I Didn't Know

I recently attended a writers conference. I have wanted to go in previous years, but always found a reason (ie: excuse) why "now" wasn't a good time. I figured if I'm going to do it, do it well. I signed up for the extra night and a pre-conference session. The extra night was to make sure I was there on time and in the right frame of mind to focus on one thing. Life has not been about only one thing at a time, or seemingly about me, for quite awhile. 

My anxiety struck up as I got ready to leave that day. I'm almost ready to give her a name as she seems like a nit-picky, perfectionistic version of me I'm trying to get away from. "Why are you going to this BY YOURSELF? YOU don't like to go places where you don't know at LEAST one other person! Do you know how much other life stuff you have going on right now? WHY?" 

Why indeed. I slammed the door a bit harder than intended. Set my map app. Turned the radio louder to drown her out and drove away.

I was not alone for long. I found out that weekend was where I was supposed to be for that weekend. I don't think of myself as a writer. I think of myself as a person who likes to write now that I don't "have to". Our name tags listed our name as well as what we had entered on our registration. Mine said "devotionals/blogger". I made the mistake a few times of saying I "just" have a blog. I was reminded and encouraged that nothing is "just". Point taken. Learn to own it. "I am a writer" Take that, anxiety!

I sat with different people over the few days. Some had come alone. Some had come with friends. Many it was first-time attendance. Some had attended numerous years. I sat with an older couple. The wife referred to her husband as her boyfriend. So cute!. They shared they had recently celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary with their family. I didn't tell him that he reminded me of my dad. That would have made me cry. I sat with men and women younger and older than me. I listened as they shared why they were attending and some of their stories they were willing to share. I was able to encourage some. Many encouraged me a lot. 

I didn't realize until a few meals in that some of the people sitting at our tables were "in the industry" of writing: editors, publishers, authors, agents, presenters of the sessions. I was a bit intimidated when I made that little discovery. Why was I surprised though? They have to eat too! Anxiety snuck up again as I tried to replay conversations in my mind where I might have said something I shouldn't have to someone I shouldn't have. 

I learned a lot. The weekend ended. I came home. The feeling to write has nagged me. I made an online Facebook support group because I don't have time right now to meet in person. I "friended" some of the attendees. They "friended" me. Writing is really kind of lonely overall. Sharing what is in my head and heart is kind of overwhelming overall. 

How many times have I let what or who I didn't know get in my way? Is what we have written on our name tag as a job or how we would describe ourselves really what matters? It was a Christian writers conference. Would/Do people know that about me without seeing it on a name tag? 

I write this to remind me...and you....don't let what you don't know stop you. I was reminded of the verse: 

Hebrews 13:2 Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.

and then I found verse 6: 

So we say with confidence,“The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?”

To those who shared hospitality with me: thank you for being an angel when I needed one. My new name tag: mere mortal/writer

The Daily Mental Walk of Shame

I wrote this for a short story contest. I had been kicking the idea around in my head. Not necessarily a short story format, but it gave me a deadline. Honestly? I need deadlines. I can procrastinate something fierce without one....even with deadlines too often I wait until the last minute....or close to it.

So, I didn't win. However, in the long run, I'm ok with that. If I had, I couldn't use it for a year. I'm hoping it will help others to read it as much as it helped me to write it. It is a bit more non-fiction than I would probably admit most days.

The Daily Mental Walk of Shame

My name is Cera. Cera Bellum. My age doesn't really matter. Overall, it doesn't. By most people's standards, I am pretty smart. At least I am usually. On the days when the brain fog is not quite so foggy, I can seem quite intelligent. 

Every day starts out pretty much the same. I wake up. Usually much later than I planned on, and after hitting snooze at least one time more than I should. Should. It's like could and would. I really don't like those words. They make me feel guilty. It's early yet. Too early for guilt. Moving on. 

It has been awhile since I jumped right out of bed ready to take on the world in the Land of Overwhelm.

When I make it out of bed, sometimes even before I'm out of bed, I mentally climb a ladder. The ladder leads to the platform that will begin the daily walk across to the other platform known as the end of the day. The other platform that signifies the end of one day blurring into the next. The platform that leads back to a bed and insomnia's version of sleep. 

Sometime during that walk there will be the dip into the prescription bottle that makes the tightrope connecting the platforms not quite as narrow. More like a bridge. My time has become measured by the filling of the med boxes from the bottles: 2 fills of 2 boxes and it is time for more refills and another month has passed. I didn't even always need meds. Now? Meds help. Most days. Most. Days. I also found out it is much easier to talk to a doctor about other family member's prescriptions than my own.

Some days, the better days, the walk can start on an almost wider  bridge. However, sometimes the space narrows to a tightrope as the day goes on. Then the real balancing act begins.

Some days the ladder leads to a roller coaster with ups and downs and loopy loops. The goal is to not have so many downs. I don't like roller coasters, especially the big drop at the beginning to allow for picking up the speed.

A wide walkway is better as I do not walk alone. I have "friends" traveling along with me. I would not have always called them friends. Sometimes I still don't. I don't know what else to call them either. Maybe just by their names. 

Dee Pression  and Ann Xiety

Dee and Ann each hang on to a hand as I make the daily crossing. Some days are easier than others.

On a not so easy day, Dee tries to whisper slowly droning in my ear even before we are fully awake. "You don't really feel like getting out of bed today do you?" "Shower? Why? Too much work!"  “These PJs are comfy! Why get dressed?”

Ann says in a rushed, panicked voice, “There will be people out there! They will have expectations and you might have to answer the phone, Cera! You hate answering the phone. You would rather text. Here. Don't forget your smartphone, dummy. Oh and by the way there's a new game app you should download so you can avoid your fear of roller coasters. Hey, look a cat video!”

Along the daily walk, sometimes we meet others that also know Dee and Ann. We covertly nod as we pass, but we do not talk. Besides not everyone can see Dee and Ann like they would a broken leg or glasses. They just think we do not try hard enough or we are lazy. How hard is it to get out of bed and shower?!?! 

We see cutesy or scary ads and social media posts that state “reach out for help”. “You are not alone.” “Mental illness can become mental wellness.”

Dee and Ann whisper loudly past those with taunts of “You don't really want us to leave do you? People would see the real you! What if they don't like you? You know not everybody even believes in us. Do you see what happens to some of those celebrity people when it is a mental illness and not physical? That could happen to you.”

So, I hold it in and somewhat together another day. Not reaching out. Feeling alone. Dealing with mental issues people do not always acknowledge. Mental issues that I don't always acknowledge.

Dee, Ann and I near the platform at the other end of the tightrope as another day closes.

There I introduce Dee and Ann to some new friends waiting there for us: Hope and Faith. Maybe those meds, ads and social media posts do work.

Tomorrow's walk.....and all those to come will be better. At least mostly, right?

Cutting....yesterday, today and tomorrow

My heart hurts. Sometimes the more you know, the more you don't want to know. I have heard more and more lately about "cutting". I don't know a lot about it. I have more to find out. However, what I do know makes me sad....and mad....and.....I'm at a loss for words to describe it.

The little that I do understand of the "why" is because when someone cuts, the emotional pain is replaced by physical pain....and for awhile....the emotional pain goes away....or is felt less.

Maybe this was going on when I was in school, but if it did, I don't remember anyone really talking about it. Maybe we just had different ways of dealing with it. I know we had our share of emotional pain too. It doesn't matter if it was more or less or different. Sometimes I wonder if all the technology and news has made cutting more in our minds, which then leads to more cutting and round and round we go.....

It seems that cutting is a distraction. Maybe finding other distractions or different ways to cope is the answer or at least part of it. Is there an answer?

I guess the main point of this is if you are a parent, please be aware of the issue and talk to your kids. If there are long sleeves always, please find a way to look. Know that arms are not the only place where cutting happens. Maybe start by asking if they know anyone else that cuts or if it has been brought up at school. You might worry that asking will put the idea in their head. More than likely cutting....or something similar is already there....you're just letting them know it's OK to talk about.

If you have cut or are actively cutting, PLEASE find someone to talk to. It doesn't even have to be a "professional". Find somebody you can trust. Be open. You might help them deal with some of their own stuff too.

We can all benefit from being more transparent. We all have stuff we deal with. We all have different ways of dealing with it. Sometimes we hurt others. Sometimes we hurt ourselves. Sometimes we deal with it by NOT dealing with it. Hurting....hurts!

Cutting leaves external scars. Constant reminders of the pain we've dealt with. IF we can find another way to deal with pain, maybe we can move through it and past it and leave it in yesterday. Choose today to deal with it. Know that your tomorrows can be better.

The Pit and Hope: The Rock

I have had these thoughts rattling around in my head for awhile now. Trying to decide the best way to write them...and not step on toes....or sound preachy. However, sometimes I need preachy...and my toes stepped on to wake me up....so do with the following what you will (praying that you find some answers to whatever you may going through too!):

Now that I know more about anxiety and depression, I have little doubt that I have dealt with both for most of my life. Well, at least from 7th grade on for sure that I remember. Over the years, I have found help with counseling and medication. Over the years, I have struggled because, as a Christian, I SHOULD be able to beat this with God's help, right? Ahhhh, the infamous SHOULD. grrrrr.

I believe depression is probably different for each person. For me, on the really bad days...when I feel like I don't even want to get out of bed....or even after sleeping LOTS, I do not feel rested. I would probably describe the feeling as being in a pit. It's dark, dank, DEPRESSING! The worst thing is that it FEELS like there is no way out without digging deeper. It doesn't feel like falling. Just stuck. In emotional muck and mire. At the bottom. Trapped with thoughts of everything I've ever done wrong. trapped on the hamster wheel of perfectionism or wasted time or, or, or.

There have been references to pits in the Bible. Some physical (Joseph: Genesis 37 ). Some mental: Lamentations 3:55-57 I called on your name, Lord, from the depths of the pit. You heard my plea: “Do not close your ears to my cry for relief.” You came near when I called you, and you said, “Do not fear.”

A couple of things I do know...and on a good day, remember: The pit has a bottom so I don't continue to dig deeper. There is a firm rock foundation. I am not in the pit alone. I have family and friends that support me and help me feel better about myself and my circumstances.

In the meantime, I will be grateful for the pit-less days. I will be thankful for hope on the rock of God where I can stand and gaze over, but not fall in. 

Psalm40:2 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.

 Lamentations 3:19-26 I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.

Separation Anxiety

Romans 8:³⁵ (NLT) Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death?  

 
<sup>I am not writing this to list off all our troubles and calamities.  In the whole scheme of life and all that COULD happen, this week's issues are minor speed bumps.  Placed in the way to slow us down.  To pay more attention?  To distract us from where we need to get to? I'm not quite sure at this point.  I am writing this so that in a few weeks when we have made it through this, I will be reminded (yet again) of where my real help comes from. 

So, in no particular order: broken toe (seems like no big deal until you realize how much weight is placed on this toe and the balancing it assists with); unexpected job change; rentals, renters and ongoing financial stuff; a broken down van - tow truck and the unexpected time it took up; school/kid issues...and the list could probably go on, but these are the biggies.

I was doing pretty well (or so I thought) until said van incident made me slow down (as if the toe wasn't enough, H.E.L.L.O!) and realize my anxiety has been rising.  I have let other stuff get in the way of taking time to read the Bible and pray and praise and worship....and, and, and. I have separated myself from my main source of help in times of trouble and distress!

When those troubles come, I have a choice to make.  I can move closer to....or further from....God.   

Psalm 107:6 (NLT)</sup> “Lord, help!” they cried in their trouble, and he rescued them from their distress. (4 times in Psalm 107)

Rescue can come in all forms.  The bedspread I had in the van to take to a commercial laundry kept me warm while I waited for the tow truck.  Time to sing praise songs as I waited.  The cane my son had bought as a joke quite awhile ago has been handy for keeping balance through the snow and ice. 

Psalm 107:⁴³ (NLT) Those who are wise will take all this to heart; they will see in our history the faithful love of the Lord.

God's love is faithful. I'm the one who moves further away and separation anxiety kicks in.  Sometimes those speed bumps help us get turned around to where we need to be.  Victory is ours.  Claim it. Own it. Feel the love. Kick anxiety to the curb. 

^{Romans 8:37 (NLT)} No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.