sister told me she wished she could kill me. She said she’d love to put a pillow over my face and smother me. This is how I learned to fear my family.

When I was very young, my sister told me the Japanese neighbors, who lived across the street, poisoned children with soup. She warned me never to go near their house. So, I learned to fear neighbors. In first grade, I had a teacher who would whip the boys with tree branches. We could hear their screams from the room beside us. So, I learned to fear school. When we visited my grandparents in Los Angeles, my sister told me not to walk down alleys because men would put a bucket over my head and drive nails through it. So, I learned to be afraid in large cities.

I feared God. I was raised in a fundamentalist church and there was a lot of talk about sin. It was pounded into us that any sin at all was horrible. I wanted to be a Christian, but I knew I could never, ever be that good. When I did come to Jesus at 19, whenever I sinned I expected God to kill me. I’m still a Christian and I know better now.

I was crippled by fear. I remember when I was 6 I had to walk a far bit to school. I would drag the toes of my shoes along sidewalk, wearing them out, because I didn’t want to go. I also dragged my shoes on the way home. There was a railroad track between the school and home. I loved watching the trains as they sped by. I loved looking at them when they were just sitting there. My desire was to jump on one that would take me far away. But to where? I didn’t know.

High school was a particular kind of fear. When I started grade 10, I didn’t know anyone at the school. I hid in a stall in the bathroom at lunchtime for three months. I finally met a nice girl and we were friends for a time. I made other friends, but the friendships never lasted more than six months. Even now, I don’t know why.

Dating was a nightmare. I was so afraid on dates I couldn’t speak. I had some really cool guys ask me out, but I was horribly boring. In order to enjoy my company, the guy would have had to be a non-stop talker. (My first husband. Lol)

I found out boys always wanted to touch you. I didn’t find it hard to say no. The first time a boy tried to take my bra off I said, “What are you doing?” I really didn’t know. I figured it out. My father hated me dating and called me a slut. I was a virgin. I dated a boy once and he told everyone I was easy and he screwed me. A lie. After that, I didn’t care too much about staying a virgin. I lost that status after I was date-raped. Not that I knew what it was. I had passed out from drinking and woke up by being thrown on the bed, my clothes taken off and then him inside me. To be honest, he was very good looking and I liked being wanted by him. There was blood on the bed, and he asked in horror, “Are you a virgin?” I told him I was. I think he was ashamed of what he did, but I don’t really know. Any time I saw him at school, he looked away.

Grade 11 I decided to run away from home and go to San Francisco because that’s where the hippie movement was located. My father caught me stealing money from his wallet in the middle of the night. I told my parents how unhappy I was. They decided to send me to Canada to stay with relatives. I was happy to get away and that is where I married my first husband. (The one who never stops talking. He is still like that, and it’s strange that even now when I see him, I feel a warmth for him. I’m afraid no one else likes him because they say he is narcissistic.)

Okay, I have explained why I have this fear inside me. I have been to therapy a few times and it helped me very much. I went to anxiety groups. I began to understand why I do what I do, but none of that took my fear away. I tried to get a university degree, and I did make it through 2 years with high grades, but my mental illness got in the way and I quit.

Most jobs I tried were over in one day because of my fear. My second husband is very understanding. Living on one wage most of our marriage has been close to impossible, but he never complains. I still apologize to him because I’ve felt guilty about how hard life has been for us. I did do some babysitting and I worked as a janitor for a year. This was to buy school clothes for our two daughters.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I guess I wanted to let people know why some people are afraid, why some people can’t work, even though they are intelligent and look normal. I wanted to let people know this kind of fear is a mental illness. I want Christians to know that even though a fearful person prays about it, sometimes the fear never leaves.

C.S. Lewis told a friend who had a mental illness to realize it is like losing a leg. God isn’t going to grow the leg back, but he will help you live without it. I can attest to that. God has given me the greatest comfort, joy and love than any person has given me. He is amazing. My biggest problem is sometimes forgetting to talk with him about my feelings and worries. I do it, but I want to do it every time I’m upset about anything and many times I forget.

Jesus said, “Don’t worry about tomorrow, about what you will eat, drink or wear. Each day has problems of its own.” He promised we don’t need to fear because he is with us. Paul wrote, “Have no anxiety about anything, but with petitions and prayers, with thanksgiving, make your requests to God and the peace that passes all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” I repeat these verses to myself and they always help.

I didn’t know that when you become a Christian, you would still have problems in your life that don’t go away quickly. In fact, you may have to pray about that problem until Jesus comes back or you die. I wish I had known that in the beginning of my walk with God, but I didn’t, so I keep marching on knowing God loves me just as I am.

 

The Outcast. Homelessness and Mental Illness.

 

I have a sister who lives at a campground. Some of the sites are for permanent residents and the rest are for campers. She lives in a motorhome. After living there for awhile, she found out a man lived on the property who did odd jobs for the owner of the camp and its residents.

She asked this man if he would clean off the roof and do other tasks for her. She got to know him and realized he wasn’t quite normal. She found out he used to be an executive at a large corporation, but his young wife had died of cancer and he had a nervous breakdown. He told her he was in a hospital for a few months and was better for a time. A few years later, he had a girlfriend who also died, in an accident I think.

After that, he was in a permanent depression and just couldn’t cope with life at all. He lost his job and was homeless for a long time. Somehow, he got a small camper and lived in that. He came to her campground and asked the owner if he could live there by doing odd jobs and he told him he could.

My sister knew him for at least five years but told me he was going downhill. He started going to a psychiatric hospital occasionally. Later, when she would ask him to work for her, he forgot or took a few weeks to do it. Eventually, he quit doing all work.

Around that time, they started talking about God. She bought him two Bibles, one a graphic novel type and another regular Bible. She spoke to him of what God had done for her and how she loved being a Christian.

He told her all the Christians he had met were unkind to him, especially two people at the park. They had promised to pay him a certain amount of money and then cut his pay in half after he was done. He said he had tried to go to churches, but the people there didn’t want him. He said he was surprised she was a Christian because she was nice to him.

A few months later, she found out the owner and manager had kicked him out because he wasn’t working enough and his site was messy. She doesn’t know where he went.

When I think of that man, I think of the word, “Outcast.” Then I think of Jesus, a friend of outcasts and who became one himself. I also think of mental illness and how misunderstood it is.

As I’ve written before, I have a mental illness and my sister told me most of the homeless people she met have had either a physical or mental illness. They are people no one knows what to do with. They are without a rudder in this cold world. People look down on them and ask, “Why aren’t they working? They look healthy enough to work!”

I’ll tell you why. They probably can’t concentrate, they may be terrified of people (like me), they are afraid to work because they know they will make mistakes and people will yell at them, and they can’t bear the thought of that. (me) Their memory isn’t good. They will forget what you told them to do, or misunderstand instructions. (me) They don’t have a car, bus fare, clothing. They are sometimes so nervous they cannot speak. (me)

If I didn’t have a husband to support me, I’d be homeless myself. Well, my daughters would take me in. I am blessed that way. My family understands my illness and loves me.

I’m writing this because I wish so much that the world would do something for these people. I know how complicated that is; although I did read about a city in Canada that built apartments for all the homeless and made it a law they couldn’t live on the streets. It has worked out wonderfully and is actually saving the city money. Maybe it isn’t as hard as we think. We have a terrific Premier in BC, where I live. He is doing a lot for the homeless. I admire him.

Well, I said what was burning in my heart. Here are some verses from the Bible about outcasts.

The blind man Jesus healed:

They answered and said to him, "You were born entirely in sins, and do you teach us?" And they cast him out. 

When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, He found the man and said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

 “Who is He, Sir?” he replied. “Tell me so that I may believe in Him.” “You have already seen Him,” Jesus answered. “He is the One speaking with you.” “Lord, I believe,” he said. And he worshiped Jesus.   John 9:34-38

A parable of Jesus:

So, they took him and killed him and cast him out of the vineyard.   Mark 12:8

God speaking to Israel:

If your outcasts are in the uttermost parts of heaven, from there the LORD your God will gather you, and from there he will take you.  Deut. 30:4

I will make the lame into a remnant, and the outcast into a strong nation. Then the LORD will rule over them in Mount Zion from that day and forever.  Micah 4:7

Behold, at that time I will deal with all your oppressors. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth.   Zeph. 3:19

Whereas you have been forsaken and hated, with no one passing through, I will make you majestic forever, a joy from age to age.   Isaiah 60:15

Those who hurt the poor:

What do you mean by crushing my people, by grinding the face of the poor?” declares the Lord GOD of hosts.   Isaiah 3:15

What sorrow awaits the unjust judges

and those who issue unfair laws.

They deprive the poor of justice

and deny the rights of the needy among my people.

They prey on widows

and take advantage of orphans.

What will you do when I punish you,

when I send disaster upon you from a distant land?

To whom will you turn for help?

Where will your treasures be safe?

Isaiah 10:1-3

 

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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.

 

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.

My Life with God in My 40's.

My grandsons and granddaughters. Taken around 9 years ago.

I must warn those who keep reading that this story is about sexual child abuse.

My forties were half wonderful, half crazy painful. When my daughters got married and left home, I fell into a depression. I had lived for my children and my life and  home felt empty. I went to a psychologist and he suggested I go to university and work towards a career. I liked that idea, so I did go and enjoyed it immensely. However, something happened that made it impossible to keep going and get a degree.

When I was 46, I went to stay with my father when my mother went to Florida to visit my sister. My father had been dizzy and falling, so I went over to make sure he would be okay. That night, alone with him in the house, he knocked on the bathroom door while I was in there getting ready for bed. All of a sudden, I became terrified. I thought he was going to rape me. I ran out and went in the bedroom I was to sleep in and tried to lock the door, but I couldn't. I went to bed very frightened of him. The next morning I went home as soon as I woke up.

I shook all this off and decided I was just imagining things. Then I started having dreams. Dreams of him chasing me, harming me, abusing me. I told my sisters what had happened. They told me secrets they had kept all their lives. My older sister said our father's brother had touched her sexually. My youngest sister said the same uncle had also molested her. I was shocked and horrified. I decided to go to my psychologist and talk with him about it.

He was skeptical at first, but after a few visits trying to sort things out, if it was my father or someone else, he concluded I had been molested by him. He wanted to use a therapy where they tap your hand while talking; it was supposed to bring the memories back clearly. I didn't want that. I felt if God had made me forget the details, then I didn't want to go around God and find out more than my mind could take.

Well, from then on I have had mental problems, breakdowns and dissociation, which is when you kind of stop being an adult and  you become the child again. It is kind of spooky. I don't realize it is happening when it happens, I just start crying like a little child or run around in a panic.

I would have to write a book to describe what all that is like, and I have no plans to do that. I went to a few more psychologists and was an outpatient one time when I was hearing things. I am much better now, my biggest problem is social phobia and not wanting to drive or leave the house. But since I'm 67, I've decided not to fight that and just stay home for the most part. I really enjoy my life at home.

God was with me through all of this. He gave me a few beautiful dreams where he was right beside me. In the first dream, he looked at me with sorrow for what I was going through. 

The second dream was amazing. I was in church and saw my father there. I said to him, "You can't hurt me anymore. God's angels are with me."  Then I turned and left the church. I was surrounded by many angels. We walked outside to a field and sat on the grass and sang a beautiful song to God. I looked up and saw a hill with three crosses on top. Suddenly, roses began growing and climbing up the middle cross until it was covered in pink roses. I stood up, and as I did I saw Jesus himself coming into view over the hill. I ran to him crying and flung myself into his arms. He was smiling and held me close.

The third dream was of Jesus and I riding beautiful, black horses. We were riding fast through a field. Jesus and I were laughing and enjoying the experience. All of a sudden, the horses grew beautiful, large, black wings and we rose into the sky and up to the stars. I knew we were going to heaven.

The wonderful part of my 40's was when my grandchildren came into the world. I feel the best gift God has given me personally is my children and grandchildren.

God has shown me through the years to quote Scripture when I get depressed or have nightmares. No matter how bad I feel in the morning, or how bad I feel about my mother's illness, I quote Scripture. I ask God for strength of mind and spirit. I thank him for being here with me and walking with me through life. My mind is transformed; I actually feel great peace and happiness. He is an amazing God. He is the strength of my life and my portion forever.

Thank you very much for your prayers for me. I woke up this morning and I felt better. The clouds had lifted by the power of God.

This morning, I woke from a dream. In the dream there was a large round table. There were about 10 people sitting around the table with playing cards in their hands. I sat down in an empty chair. My cards were face down in front of me. I could see the cards of the other players. Everyone had a 3 in their hand. I looked down at my cards and thought, "I need to have a 3 also so I will be like all the others." I picked up my cards and I did have a 3. I felt happy, then I woke up.

I would guess the dream represents how I feel around people, even family. I need to be like them to fit in. Everything I do should match up with other people so they will love me. I don't want to be different. I want to fit in. I want to please people, and if I don't, I feel devastated.

I've known this about myself, but I guess I need to face it and pray about it. It was frightening to make a mistake when I was young because my father could become very angry. He never believed me if I said I didn't know something was wrong. He would say, "Don't give me that. You know better." I didn't really. He always thought I was lying about things and when I was a teen he called me a slut. I had not had sex with any boy at the time, but after that I decided I didn't care anymore because he already thought I was having lots of sex. The only kind of sex I'd ever had was with him when I was younger.

Joyce Meyer says, "The only way out is through." She said that about her sexual abuse. She didn't want to deal with it, but God showed her she needed to. I've dealt with mine too, I think. But there are always going to be after-effects of our childhoods. No one gets completely away from that. It is a large part of who we are.

Thankfully, God tells us, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."


I am a new person compared to the person I was before I met Jesus. Giving my life to him was the best decision I ever made. He has made many parts of my life so beautiful. My most precious dream was to have children. He gave me two daughters and now 7 grandchildren. I feel most blessed, my dream came true and he multiplied it. One day I will live with God in heaven - my most precious dream now.

He never sleeps
He never slumbers
He never tires of hearing our prayers
When we are weak
He becomes stronger
So rest in his love
Cast all of your cares on him.


From "He Never Sleeps," by Don Moen.

Jack-in-the-Box.

My brain feels broken. I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve had so many weeks of coping well since my mom broke her hip. Mental illness is like a Jack-in-the-box. The music plays, I am coping well, I dance to the music, then, without warning, the evil clown pops up. The music stops and I’m afraid.

I thought the clown was gone.  I thought I had dealt with him and found the secret to happiness and coping well with life in a consistent manner.  I thought God and I had this at last.

The problem is my brain beats me up any time I make a mistake. As an example, this morning I poured myself some coffee and remembered the time I made some coffee for my daughter and it was terrible and she poured it down the sink.

This happens to me daily. Something happens and it reminds me of a mistake I have made. When I have made a lot of mistakes in a row, I start losing it. I listen to good music, but it doesn’t help as much as it usually does. I’m praying, yes. But prayer feels different. I’m too full of myself and not enough of God. I go from prayer to thinking sad thoughts. Sad thoughts move into despair. I shake them and they come back.

The one thought that helps me is that I have been through this before and worse. By God encouraging me, I have made it out of darkness into the light. I know this will happen again. I cling to this thought.

Meanwhile, I am cleaning the house, taking care of my mother and making dinners (my nemesis). I don’t share how shaky I feel, because there is no point. No one but God can help me and I know that. I don’t need to make everyone else feel bad.

One small thing that bothers me is not knowing if I can make it to the dentist next week. Will I be able to leave the house?  I’m getting more and more afraid of leaving the house unless someone comes with me. I feel like just giving up and canceling the appointment like I have done over the last year and a half.

It has been a hard 6 months. My mother fell, broke her hip and then all the trouble with the hospitals and rehab facility. Then my sweet nephew died. My husband is not happy lately about his life. Nothing I say helps him. I guess it is a miracle I am still coping – sort of. If you can call this coping.

Well, enough of that. I’ve been wanting to write about a beautiful verse on how God makes his footsteps a path for us to walk.

“Righteousness will go before Him and will make His footsteps into a way.”  Psalm 85:13

“Righteousness and justice are the foundation of Your throne; Lovingkindness and truth go before You.”  Psalm 89:14

The lyrics from the song, “Feel Your Love,” by Don Moen and Frank Edwards have helped me too.

It’s in your name that I found love.
I give you praise for all you’ve done.
You call me by my name, I wll trust in you.

I feel your love surround me.

Suicide - How Does God See It?

Fragile Emotion

Photo by: Don http://www.flickr.com/people/97224989@N00

My beloved nephew, Ian, killed himself a month ago. He was 45 years old. He had paranoid schizophrenia.

I remember reading some religions believe suicide is a sin. Even a sin God can't forgive. I don't believe that. I've been suicidal myself; I have a mental illness because of my abusive father. Elijah wanted to die, so did Jeremiah and Job. God didn't tell any of them they sinned in that wish.

Ian quit taking his medication, which a lot of people with schizophrenia do. He kept refusing to take it until he was having delusions every day. I won't go into detail about his illness, what I wanted to share about him was his journey to God.

About a year or more ago, Ian started getting interested in spiritual things. He wanted to find the "true" religion. He studied Buddhism, Islam and Christianity. He used to call me and we would talk about these religions. He asked me why I thought Christianity was the true religion and I told him. Then he started asking me about the different Christian religions. I told him of some of the different beliefs that were out there. He asked me about the church I grew up in, which is the Seventh-Day-Adventist Church.

I explained our beliefs to him. So, he went and visited some churches in his community in Washington, State. I asked which one he liked best, and he did say the Adventist church. He asked about why we worship on Saturday instead of Sunday, and I told him all the reasons.

When my mother broke her hip and was in the hospital, Ian came to see her and stayed with us. He came twice. We talked some more about God, and why I believed he was the true God. All the rest of the time he talked with me it was about his delusions of being followed and how he was putting us in danger just by visiting us. He thought the government was after him, but I never did understand why he thought that. He talked about conspiracies, but I don't know what kind. He thought he had special powers.

The only time he talked sanely was when he talked about God. The last day he was here, he said he had made up his mind and believed in God and Jesus and also would not work on Sabbath again. I was very happy for him. As he drove away for the last time, I said to God, "Oh Lord, what are you going to do for him?"

He killed himself a few days later. I think God stepped back and let it happen. Ian had turned to God, given himself to him and that was what God was waiting for. Ian will now have the peace he longed for when Jesus returns. We will see him and hug him again, and he will be all well. I'm so looking forward to that day. I'll see my brother, grandson, Ian, my grandmothers and who knows who else? And of course I will get to see Jesus and the face of my father God. Oh yes, I am excited about that day.

The Breaking of My Mind.

"No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it."   1 Cor. 10:13

When I was younger, I thought this verse meant God would never let anything happen to you that you couldn't handle. I was wrong. I kind of missed the word, "temptation."  I assumed somehow the verse included problems and trials.

The first time I had a mental breakdown, I thought of this verse and realized my interpretation was wrong. A lot of our interpretations of the Bible are wrong - not that anyone ever wants to admit that.

So, a few days ago, I could tell I was falling apart mentally once again. I felt weak, my head fuzzy, my stomach upset. I felt myself sort of leaving myself and becoming two. Yep. I needed help and I needed rest.

I called my counselor of old (2 years ago), sweet Barb, and made an appointment. She saw me the very next day. My husband went to the nursing home and told my mother because I couldn't come and visit for awhile. She was so kind and good about it. She is used to the place now and says she is happy. Thank you, God. Thank you dear Father.

It has been a sad and difficult year. My mother broke her hip, was in the hospital for a month, came home for a month, I injured myself caring for her, she went back in the hospital because I couldn't take care of her, the hospital was mad - said she wasn't sick, which wasn't true. She almost died twice in the hospital. They put her in rehabilitation while she was still weak and sick. She couldn't even keep her head up waiting for meals. She lay her head on the table, yet they said she wasn't sick. Fuck. that is what I have to say about that.

Now, she has finally gotten stronger and is eating normally. I've been to see her constantly until I had a cold and couldn't come for 2 weeks. Finally, the cold is gone. She is strong enough to take to dinner. Hallelujah! I take her out to lunch, out for dinner, her memory is getting better.

So NOW is when my brain says, "Okay, that's it. She is okay now and you can shut down and quit working."  At least, that is what I am guessing my brain is saying. I slept 12 hours last night. I'm like Elijah running from Jezebel. I need to sleep and eat and then sleep and eat again. And if that is okay for Elijah, it's okay for me.

What can I say about the Lord now? That he is wonderful, he is marvelous, he is a great friend, comforter, father, brother, king and God. He is here, right beside me like always, holding my hand and giving me peace and joy, even though I am sick. It has taken me a long time to see God in the hard times, but I'm finally doing it. He is smiling with me right now, as I write this. He sent a message to me through my daughter. He said, "Your mother will be saved." 

I had been worrying about that because of how strange she had been acting. Everyone said it was dementia, but I wasn't sure. Now, I'm sure. God has graciously told me Mom is fine. She is sealed by the Holy Spirit. I will live with her in heaven. Thank you, Father.

Mental Illness and Sex.

I have been wondering if I should write about this subject and have decided I will in the hope it will help someone going through something similar. But if you don't want to hear about my sex problems, you better stop reading.

I was sexually used by my father, starting when I was very young. He also abused me physically a few times to keep me in line. I was terrified of him.

I'm 66 now, and still have trouble with sex. Things are definitely better, but I'm still working things out. God has shown me something I thought I would share.

Every Friday, even though I'd had a great week, I began feeling sad. I didn't know why until I prayed and paid attention to myself. It is because the weekend is coming and I know my husband and I will have sex at some point. After we do have sex, my depression lifts. I don't have to worry about it for another week.

The thoughts I used to have during sex were not pretty - I will spare you the details. But I couldn't enjoy the sex any other way, it seemed. I wanted to make my husband happy, and I was; but God was not happy because I was hurting myself.

God has been telling me a long time to quit thinking violent thoughts when I have sex. I tried a few times, but then I would just feel numb. Then one night after sex, I had this sudden urge to scream and keep screaming forever. The urge went away, but when I talked with God he said, "I can't keep you sane, as you keep asking me to do, if you continue thinking these thoughts." I pondered that for a few minutes and said, "I'll try." Then I said, "No, I promise I will never do it again."

At that, I felt a powerful presence come over me. I had woken with a headache and it went away immediately. My body had been aching; I felt a softness all over me and the aches were gone. I knew it was the overshadowing of God's presence. I felt so good and happy. I felt so thankful.

That was two weeks ago and sex with my husband has been great. We tried some new things to help me relax and of course, he is so patient with me and always has been. It is kind of embarrassing to talk with God about all this, but after all, he invented sex! It ain't my fault! I just want to learn how to live with it and enjoy it and He is helping me.

God always helps me with everything if I come to him about it. I wish I could convey how wonderful it is to have God to go to. People seem to be afraid to give control of their lives over to him. If they only knew! If they only knew what a great person he is! If they only knew how he gives his best to us.

I Feel Like A Blob of Slime.

The prayer that is prayed most often in the Bible is, "Lord, have mercy on me."

Someone said God cannot pass by one who says this prayer; not that I think he would bypass any sincere prayer.

Today, I feel like shouting, as Jesus walks by, "Lord, have mercy on me!"

It's been a tough day. I took my mom to the hospital for some scans. We had to take a taxi there and back. My poor mom is weak and can barely walk. She got so tired. She had to drink some stuff that was yucky and felt sick afterwards.

I have social phobia. I'm really frightened of being with people and having to interact with them. So, there are the cab drivers, nurses and patients. I felt nauseated before we even left.  By the time we were done with the hospital and walked in the door, we were both a mess; me, mentally; my mom, physically. We grabbed a bite and went to bed.

I woke at 1:00 pm feeling depressed and hating my life again. But I know how to combat those thoughts by praising and thanking God and looking at the good things. I was okay then. So, I opened my email and there was a nasty letter from someone I don't even know. I felt sick again, physically and mentally.

I've said to my husband, "I don't even know these people. Why do I get sick from what they say about me?"  Oh well, I've marked that site as spam now. I guess all the fear comes from the horrible fear I had of my father as a child. Anger towards me turns me into a puddle of slime on the floor.

And now when I feel afraid, I get these enormous asthma coughing spells. Just writing about this has started me coughing. I talked with my mom about it and started coughing. My sprays hardly work. Obituary: Died from a nasty e-mail. Coughed to death.

That is how my dear brother died. Asthma. Now it is stalking me. I think, "If you had more faith, you idiot, you wouldn't have all this fear and asthma." I'm sure that is true, which gets me coughing even more. Lol

Aren't you glad I shared?

I better go before I pass out. Anyway, I would appreciate some prayers for me.
I'm sure I'll be better tomorrow. May God bless all  who come and visit. In spite of my problems, I know God loves and cares for me just as I am.