So I mentioned a couple of days ago that I'd been challenged to come up with one word for 2016 that will become the theme of my year. There were a couple of words that floated around and felt kind of right, but there was one definite, completely right, no arguments about it, word for 2016.
The first word that originally came to mind was "restore". Joel 2:25 says
"I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten..." I'd be lying if I said I have gotten exactly what I dreamed of when I was a child over the last 15 years of my life. I never imagined any of the things I've been through. Heck, I wanted to be married by age 23 and I was going to be a nurse, like a really successful one or a genetics counsellor. I was going to live abroad. That obviously hasn't happened. I lost so many years to the locusts in my life (mainly mental illness, but there's a couple of other things in there too) and I believe in this Scripture. God will restore those years and it feels like this coming year things will start to shift in to place; but it isn't the main focus. So that was that. "Restore" is not the word.
There were a couple of others "trust", "healing", "bold" but as "restore" they didn't quite fit exactly right.
The word that stuck, time and again, that has been floating around in the past couple of months but I haven't grasped for myself yet is "brave". In our first week we had to think of a word to describe ourselves that began with the same letter as our name. Brave kept coming back. I wrote about it a little here. I look back on my life and so many people tell me I'm brave, I've fought so much and I'm still fighting, still standing and yet it isn't a word I would use to ever describe myself. I don't put myself out there, I prefer to hide in a corner and sulk than speak up for what I believe in for fear of it coming across wrong. 2016 feels like the year I need to claim that for myself. I am brave. I can type it, but can I truly say it out loud and believe it? And then the following on from that- can I be brave for God? Can I step out of my comfort zone, and do a new thing? Do something I am passionate about, that might seem a little out there to some. I have no idea what that might be but unless I am brave, take chances, embrace opportunities how will I find out? Now that this past year I have spent learning that I am safe in God, I needn't be afraid to take risks.
Shamefully I've never read the Chronicles of Narnia, despite owning them for many, many years. And today, as I was reading Prince Caspian, this interaction between Aslan and Susan hit me (So much so I underlined it! I never underline in books).
"You have listened to your fears, child," said Aslan. "Come, let me breathe on you. Are you brave again?" And it resonated. Am I brave again? Right now, I don't feel it. I'm letting the hate of New Year win, but at the end of the year, will I be able to answer this question differently? I long to be able to hand my worries and fears over to God and that be it; not cling to a teeny bit that holds me back. I can only do that by being brave. I trust Him. I know he is safe. So this year I will not only aim to be brave for God but be brave in my relationship with God. It is only to let things go. At least once a week someone retweets "let go and let God". That's part of my being brave. He will be with
And then in standard New Year fashion...I alluded the other day to the fact I have succumbed to the necessary resolutions for the new year. For me they aren't about self improvement, they're about embracing the life God has given me- spending more time with friends, rediscovering who I really am, and most importantly getting closer to God.
*I'm only going to use Facebook on the work computer (this may sound ridiculous but I need to use FB for my job. If I didn't, I'd delete it completely and be done with it. I don't need to spend hours scrolling staring at baby photos and engagement announcements which leave me longing for a "better life" when I have so many people around me that I need to invest in)
*I will aim to not use my phone between the hours of 6pm and 7am (Once again I must invest in other people)
*I am going to read 12 new books (they can be any genre, and I can read them all over the summer if that's how it works out. I love reading, and I read many more than 12 books in a year, but they're all comfortable old favourites. I need to break that habit)
*I will go for at least 2x30 minute walks each week (it will give me time alone with God, time to calm my thoughts, and give me a little bit of physical exercise. It can also be taken in 4x15 minute walks)
*I will continue to make sure I leave the town in which I'm living at least once every 6 weeks (Ideally I'd leave the county but time/money hasn't allowed for that. I just need time away to help me appreciate what I have)
*I will continue to designate one day a week in which I'm allowed to say no to people's plans and do what I want (It preserves my sanity more than people realise)
*I will continue to have daily quiet time (even on the worst days if I write nothing more than the verses I have read, I will not break this habit)
*I will be brave and take risks (God is right there with me. I need to step out in faith or I'll get nowhere)
But now thus says the Lord,
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
Isaiah 43: 1-2
Thursday 31 December 2015
Wednesday 30 December 2015
New Year, New Me.
We all know how it works. The time changes from 23:59 to 00:00. The year increases one number. And somehow a switch is flicked and suddenly we are a brand new version of ourselves. Everything resets and we have a brand new chance to be the very best person we can be. Whatever happened the previous year is behind us and forgotten. No-one ever references our mistakes and failures ever again.
Oh, that isn't how it works? Darn it. There was me thinking I've been doing something wrong every single year.
We set ourselves goals; resolve to change ourselves in some way. We strive for the latest idea of perfection which no doubt, as the year goes on, will change. Currently it's all about being skinny without being too skinny and eating only plant based food or is it being an ethical vegan?! Correct me if I'm wrong, I'm not really down with the latest cool things, and you definitely can't ever beat a three cheese toastie on thick white bread. MMMM melted cheese.
Anyway...
Somehow the increase of a single digit on the year means we must improve ourselves exponentially. It's like starting that diet "on Monday" or joining the gym at the start of the month but on a massive scale. A new year means we must try and change everything all at once, and to me that just seems to be a recipe for disaster. And yet still I give in to the pressure every year and make these resolutions, that by February I've lost momentum with and by December can't for the life of me remember what they were!
My 2015 started in a suitably miserable way. Home alone and watching New Year's Eve. There was probably some tears and a bit of self harm chucked in there too. My likely resolution was "don't see the end of 2015". But look, on the 30th December 2015, here I am. Alive and kicking. It would be an understatement to say that a lot changes in 12 months. A lot changes every 12 months between my birthdays too, but I don't sit there the night before my birthday making a list of things I want to change by the time I get to my next birthday. I could pick any random day and say by this time next year I want this to be different, but I don't. So why do we do it for a new year?
I see a lot of things on social media these days about people who struggle with the concept of a new year and all the improvements they must make. It really is simply another day. It's taken me YEARS to learn that. I find this time of year difficult. It's when the "you don't belong in next year" thoughts shout loudest. But if that were the case, why once I made it to 2013, to 2014, to 2015 was I allowed to live in the months following January but not that first month? It makes no sense. The month rolls over, the date changes, but this happens every 28-31 days. This December 31st-1st January I am trying to make a conscious effort to not do anything "special" Yes I will hang out with friends, but I will come home when I'm tired. Yes, I will set myself a list of goals for the year but I'm not committed to them. I'd love to join a gym and lose xkg by March and give up x, y and z but what's the point?
God made me as I am, and the only improvements I should be making should be ones drawing me closer to Christ. I don't need to change my body, I don't need to "think more happy thoughts" and no matter how many professionals tell me exercise will help my mood I know for a fact it doesn't and it achieves nothing but actually exacerbating my depression (fun fact about me right there ;)) so why do I need to force myself to go to the gym at least 3 times a week? Friday is just the start of another month. Instead of trying to change myself, I'm going to work harder on making sure I am truly thankful for all that I already have. I'm going to let God use me for good things. I'm going to be brave (there'll be a post about that on Friday!). I cannot change myself, by myself. I can do it only with God.
You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.
Ephesians 4:22-24
Oh, that isn't how it works? Darn it. There was me thinking I've been doing something wrong every single year.
We set ourselves goals; resolve to change ourselves in some way. We strive for the latest idea of perfection which no doubt, as the year goes on, will change. Currently it's all about being skinny without being too skinny and eating only plant based food or is it being an ethical vegan?! Correct me if I'm wrong, I'm not really down with the latest cool things, and you definitely can't ever beat a three cheese toastie on thick white bread. MMMM melted cheese.
Anyway...
Somehow the increase of a single digit on the year means we must improve ourselves exponentially. It's like starting that diet "on Monday" or joining the gym at the start of the month but on a massive scale. A new year means we must try and change everything all at once, and to me that just seems to be a recipe for disaster. And yet still I give in to the pressure every year and make these resolutions, that by February I've lost momentum with and by December can't for the life of me remember what they were!
My 2015 started in a suitably miserable way. Home alone and watching New Year's Eve. There was probably some tears and a bit of self harm chucked in there too. My likely resolution was "don't see the end of 2015". But look, on the 30th December 2015, here I am. Alive and kicking. It would be an understatement to say that a lot changes in 12 months. A lot changes every 12 months between my birthdays too, but I don't sit there the night before my birthday making a list of things I want to change by the time I get to my next birthday. I could pick any random day and say by this time next year I want this to be different, but I don't. So why do we do it for a new year?
I see a lot of things on social media these days about people who struggle with the concept of a new year and all the improvements they must make. It really is simply another day. It's taken me YEARS to learn that. I find this time of year difficult. It's when the "you don't belong in next year" thoughts shout loudest. But if that were the case, why once I made it to 2013, to 2014, to 2015 was I allowed to live in the months following January but not that first month? It makes no sense. The month rolls over, the date changes, but this happens every 28-31 days. This December 31st-1st January I am trying to make a conscious effort to not do anything "special" Yes I will hang out with friends, but I will come home when I'm tired. Yes, I will set myself a list of goals for the year but I'm not committed to them. I'd love to join a gym and lose xkg by March and give up x, y and z but what's the point?
God made me as I am, and the only improvements I should be making should be ones drawing me closer to Christ. I don't need to change my body, I don't need to "think more happy thoughts" and no matter how many professionals tell me exercise will help my mood I know for a fact it doesn't and it achieves nothing but actually exacerbating my depression (fun fact about me right there ;)) so why do I need to force myself to go to the gym at least 3 times a week? Friday is just the start of another month. Instead of trying to change myself, I'm going to work harder on making sure I am truly thankful for all that I already have. I'm going to let God use me for good things. I'm going to be brave (there'll be a post about that on Friday!). I cannot change myself, by myself. I can do it only with God.
You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.
Ephesians 4:22-24
Tuesday 29 December 2015
One Word 365 (2015)
In small group the other week, my small group leader mentioned about One Word 365 (http://oneword365.com/) and challenged the two of us in small group to do it for the coming year. She was telling us about her words for the past couple of years, what they've ended up meaning, what she's learnt. And as she spoke, I realised that I knew my word for the past 12 months.
Safe.
My word for 2015 was safe and I didn't even know it. But it makes complete sense. This year has been a massive lesson in learning to trust God. I've been through so many things which would make others give up and yet here I am still. God has kept me safe in so many ways. I haven't self harmed since February, For the whole of 2015 I haven't taken an overdose. Physically I've been safe. Financially, when I've had no income, when I've been homeless, when I've felt at rock bottom God has provided. I've been safe in all of those times. I've had amazing friends put in my path, even when I thought I was losing them because life changed; they've remained. These are safe, stable friendships like I've never had before. With my history being full of people I thought were safe, who then proved otherwise; or those of who I was always wary; and the forever changing list of safe people I could talk to, I'm amazed these people have genuinely stuck around. They consistently find themselves on my safe list of people in a crisis and they even stick around in the good times too! I don't need to be broken to be loved. I feel safe with them wherever we are. I walk in to a room with them and I know I'm home. Home is a safe place. For me, home doesn't quite fit the box that people would like it to, but I know where I feel safe, and for me, when I feel safe, I'm home.
Back in spring, I went on an Encounter course at church. It's a mix between therapy and theology and was just wonderful. In the very first week we talked about characteristics of God and the one that came immediately to mind was safe. I'd never considered this characteristic of God before and I wasn't quite sure where that thought would lead me. I realise it's brought me here. I am safe, because God is safe. And I needed to learn that He will keep me safe no matter what. I've begun to accept I am safe and therefore I'm ready to take risks. Knowing that I have a safety net in God. He will catch me, break the fall, pick me back up. I'm safe and I trust Him. Let's see where 2016 takes me.
In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, will keep me safe.
Psalm 4:8 (NLT)
Safe.
My word for 2015 was safe and I didn't even know it. But it makes complete sense. This year has been a massive lesson in learning to trust God. I've been through so many things which would make others give up and yet here I am still. God has kept me safe in so many ways. I haven't self harmed since February, For the whole of 2015 I haven't taken an overdose. Physically I've been safe. Financially, when I've had no income, when I've been homeless, when I've felt at rock bottom God has provided. I've been safe in all of those times. I've had amazing friends put in my path, even when I thought I was losing them because life changed; they've remained. These are safe, stable friendships like I've never had before. With my history being full of people I thought were safe, who then proved otherwise; or those of who I was always wary; and the forever changing list of safe people I could talk to, I'm amazed these people have genuinely stuck around. They consistently find themselves on my safe list of people in a crisis and they even stick around in the good times too! I don't need to be broken to be loved. I feel safe with them wherever we are. I walk in to a room with them and I know I'm home. Home is a safe place. For me, home doesn't quite fit the box that people would like it to, but I know where I feel safe, and for me, when I feel safe, I'm home.
Back in spring, I went on an Encounter course at church. It's a mix between therapy and theology and was just wonderful. In the very first week we talked about characteristics of God and the one that came immediately to mind was safe. I'd never considered this characteristic of God before and I wasn't quite sure where that thought would lead me. I realise it's brought me here. I am safe, because God is safe. And I needed to learn that He will keep me safe no matter what. I've begun to accept I am safe and therefore I'm ready to take risks. Knowing that I have a safety net in God. He will catch me, break the fall, pick me back up. I'm safe and I trust Him. Let's see where 2016 takes me.
In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, will keep me safe.
Psalm 4:8 (NLT)
Saturday 26 December 2015
Christmas
I feel I need to blog about Christmas, to remind me really what it is all about.
Christmas is not about:
*how many times my mother can comment on my weight/eating habits
*how many "joke" arguments my parents have
*how many presents I got
*how many Christmases in a row Santa has not bought me slippers despite me taking Santa to a shop each year, pointing out the pair I want and saying "buy these now please so we don't have a repeat of last year"...and it still happening. I was so confidentmum Santa had bought me slippers this year that I even bought my old ones so they could be replaced. You'd think I'd have learnt after 5 years...
*my grandparents believing they'll ruin Christmas if mum has to pick them up
*lamenting that it's been x amount of Christmases without *family member* (8 without my uncle and cousin now)
*how quickly I can get away from the dinner table to retreat back in to my own space
*how quickly I can get back home to Oxford
Christmas is about:
*Jesus and the amazing gift that God gave to the world
*reconnecting with family
*using the phrase "calories don't count at Christmas" as much as is possible.
*Christmas socks and Christmas pants and new pyjamas
*welling up at the Queen's Speech because it is exactly what you need to hear
*the Light of the World winning against the darkness
I know so many people who struggle with Christmas for many reasons. There's one particular friend this year who is in my thoughts almost constantly. Something really significant happens and suddenly Christmas is changed forever. In my family, this year has been relatively low drama. No-one died, no-one was in hospital, there were no screaming matches, and no arguments over whether phones/laptops/tv are allowed to be used on Christmas Day.
Christmas for me is not easy. As an only child, there's no special extended family gathering. My grandparents don't even come over any more (I'm pretty sure if I didn't venture to Kent, my grandparents wouldn't even acknowledge Christmas exists). So Christmas Day, except for the presents, is like any other time my parents and I get together. Mum and dad bicker, mum comments on/criticises my life in some way, dad just sits silently or hides on the computer and I end up crying myself to sleep in the early hours of the morning because why can't my family be normal?
I tell people I hate Christmas. That's not entirely true. I hate the fake festivities that Christmas is expected to be. I love that Jesus came in to the world, I love that no matter how many times I screw up, I'm still forgiven because my sin was taken when Jesus died on the cross, I love that God loves me (even when I can't quite understand why!). I just hate the hype and the family expectation and the "everyone look at what a wonderful Christmas we're having" thing, especially on social media. In the build up to Christmas I cannot cope with the discussion over "what does your family do for Christmas?" "oh I've got this extended family and that extended family and even though a few years ago this happened, we still love having them at Christmas time" GREAT but it doesn't work for everyone. And apparently it's not limited to Christmas with my parents, but also this year we had Christmas as an intern house. I cried my way through the whole entire day because it's overwhelming. Christmas has never been a big family thing, it hasn't involved lots of games, and I definitely am not used to "protected family time but we can bend the rules because it's x" Maybe when I have a family of my own it'll be different. We'll make new traditions, we'll actually go to church on Christmas Day, and midnight communion the night before, and it'll be a day free of arguments no matter what happens. That's my hope for the future. Right now I have to suck it up and admit Christmas sucks, that being poorly is actually a really good way to survive it because I can "need a lie down" when I can't face anything more, and just remember that it isn't about family but about God. There is hope, because Jesus is light. Jesus brings life where there appears to be none. Right now is hard, but the future will be worth it. To look back and see where God has brought me, through all this rubbish in the middle.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned
Isaiah 9:2 (ESV)
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
John 1:5 (ESV)
Christmas is not about:
*how many times my mother can comment on my weight/eating habits
*how many "joke" arguments my parents have
*how many presents I got
*how many Christmases in a row Santa has not bought me slippers despite me taking Santa to a shop each year, pointing out the pair I want and saying "buy these now please so we don't have a repeat of last year"...and it still happening. I was so confident
*my grandparents believing they'll ruin Christmas if mum has to pick them up
*lamenting that it's been x amount of Christmases without *family member* (8 without my uncle and cousin now)
*how quickly I can get away from the dinner table to retreat back in to my own space
*how quickly I can get back home to Oxford
Christmas is about:
*Jesus and the amazing gift that God gave to the world
*reconnecting with family
*using the phrase "calories don't count at Christmas" as much as is possible.
*Christmas socks and Christmas pants and new pyjamas
*welling up at the Queen's Speech because it is exactly what you need to hear
*the Light of the World winning against the darkness
I know so many people who struggle with Christmas for many reasons. There's one particular friend this year who is in my thoughts almost constantly. Something really significant happens and suddenly Christmas is changed forever. In my family, this year has been relatively low drama. No-one died, no-one was in hospital, there were no screaming matches, and no arguments over whether phones/laptops/tv are allowed to be used on Christmas Day.
Christmas for me is not easy. As an only child, there's no special extended family gathering. My grandparents don't even come over any more (I'm pretty sure if I didn't venture to Kent, my grandparents wouldn't even acknowledge Christmas exists). So Christmas Day, except for the presents, is like any other time my parents and I get together. Mum and dad bicker, mum comments on/criticises my life in some way, dad just sits silently or hides on the computer and I end up crying myself to sleep in the early hours of the morning because why can't my family be normal?
I tell people I hate Christmas. That's not entirely true. I hate the fake festivities that Christmas is expected to be. I love that Jesus came in to the world, I love that no matter how many times I screw up, I'm still forgiven because my sin was taken when Jesus died on the cross, I love that God loves me (even when I can't quite understand why!). I just hate the hype and the family expectation and the "everyone look at what a wonderful Christmas we're having" thing, especially on social media. In the build up to Christmas I cannot cope with the discussion over "what does your family do for Christmas?" "oh I've got this extended family and that extended family and even though a few years ago this happened, we still love having them at Christmas time" GREAT but it doesn't work for everyone. And apparently it's not limited to Christmas with my parents, but also this year we had Christmas as an intern house. I cried my way through the whole entire day because it's overwhelming. Christmas has never been a big family thing, it hasn't involved lots of games, and I definitely am not used to "protected family time but we can bend the rules because it's x" Maybe when I have a family of my own it'll be different. We'll make new traditions, we'll actually go to church on Christmas Day, and midnight communion the night before, and it'll be a day free of arguments no matter what happens. That's my hope for the future. Right now I have to suck it up and admit Christmas sucks, that being poorly is actually a really good way to survive it because I can "need a lie down" when I can't face anything more, and just remember that it isn't about family but about God. There is hope, because Jesus is light. Jesus brings life where there appears to be none. Right now is hard, but the future will be worth it. To look back and see where God has brought me, through all this rubbish in the middle.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned
Isaiah 9:2 (ESV)
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
John 1:5 (ESV)
Tuesday 22 December 2015
Long time, no post
It's been a very long term and I've neglected this blog a little but finally it's the holidays! It's been a long time since I had real holidays that come at the end of term- actually it's probably been 7 years! Since I left school, I've always had some sort of work that keeps me going til Christmas Eve. But not this year. How exciting. Except I am exhausted. Not in the standard exhaustion way but the "I'm sat here and can barely keep my eyes open even though I've done pretty much nothing today"
To the point this is day 2 of trying to post this. I'm just so darn tired. 10 minutes is my maximum attention span before I am done and need to do something else. Currently my head wants me to go back to sleep. 10 minutes of posting, and then I will indulge in a mid morning nap. And this is how I see my entire Christmas break going. Wake up, eat, sleep, shower, sleep, do something semi-productive, sleep and so on. I'd like to tell you that I have real plans, but genuinely this is it. I need Becca time to reset.
This term has been filled with so many emotions, so much growth, so much change, so many long days that I no longer have the energy for anything more. And it starts again in just under 2 weeks. MADNESS.
Tomorrow I will write a real blog. I have several in mind. I just wanted to post to say I'm still alive but right now my body is crying out for a nap. So nap time it is.
To the point this is day 2 of trying to post this. I'm just so darn tired. 10 minutes is my maximum attention span before I am done and need to do something else. Currently my head wants me to go back to sleep. 10 minutes of posting, and then I will indulge in a mid morning nap. And this is how I see my entire Christmas break going. Wake up, eat, sleep, shower, sleep, do something semi-productive, sleep and so on. I'd like to tell you that I have real plans, but genuinely this is it. I need Becca time to reset.
This term has been filled with so many emotions, so much growth, so much change, so many long days that I no longer have the energy for anything more. And it starts again in just under 2 weeks. MADNESS.
Tomorrow I will write a real blog. I have several in mind. I just wanted to post to say I'm still alive but right now my body is crying out for a nap. So nap time it is.
Saturday 7 November 2015
One Year...
I've said it before but a lot can change in just 365 days.
On Monday, I will be 1 whole year overdose free, I woke up one Sunday morning last year, wishing I hadn't but also relieved. I had no idea, going to bed the night before, if my body would survive the third overdose in 4 days. Part of me hoped it wouldn't. It was easier to let the darkness win.
On that Sunday evening my friend dragged me up for prayer. I'd just returned from looking after my grandad for a month. Work was horrific. My friends didn't understand. I felt like even God had given up on me. Asking for prayer was a last ditch attempt. I felt nothing. The entire time the vicar was praying for me, I was planning how many tablets I'd need to buy to make this last attempt the final one. All I needed to do was get through the 45 minute drive home and then I could say goodbye to the world. I remember when I moved 45 minutes away, people freaked out and said I shouldn't be that far away and living alone. Little did they know that 45 minute drive would save my life.
At some point, driving along a dark road, I told myself I could have 24 more hours and if I still felt that awful, I could end it. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold myself accountable though, so emailed my pastorate leader when I got home. In typing that email I promised her I'd not overdose until 2nd January. I have no idea where that date came from, or how I managed to even hit "send". One moment of courage and I'm still overwhelmed at the thought it ever happened. I read the email frequently in disbelief.
On 2nd January, I wanted to reward myself with an overdose for not overdosing to that point. Instead I text a friend promising her until 10th July. I got to my 25th birthday. A day I never dreamt of seeing. 4 months later, here I am. I didn't need to make any more promises to get to this point. Every day is still a battle. My thoughts tempt me every so often to buy more tablets "just in case". I still get scared taking paracetamol for a headache in case I can't stop. But from Monday I'll be a year overdose free. A year without an attempt to take my life. Considering this past year; all the instability, the changes, the admissions about my past, friendships changing, it is unbelievable that I have made it through. In just one year, so much has changed. I still struggle to see a future after July 2016 but I know I'll make it there. I may not have had a conventional journey to recovery this past year, but I'm getting there.
Every day involves me fighting, it is going to take a long time, but I know God has given me the strength to choose to fight every single day. I have to choose to be courageous every single day.
"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts"- Winston Churchill
On Monday, I will be 1 whole year overdose free, I woke up one Sunday morning last year, wishing I hadn't but also relieved. I had no idea, going to bed the night before, if my body would survive the third overdose in 4 days. Part of me hoped it wouldn't. It was easier to let the darkness win.
On that Sunday evening my friend dragged me up for prayer. I'd just returned from looking after my grandad for a month. Work was horrific. My friends didn't understand. I felt like even God had given up on me. Asking for prayer was a last ditch attempt. I felt nothing. The entire time the vicar was praying for me, I was planning how many tablets I'd need to buy to make this last attempt the final one. All I needed to do was get through the 45 minute drive home and then I could say goodbye to the world. I remember when I moved 45 minutes away, people freaked out and said I shouldn't be that far away and living alone. Little did they know that 45 minute drive would save my life.
At some point, driving along a dark road, I told myself I could have 24 more hours and if I still felt that awful, I could end it. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold myself accountable though, so emailed my pastorate leader when I got home. In typing that email I promised her I'd not overdose until 2nd January. I have no idea where that date came from, or how I managed to even hit "send". One moment of courage and I'm still overwhelmed at the thought it ever happened. I read the email frequently in disbelief.
On 2nd January, I wanted to reward myself with an overdose for not overdosing to that point. Instead I text a friend promising her until 10th July. I got to my 25th birthday. A day I never dreamt of seeing. 4 months later, here I am. I didn't need to make any more promises to get to this point. Every day is still a battle. My thoughts tempt me every so often to buy more tablets "just in case". I still get scared taking paracetamol for a headache in case I can't stop. But from Monday I'll be a year overdose free. A year without an attempt to take my life. Considering this past year; all the instability, the changes, the admissions about my past, friendships changing, it is unbelievable that I have made it through. In just one year, so much has changed. I still struggle to see a future after July 2016 but I know I'll make it there. I may not have had a conventional journey to recovery this past year, but I'm getting there.
Every day involves me fighting, it is going to take a long time, but I know God has given me the strength to choose to fight every single day. I have to choose to be courageous every single day.
"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts"- Winston Churchill
Thursday 22 October 2015
Courage
Courage is a word I don't often hear these days, and yet these last few days the following quote has been floating around my head.
'Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying"I will try again tomorrow"'
Several people this week have mentioned that I have so much courage, and at first I've been very quick to correct them: I don't do anything major that warrants that label. In induction week I used the adjective "brave" to describe myself because others said it, not because I believed it. However this quote keeps reappearing and I'm beginning to realise what people mean. No, I'm not jumping off cliffs, or climbing mountains or putting myself completely out there, but I am getting up every morning, I am getting myself to work every day, I'm not running away when things get difficult, I'm starting to speak about things. While others may see these things as trivial; something they manage without even thinking, these are my mountains that I am climbing.
It's been one roller coaster of a week. I went to a different church on Sunday, my nana spent a night in hospital, Alpha is a challenge, I'm angry at my parents, angry at God, struggling to fight the destructive thoughts, feeling totally unwanted by many people, I've cried my eyes for hours, I've screamed at my pillow, vented at so many and yet my working week is nearly done and here I am. I'm still standing and with a tiny bit of energy left. I'm amazed as the next person that I'm still going.
People this week have said that it's a privilege to be part of my journey, that they're really proud of me, that I'm doing so well. I've laughed at most of them and told them to stop lying to me, but as I sit typing this I'm beginning to realise that they're right. I'm defying a lot of odds right now. 11 months ago, I didn't even know if I'd wake up the next morning and here I am beginning to live, not simply survive. Someone else said to me this week that those who struggle the most are healing and growing and end up thriving. I'm praying this applies to me too. Right now I don't know what I'll be doing in a year, and I don't really want to know either, but actually I know I'll be alive. I may still only be just learning to walk through life, but that's ok. These things take time. I'm healing day by day. God has been telling me this week I need to slow down. I do, before I burn myself out again. It's not sustainable to live at the pace I have been, never wanting to stop to enjoy the journey and only focusing on the destination. That's not the way to go. I'm starting to see that. Right now I need to be brave every single day and face the demons that tell me to run, to disappear, to give up. I may not shout loudly, nor seek praise for these things, but just getting out of bed is enough sometimes and I notice only by reflection. Reflection that only happens when I stop and take a breath.
It's ok. I can be courageous, just in my own little way.
Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.
-1 Corinthians 16: 13-14
Thursday 8 October 2015
It's not all rainbows
A friend of mine wrote a new blog post today and so I hopped on over to her blog to read it. And then her post from a year ago caught my eye. She wrote about how she thought things would be easier now she lived with other Christians and worked for a church, but it was still difficult. It hit home. I've hit exactly the same wall, and I've been kind of avoiding blogging because I don't want to sound horrible and negative.
Genuinely, I love this place; I love the people I live with; I love the work I'm doing; I love my boss; I love that I have a room mate. That doesn't mean everything is rosy.
I think one of the hardest things for me recently has been living in community. We do everything together; live, work, eat, pray, socialise. I am not used to that. Over the last 3 weeks I have had a crash course in living with people. Over the last 8 months I have taught myself to cope with mental illness. I have not yet taught myself to cope with mental illness while living in community. It's flipping hard. I want to shut down and hide in bed until my brain resets. I want someone to hug me 24/7. I have not yet managed to find the balance; letting people in without worrying them. It is hard.
I had a bit of a bad experience my first week. A fellow intern didn't believe something I disclosed to her. Since then it has been increasingly hard thing to open up, because what if no-one else believes me? The other night, while on Alpha training, we had to do a role play. My character was one with a negative attitude. Someone else in my group commented after that it's really hard to deal with me when I'm being negative and that I'm a heavy presence. They were commenting on the character, alas it went straight in to my head "See, you're heavy. Lose some weight. People might take you seriously then. No-one likes a miserable cow."
I had a 1:1 meeting with an incredibly trusted person yesterday. She was present for the Alpha training and mentioned that she was frantically praying when my "negative attitude" was being commented on that I didn't take it to heart. At least I could be honest with her about it all! I had one of those moments while speaking to her when I say things I didn't even realise I was thinking, I'm not going to lie, my head is a lot darker than I care to say out loud, but she gets me and doesn't shy away when I tell her the truth. We talked, I cried, we laughed, she prayed. I felt better.
I know one meeting doesn't fix everything but admitting it is the first step. I'm exhausted and I find it so much harder to fight when I'm tired. I'm constantly busy and I've been neglecting the life-affirming friends who mean so much to me. I'm giving myself constantly but not taking time for myself. This has to change. I cannot survive like this.
In our first week our School of Ministry pastor gave us a bit of a catch phrase, that he'd been given while praying; "not just surviving; thriving" and right now I'm bouncing in the ocean. I'm not sinking, but I'm definitely not swimming. It's not a life, it's an existence. I have such an opportunity this year and I cannot throw it away because I let mental illness win for the 100th time. I need to embrace every moment of time with people, but also make time for myself. Sometimes that time for myself can be with my dearest friends, sometimes it can just be taking an extra long shower. I need to focus on our teaching sessions. It's such a gift to be getting such amazing theology teaching and I don't want to miss out. Most of all I need to grow closer to God in so many ways. I need to be more disciplined. Sit and have quiet times with God, read my Bible every day, take time to listen to what He wants to say to me.
Yesterday a friend told me "sometime we have to have bad days in order to see the progress we have made". I couldn't see it as she said it, but the more we talked the more I saw just how far I've come in 11 months. And I've got 11 more months to go even further. Challenge accepted.
Genuinely, I love this place; I love the people I live with; I love the work I'm doing; I love my boss; I love that I have a room mate. That doesn't mean everything is rosy.
I think one of the hardest things for me recently has been living in community. We do everything together; live, work, eat, pray, socialise. I am not used to that. Over the last 3 weeks I have had a crash course in living with people. Over the last 8 months I have taught myself to cope with mental illness. I have not yet taught myself to cope with mental illness while living in community. It's flipping hard. I want to shut down and hide in bed until my brain resets. I want someone to hug me 24/7. I have not yet managed to find the balance; letting people in without worrying them. It is hard.
I had a bit of a bad experience my first week. A fellow intern didn't believe something I disclosed to her. Since then it has been increasingly hard thing to open up, because what if no-one else believes me? The other night, while on Alpha training, we had to do a role play. My character was one with a negative attitude. Someone else in my group commented after that it's really hard to deal with me when I'm being negative and that I'm a heavy presence. They were commenting on the character, alas it went straight in to my head "See, you're heavy. Lose some weight. People might take you seriously then. No-one likes a miserable cow."
I had a 1:1 meeting with an incredibly trusted person yesterday. She was present for the Alpha training and mentioned that she was frantically praying when my "negative attitude" was being commented on that I didn't take it to heart. At least I could be honest with her about it all! I had one of those moments while speaking to her when I say things I didn't even realise I was thinking, I'm not going to lie, my head is a lot darker than I care to say out loud, but she gets me and doesn't shy away when I tell her the truth. We talked, I cried, we laughed, she prayed. I felt better.
I know one meeting doesn't fix everything but admitting it is the first step. I'm exhausted and I find it so much harder to fight when I'm tired. I'm constantly busy and I've been neglecting the life-affirming friends who mean so much to me. I'm giving myself constantly but not taking time for myself. This has to change. I cannot survive like this.
In our first week our School of Ministry pastor gave us a bit of a catch phrase, that he'd been given while praying; "not just surviving; thriving" and right now I'm bouncing in the ocean. I'm not sinking, but I'm definitely not swimming. It's not a life, it's an existence. I have such an opportunity this year and I cannot throw it away because I let mental illness win for the 100th time. I need to embrace every moment of time with people, but also make time for myself. Sometimes that time for myself can be with my dearest friends, sometimes it can just be taking an extra long shower. I need to focus on our teaching sessions. It's such a gift to be getting such amazing theology teaching and I don't want to miss out. Most of all I need to grow closer to God in so many ways. I need to be more disciplined. Sit and have quiet times with God, read my Bible every day, take time to listen to what He wants to say to me.
Yesterday a friend told me "sometime we have to have bad days in order to see the progress we have made". I couldn't see it as she said it, but the more we talked the more I saw just how far I've come in 11 months. And I've got 11 more months to go even further. Challenge accepted.
Sunday 20 September 2015
Settling In
A week goes incredibly fast when you're busy. It has been 7 days since I moved from the comfort of my own room, in a small place, with one other person and a tortoise for company to a shared room, in a 4 storey house, with 10 other people. I predicted this would be horribly overwhelming and I wouldn't be able to cope and I'd have a meltdown and be desperate to leave and go back to my own safe space. Apparently it's been quite different.
We started with a church event; God's Empowering Presence Day. It was long, and intense. There was lots of worship and seeking the Lord and some of it felt so irrelevant to me. However I started to realise (though it took me a few more days to articulate) that the world was starting to become brighter. The colours more intense. The people less intimidating. Now, don't get me wrong, I still find crowds and unknown people and being out alone at night particularly anxiety provoking, but things seem a bit more real. I've been floating through the world for so long and finally I'm beginning to find my place.
The earlier part of this week was spent meeting people. So many people. I'm so thankful that I know them all because if I had to learn names and offices and job roles and remember what they do for interns then my brain would have exploded. Alongside that, our pastor didn't give us a timetable until late on Monday afternoon. For a girl who likes routine and knowing what is happening, this was incredibly unsettling. But I coped, so much better than I could have expected, because everyone was in the same situation.
Wednesday afternoon was the thing I had been so desperately waiting for. Department time! The wonderful children's pastor took us out for coffee, outlined our job descriptions and talked a little bit more about our responsibilities. I'm going to be leading the weekday 0-5s group. Terrifying but exciting!
And then came our time off. So glorious. I saw 4 of the Oxford colleges with some of the girls, had coffee and cake with friends, cooked for everyone, and went to a house warming party. And it was all so wonderful. So many people commenting just how happy I seem at the moment. There's stuff going on under the surface; today I had a bit of an anxiety meltdown. But it's still so wonderful. And then my best friend today said how happy I looked in my photo and that it's so rare that my genuine smile is captured.
I'm so thankful. Things feel so right, even when it seems difficult. I have to appreciate every good day, because I can never guarantee the next.
This year won't be easy, but it will be worth it. I'm so excited to see how things change!
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight"
-Proverbs 3:5-6
We started with a church event; God's Empowering Presence Day. It was long, and intense. There was lots of worship and seeking the Lord and some of it felt so irrelevant to me. However I started to realise (though it took me a few more days to articulate) that the world was starting to become brighter. The colours more intense. The people less intimidating. Now, don't get me wrong, I still find crowds and unknown people and being out alone at night particularly anxiety provoking, but things seem a bit more real. I've been floating through the world for so long and finally I'm beginning to find my place.
The earlier part of this week was spent meeting people. So many people. I'm so thankful that I know them all because if I had to learn names and offices and job roles and remember what they do for interns then my brain would have exploded. Alongside that, our pastor didn't give us a timetable until late on Monday afternoon. For a girl who likes routine and knowing what is happening, this was incredibly unsettling. But I coped, so much better than I could have expected, because everyone was in the same situation.
Wednesday afternoon was the thing I had been so desperately waiting for. Department time! The wonderful children's pastor took us out for coffee, outlined our job descriptions and talked a little bit more about our responsibilities. I'm going to be leading the weekday 0-5s group. Terrifying but exciting!
And then came our time off. So glorious. I saw 4 of the Oxford colleges with some of the girls, had coffee and cake with friends, cooked for everyone, and went to a house warming party. And it was all so wonderful. So many people commenting just how happy I seem at the moment. There's stuff going on under the surface; today I had a bit of an anxiety meltdown. But it's still so wonderful. And then my best friend today said how happy I looked in my photo and that it's so rare that my genuine smile is captured.
I'm so thankful. Things feel so right, even when it seems difficult. I have to appreciate every good day, because I can never guarantee the next.
This year won't be easy, but it will be worth it. I'm so excited to see how things change!
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight"
-Proverbs 3:5-6
Thursday 10 September 2015
Suicide
Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. I felt like I should blog to mark the occasion, because suicide affects everyone, even if you don't know it yet. It may be you, the person reading this. Please know that there's more to life than whatever you're going through now. It may be someone in your family, a close friend, someone you mentor. They've told you and now you're supporting them. Love them, let them know you're there but please don't sacrifice your own mental health for the sake of another. They want you to be ok too. Finally there's those who don't say a word, who day to day function, you'd never guess. It might be a close friend, a colleague, someone who pretends it is all ok. Give them somewhere safe to talk. I speak from experience when I say it is one of the most terrifying things to tell someone your innermost thoughts.
2 years ago, I posted on Facebook about World Suicide Prevention Day and how anyone could be struggling but we just don't know. I'd taken my first serious overdose as an adult 2 months prior. A lot of people reading that status had no idea just how much I was trying to prevent someone else being in the same position I had been.
I decided I wanted to see what had changed so scrolled through my blog from last year. Honestly, I don't have a clue who the shell of a person was writing those things. I can't put myself in her shoes. I can't even work out what she was going through. How did I get so poorly and slip so easily under the radar? I was destroying myself a bit more every day. No, at that time I wasn't overdosing but I have no idea how I was even getting dressed, going in to work, convincing my manager that it was a blip; telling the CMHT desperately that I didn't want to live any more. I was chronically suicidal and yet, because my mood wasn't declining (how could it?!) they did nothing.
One year later, several referrals to the CMHT, a re-referral to ED services, another round of failed therapy, more medications, an unsupportive job and eventually 8 months of unemployment; I am sat here. In one piece. About to start my latest adventure.
I was empty, there was nothing left of Becca. And yet, I still had friends who loved me; people who spent endless hours telling me it would be ok, that I was beautiful, that I was loved, that God loved me (even when I was a total mess!). They came over to cook for me when I couldn't face cooking, they gave me a safe place to stay for a night when I couldn't trust myself, they turned up on my doorstep when I tried to push them away, they text me just to remind me they were there. I couldn't have done it without them all, nor without God providing for me when I thought I had lost everything. I needed stability in a whirlwind of chaos.
This time last year, I never imagined I would be sat here now. I couldn't see the next hour, let alone the next year. But here I am. I came out the other side. I'm not going to sit here and say everything is ok now. It isn't. I know I still need my medication every single day; no matter what that little voice says. I know that change still sends me spiralling to an extent. I know I'll probably need to end up back in therapy at some point. I know that the little voice gets louder when I'm tired, and when I'm hormonal. But I know there is so much more than taking those pills I crave. So much more than trying to starve myself until I don't exist. Sometimes we need darkness to appreciate the light. Sometimes we have to have moments to remind us how far we've come. I'm dealing with new things. Things I hadn't ever mentioned before. But it's because I'm stronger now. I can cope (just about). It isn't easy but I know it's going to be worth it. God broke me down and rebuilt me once before, He can do it again. I know He will. And this time I need to trust Him, because it will be worth it. Life is so much more worth it than sitting every day hoping this will be my last, hoping that people forget about me, praying that I don't wake up the next day. That's not even existing. Life is for living. Please, if you're hurting, know how loved you are, how valuable your life is, know someone is waiting for you to talk. It's terrifying, but it's worth it. Please. Speak out. No life is ever worth destroying. Hold on. Reach out. I love you.
Finally, I just discovered this blog post. It's haunting. It's beautiful. It has better words than I ever could write. Please read it. Don't be afraid.
2 years ago, I posted on Facebook about World Suicide Prevention Day and how anyone could be struggling but we just don't know. I'd taken my first serious overdose as an adult 2 months prior. A lot of people reading that status had no idea just how much I was trying to prevent someone else being in the same position I had been.
I decided I wanted to see what had changed so scrolled through my blog from last year. Honestly, I don't have a clue who the shell of a person was writing those things. I can't put myself in her shoes. I can't even work out what she was going through. How did I get so poorly and slip so easily under the radar? I was destroying myself a bit more every day. No, at that time I wasn't overdosing but I have no idea how I was even getting dressed, going in to work, convincing my manager that it was a blip; telling the CMHT desperately that I didn't want to live any more. I was chronically suicidal and yet, because my mood wasn't declining (how could it?!) they did nothing.
One year later, several referrals to the CMHT, a re-referral to ED services, another round of failed therapy, more medications, an unsupportive job and eventually 8 months of unemployment; I am sat here. In one piece. About to start my latest adventure.
I was empty, there was nothing left of Becca. And yet, I still had friends who loved me; people who spent endless hours telling me it would be ok, that I was beautiful, that I was loved, that God loved me (even when I was a total mess!). They came over to cook for me when I couldn't face cooking, they gave me a safe place to stay for a night when I couldn't trust myself, they turned up on my doorstep when I tried to push them away, they text me just to remind me they were there. I couldn't have done it without them all, nor without God providing for me when I thought I had lost everything. I needed stability in a whirlwind of chaos.
This time last year, I never imagined I would be sat here now. I couldn't see the next hour, let alone the next year. But here I am. I came out the other side. I'm not going to sit here and say everything is ok now. It isn't. I know I still need my medication every single day; no matter what that little voice says. I know that change still sends me spiralling to an extent. I know I'll probably need to end up back in therapy at some point. I know that the little voice gets louder when I'm tired, and when I'm hormonal. But I know there is so much more than taking those pills I crave. So much more than trying to starve myself until I don't exist. Sometimes we need darkness to appreciate the light. Sometimes we have to have moments to remind us how far we've come. I'm dealing with new things. Things I hadn't ever mentioned before. But it's because I'm stronger now. I can cope (just about). It isn't easy but I know it's going to be worth it. God broke me down and rebuilt me once before, He can do it again. I know He will. And this time I need to trust Him, because it will be worth it. Life is so much more worth it than sitting every day hoping this will be my last, hoping that people forget about me, praying that I don't wake up the next day. That's not even existing. Life is for living. Please, if you're hurting, know how loved you are, how valuable your life is, know someone is waiting for you to talk. It's terrifying, but it's worth it. Please. Speak out. No life is ever worth destroying. Hold on. Reach out. I love you.
Finally, I just discovered this blog post. It's haunting. It's beautiful. It has better words than I ever could write. Please read it. Don't be afraid.
Saturday 5 September 2015
Saying Goodbye...
For some time now I've subconsciously known that this trip to New Jersey, that I've just returned from, would be my last. A couple of weeks prior to departure some things happened (which I am not going to divulge) and I began to admit, out loud, that really this would be my last adventure over there.
We arrived on the Friday. On the Saturday I was having to say the first round of goodbyes. Having spent ages preparing myself to say "this is going to be my last trip for a few years", I omitted that some may ask "why?". And so the first response to this was "I just feel like it's time to move on". In all honesty, that is a truly pathetic reply when saying goodbye to some dear friends who have supported you through some really tough times. Thankfully they didn't ask further questions.
As the week went on, the goodbyes got harder. I'd perfected the answer to "why?" and "I'm never coming back again" had morphed in to "I won't be back for a few years at least"; which is easier to say to people who care deeply.
And then we came to Friday- the day my travel buddy left. Now, there are things she knows about me that not even some of my friends who live round the corner know, and yet still I couldn't find the right words to use to say goodbye. I still haven't managed to give her a reason, but I know she won't ask. She knows I'll volunteer information as needed. She's been wonderful and a very dear friend. I know I'll see her again, I just don't know when.
Saturday, the day I left. The tears had to arrive properly at some point, and once they started they continued to pour down my face as I drove to the airport. The final goodbye was to a family incredibly dear to me. They've rescued me when the town I was in was evacuated because of a hurricane, they've driven me places, introduced me to a new jewellery addiction, never flinched when I've told them of my past, and always been there with an open door and a smile whenever I've been in the area. One of their daughters has Rett Syndrome (find out more here) but that's never stopped our adventures- especially when cake is involved! Over the last few months, as my interest in special needs has waned, my passion for Rett Syndrome research hasn't. If I ever get around to doing some elaborate sponsored event (namely skydiving or abseiling) it will be for NJRSA. This family mean the world to me. And as I hugged them goodbye, one last time, "goodbye" became "see you later" and I prayed that the next time I see them isn't related to illness/disaster.
It isn't often you get to say goodbye, knowing it very well could be the last time you see someone. You say "see you soon!" and then something happens and you never see them again.
I don't have many regrets in life, but one thing I do look back on with sadness is never being able to say goodbye to my uncle while he was still alive. Except it's not true. Because I did have the chance, but routine dictated; he came to say goodbye, I ran away and hid. Who, at the age of 17, changes the habit of a lifetime and suddenly decides to be kind to relatives? Who thinks, at the age of 17, that this will be the last time you see someone to close to you while they're alive? I didn't. I wish I'd cherished the time we had together.
And so, while it now seems crazy to say "goodbye" so sincerely when I'm thinking "maybe in 5 years I'll go back" or "I want them at my wedding", it's because I'm scared that I'll miss my chance to. It's a "just in case" because I love them so much. It would make it to my regret list if I didn't say goodbye when I had the chance. I know it's "see you later" but it scares me to not say "goodbye". It's a silly fear. If I cry and say "goodbye", I don't mean "goodbye" or "see you later", I mean "I love you".
We arrived on the Friday. On the Saturday I was having to say the first round of goodbyes. Having spent ages preparing myself to say "this is going to be my last trip for a few years", I omitted that some may ask "why?". And so the first response to this was "I just feel like it's time to move on". In all honesty, that is a truly pathetic reply when saying goodbye to some dear friends who have supported you through some really tough times. Thankfully they didn't ask further questions.
As the week went on, the goodbyes got harder. I'd perfected the answer to "why?" and "I'm never coming back again" had morphed in to "I won't be back for a few years at least"; which is easier to say to people who care deeply.
And then we came to Friday- the day my travel buddy left. Now, there are things she knows about me that not even some of my friends who live round the corner know, and yet still I couldn't find the right words to use to say goodbye. I still haven't managed to give her a reason, but I know she won't ask. She knows I'll volunteer information as needed. She's been wonderful and a very dear friend. I know I'll see her again, I just don't know when.
Saturday, the day I left. The tears had to arrive properly at some point, and once they started they continued to pour down my face as I drove to the airport. The final goodbye was to a family incredibly dear to me. They've rescued me when the town I was in was evacuated because of a hurricane, they've driven me places, introduced me to a new jewellery addiction, never flinched when I've told them of my past, and always been there with an open door and a smile whenever I've been in the area. One of their daughters has Rett Syndrome (find out more here) but that's never stopped our adventures- especially when cake is involved! Over the last few months, as my interest in special needs has waned, my passion for Rett Syndrome research hasn't. If I ever get around to doing some elaborate sponsored event (namely skydiving or abseiling) it will be for NJRSA. This family mean the world to me. And as I hugged them goodbye, one last time, "goodbye" became "see you later" and I prayed that the next time I see them isn't related to illness/disaster.
It isn't often you get to say goodbye, knowing it very well could be the last time you see someone. You say "see you soon!" and then something happens and you never see them again.
I don't have many regrets in life, but one thing I do look back on with sadness is never being able to say goodbye to my uncle while he was still alive. Except it's not true. Because I did have the chance, but routine dictated; he came to say goodbye, I ran away and hid. Who, at the age of 17, changes the habit of a lifetime and suddenly decides to be kind to relatives? Who thinks, at the age of 17, that this will be the last time you see someone to close to you while they're alive? I didn't. I wish I'd cherished the time we had together.
And so, while it now seems crazy to say "goodbye" so sincerely when I'm thinking "maybe in 5 years I'll go back" or "I want them at my wedding", it's because I'm scared that I'll miss my chance to. It's a "just in case" because I love them so much. It would make it to my regret list if I didn't say goodbye when I had the chance. I know it's "see you later" but it scares me to not say "goodbye". It's a silly fear. If I cry and say "goodbye", I don't mean "goodbye" or "see you later", I mean "I love you".
Wednesday 12 August 2015
Keeping an Open Mind
Something is floating around my mind currently is when does a slip up become a lapse and when does that lapse become a relapse? I've slipped back in to several bad habits and I'm not sure at what point I need to tell someone something is wrong.
I know everyone has bad days. I know that I am no exception to this. But every single time I have a bad day, I freak that I'm falling back in to depression and ohmygoodness how can I stop it? Then wake up the next morning, feeling better, realising that the previous day was just "one of those days".
I recently had one of these bad days while away at New Wine. I felt completely empty, everything felt wrong and I had no interest in anything at all. I was afraid I was hitting full relapse territory. Christians often preach on passions, and how every Christian should have a specific passion. I currently don't have one and I was so scared. I didn't have a passion, my depression is very definitely linked to lack of interest in anything, therefore I was depressed again and I was never getting out. I spent the rest of the day wallowing in self-pity because I am *never* going to be well and I'm going to be stuck in the grasp of depression forever.
The next day I had a bit of a revelation. I didn't wake up with interest in everything again, nor did I wake up feeling a whole lot better. Wandering around the site I realised that I didn't have a passion anymore and that is a good thing. I no longer feel that I *should* be passionate about working with people with different needs. I no longer feel that I need to return to nursing because that is my training background. I no longer feel the need to travel the world to escape life here in Oxford. This doesn't mean I'm depressed. I have the chance to reset myself. Rather than being interested in nothing, I can be open to everything. I can enter my internship with a completely open mind. I won't be sat there thinking "this isn't what I want to do" or "I wish I were doing x,y or z instead, because I don't care for this" I can be wondering where the year will lead me instead of wondering what could have been.
I can enter the internship I'm totally open to the possibilities to see where God takes me. This isn't a relapse, it's a shifting of priorities.
I know everyone has bad days. I know that I am no exception to this. But every single time I have a bad day, I freak that I'm falling back in to depression and ohmygoodness how can I stop it? Then wake up the next morning, feeling better, realising that the previous day was just "one of those days".
I recently had one of these bad days while away at New Wine. I felt completely empty, everything felt wrong and I had no interest in anything at all. I was afraid I was hitting full relapse territory. Christians often preach on passions, and how every Christian should have a specific passion. I currently don't have one and I was so scared. I didn't have a passion, my depression is very definitely linked to lack of interest in anything, therefore I was depressed again and I was never getting out. I spent the rest of the day wallowing in self-pity because I am *never* going to be well and I'm going to be stuck in the grasp of depression forever.
The next day I had a bit of a revelation. I didn't wake up with interest in everything again, nor did I wake up feeling a whole lot better. Wandering around the site I realised that I didn't have a passion anymore and that is a good thing. I no longer feel that I *should* be passionate about working with people with different needs. I no longer feel that I need to return to nursing because that is my training background. I no longer feel the need to travel the world to escape life here in Oxford. This doesn't mean I'm depressed. I have the chance to reset myself. Rather than being interested in nothing, I can be open to everything. I can enter my internship with a completely open mind. I won't be sat there thinking "this isn't what I want to do" or "I wish I were doing x,y or z instead, because I don't care for this" I can be wondering where the year will lead me instead of wondering what could have been.
I can enter the internship I'm totally open to the possibilities to see where God takes me. This isn't a relapse, it's a shifting of priorities.
Saturday 8 August 2015
Growing in God
These past 2 weeks have been such a whirlwind.
The first week was Holiday Club, titled Grand Designs. We studied the story of Joseph, which was really cool, and talked about how God has grand designs for our lives. It was so wonderful to watch the children grow in confidence, friendships and willingness to engage with God. And yet it was also such a learning curve for me. I'm good with children, but not particularly comfortable with them. I always worry that they'll hate me, that they'll ask questions and I won't know the answers, and that I'll be made a fool of in one way or another. The age group I fear this most with is 4-6 years old. The small group I was co-leading were all 4 and 5 year olds. Cue major panic and complete fear of being well out of my comfort zone! But after a week with amazing and supportive co-leaders, it's less scary. Still not comfortable, but better than before. I'm not going to run away from working with young children any more, well I hope not anyway!
The week just gone, I spent in a tent, surrounded by thousands of other Christians, at the New Wine conference. I've never been to something on such a large scale, and never dreamed I would go on my own! There were so many venues and so many seminar options that to start it was very overwhelming; what if I go to the wrong venue, what if I end up at a seminar that isn't for me, what if, what if, what if. I chose by topic, not by speaker or venue, and thoroughly enjoyed every single one I attended. Some challenged me, some made me think, some were life-giving, all have changed me in some way.
The majority of seminars I attended were around prayer. No, I wasn't looking for a magic formula to make sure I always pray when I should. No, I wasn't trying to find out how to make sure God hears every prayer, and answers every single one immediately. I don't really know what I was looking for, but I learnt so much. How to make prayer more appealing so I don't let life get in the way, make sure I grow in my relationship with God, am present for prayer and not letting my mind wander. Early on in the week, I uncovered the gift of tongues in myself. It's a seriously weird experience to start but feels natural after such a short time. I never dreamt that speaking in tongues was my thing, but there we go. God likes to surprise us.
Another surprise from God was sitting in a seminar about blessings, when I very clearly heard God say "I love you". My auto response was "why?" I need to stop questioning and just accept it.
The biggest surprise, however, was the day I went to a different venue. The worship wasn't my style at all, I wasn't keen on the whole atmosphere and was planning to walk out. And then the speaker stood up and started talking about forgiveness. I started to think of a list of people I need to forgive, but God brought up a situation I wasn't even aware of the need for forgiveness. After my uncle died, contact between my family and my cousin's family stopped. God challenged me to forgive my cousin's mother. I didn't realise there was anything there, but there is. I had a deep belief everything that she did was against me, that I personally had done something to cause this split in the family. I hadn't, I haven't. I see that now. And slowly the forgiveness process is beginning. I need to stop mourning my uncle (it's been 8 years after all!) and begin to mourn the loss of relationship with my cousin. I went on a little adventure after this revelation and things feel better now. Forgiving my "aunt" will take a long time, she took away my best friend, but things have to change. I can't let my past define me (that's definitely for another post!) I have to trust God that this is the right time to deal with these things. I'm praying this will help me to lean on God more, to let Him be in control. It won't be easy, but I know it will be worth it in the end.
The first week was Holiday Club, titled Grand Designs. We studied the story of Joseph, which was really cool, and talked about how God has grand designs for our lives. It was so wonderful to watch the children grow in confidence, friendships and willingness to engage with God. And yet it was also such a learning curve for me. I'm good with children, but not particularly comfortable with them. I always worry that they'll hate me, that they'll ask questions and I won't know the answers, and that I'll be made a fool of in one way or another. The age group I fear this most with is 4-6 years old. The small group I was co-leading were all 4 and 5 year olds. Cue major panic and complete fear of being well out of my comfort zone! But after a week with amazing and supportive co-leaders, it's less scary. Still not comfortable, but better than before. I'm not going to run away from working with young children any more, well I hope not anyway!
The week just gone, I spent in a tent, surrounded by thousands of other Christians, at the New Wine conference. I've never been to something on such a large scale, and never dreamed I would go on my own! There were so many venues and so many seminar options that to start it was very overwhelming; what if I go to the wrong venue, what if I end up at a seminar that isn't for me, what if, what if, what if. I chose by topic, not by speaker or venue, and thoroughly enjoyed every single one I attended. Some challenged me, some made me think, some were life-giving, all have changed me in some way.
The majority of seminars I attended were around prayer. No, I wasn't looking for a magic formula to make sure I always pray when I should. No, I wasn't trying to find out how to make sure God hears every prayer, and answers every single one immediately. I don't really know what I was looking for, but I learnt so much. How to make prayer more appealing so I don't let life get in the way, make sure I grow in my relationship with God, am present for prayer and not letting my mind wander. Early on in the week, I uncovered the gift of tongues in myself. It's a seriously weird experience to start but feels natural after such a short time. I never dreamt that speaking in tongues was my thing, but there we go. God likes to surprise us.
Another surprise from God was sitting in a seminar about blessings, when I very clearly heard God say "I love you". My auto response was "why?" I need to stop questioning and just accept it.
The biggest surprise, however, was the day I went to a different venue. The worship wasn't my style at all, I wasn't keen on the whole atmosphere and was planning to walk out. And then the speaker stood up and started talking about forgiveness. I started to think of a list of people I need to forgive, but God brought up a situation I wasn't even aware of the need for forgiveness. After my uncle died, contact between my family and my cousin's family stopped. God challenged me to forgive my cousin's mother. I didn't realise there was anything there, but there is. I had a deep belief everything that she did was against me, that I personally had done something to cause this split in the family. I hadn't, I haven't. I see that now. And slowly the forgiveness process is beginning. I need to stop mourning my uncle (it's been 8 years after all!) and begin to mourn the loss of relationship with my cousin. I went on a little adventure after this revelation and things feel better now. Forgiving my "aunt" will take a long time, she took away my best friend, but things have to change. I can't let my past define me (that's definitely for another post!) I have to trust God that this is the right time to deal with these things. I'm praying this will help me to lean on God more, to let Him be in control. It won't be easy, but I know it will be worth it in the end.
Friday 24 July 2015
Forgiveness
It takes a lot to make me genuinely angry with a person. It takes even more for me to say I hate anyone. For this reason, I have always considered myself a very forgiving person. Truth is I actually find it incredibly hard to forgive a person if they have upset me, or made me super angry. In my memory, there is only one person in recent years I can say I truly hated.
In the depths of illness, I became a vile person. I was nasty to everyone and took offence to everything. And then there was one final straw and I broke. Details are not important but it was many things over many years. I had had enough. I told this person that I never ever wanted to hear from her ever again. We'd been mistaken for sisters. Now we were strangers. My mother stayed in contact with her, much to my disgust.
Just under 18 months ago, there was a little voice in my head "Talk to her. It's time" I was afraid but I sent a simple message: "It's been a long time. How are you?" Conversation was short, to the point, unnatural. But it was a start. Things had changed, we were both at very different points in life, and still forgiveness did not come. Conversation continued over the next months. Stilted, long gaps between replies. Eventually the friend request on Facebook- a sure sign of mending broken relationships, right?
I made excuses for a long time. I worked odd shifts, I couldn't afford to get home, I had other commitments. I'm unemployed, and have infinite time. I couldn't put it off any longer. Today was the day. I've not quite gotten to forgiveness but I was prepared for this to be an ok meeting. Mother came along as mediator/support. It was a perfectly pleasant meeting. We had lunch. I got to meet her daughter. And that was it. It was underwhelming. I hoped I'd be closer to forgiveness. Instead I was reminded of the pain, the sadness, the frustration. I was not prepared for the flashbacks; all the insensitive comments, and the reminder that I'll never be good enough for my mother. I'm damaged goods. I was hopeful for healing, the start of mending. Instead I was left with deeper wounds. Can forgiveness come from this situation? I have no idea. This is not how I expected to end today, but that is how the day has ended.
Thursday 23 July 2015
Medication Woe
It's days like today I miss Tumblr. I've been trying to decide whether I want to come off one of my medications and probably have made the wrong decision. For the past week I have been taking my evening medication only every other night because I'm bored of it making me fat. This is a truly pathetic excuse for coming off a medication that is making me, on the whole, feel better. I have once again reached the 6 month mark of being on these medications. Whenever I start a new course of antidepressants, the same thing happens. 6 months in, some of the symptoms crop up randomly. And 6 months in, I contemplate coming off the meds. And then I relapse spectacularly and the cycle starts again.
I so want it to be different this time. I didn't stop my meds outright. I've tried to wean myself off them. But with no real medical input it's a challenge to know what to do. Maybe I should stop trying to be my own doctor, suck it up and talk with my GP. All I know is that hallucinations, crying in supermarkets, feeling completely zoned out all the time and just needing to be held aren't particularly helpful to a decent quality of life. Yes, I'm living. Yes, I feel more free than I have in years. But I just want a hug :(
I so want it to be different this time. I didn't stop my meds outright. I've tried to wean myself off them. But with no real medical input it's a challenge to know what to do. Maybe I should stop trying to be my own doctor, suck it up and talk with my GP. All I know is that hallucinations, crying in supermarkets, feeling completely zoned out all the time and just needing to be held aren't particularly helpful to a decent quality of life. Yes, I'm living. Yes, I feel more free than I have in years. But I just want a hug :(
Friday 17 July 2015
25
A week ago I turned 25. To most, this may not seem like a big deal. For the girl who tried everything in her power to not get to 23, this is a massive thing.
I wrote this on Tumblr on my birthday:
I wrote this on Tumblr on my birthday:
"2 years ago, I went to the safari park with some amazing friends. We went for dinner in the evening. I’d been discharged from hospital 24hours before. I believed I should never ever turn 23.
1 year ago, I worked the morning of my birthday. I remember being told that I’d come down from the high eventually. I was excited but I still didn’t believe I had a real place in the world. Someone told me I looked healthier in a photo from the year before. I wanted to be back in that place. I was preparing to relapse on my month long holiday.
Today, I worked this morning and everyone who knew me wished me happy birthday. My colleagues bought me a card and a cake. I’m homeless. I’m technically unemployed. I’m spending this afternoon chilling in the garden by myself. I’m 8 months overdose free. I’m 4 months self harm free. I’ve already eaten 2 slices of cake today. I’m the happiest I have been for over 10 years."
And it's completely true. I am the happiest I have been since my life started falling apart many, many summers ago. I've had moments of happiness, but nothing as complete as this current period. Yes, I've had bad days, but I've reached out, asked for help, or simply just talked to someone. I'm not perfect, I still let the bad thoughts win some days and end up spending my day curled up feeling pathetic but that's still coping without self-destruction. On tough days I'm scheduling nice things for myself too. I can be flexible though, and I'm no longer afraid to say no if things are too difficult or I can't do it with love.
I've learnt to say sorry (more on that next week) I've learnt to love friends, I've learnt to make my own decisions, I've learnt to accept love.
Things have been really up in the air. I moved in to a new place last week and my landlady went away until yesterday. I was terrified she was going to come back and evict me, that this was all a cruel joke, that I didn't deserve good things. But that hasn't happened. She's returned and we're getting on just fine. Everything is going ok. I feel at home. Most importantly I feel safe. I did have a wobbly few days but things are better again. I need to trust God and believe things really are ok. I'm free as long as I trust God. The second I doubt, that freedom vanishes and I find myself falling back in to the safety of chains I have worked so hard to break.
"He fills my life with good things" Psalm 103:5
Friday 3 July 2015
Out of Your Comfort Zone?
At the beginning of June I attended a Women's Conference at my church with that title. It was a challenge to think of what comfort zone I'm still sat in. I worried that I was still in the mental illness comfort zone but I'm not- although I do have to choose every day to keep away from the safety net of hiding in bed, working myself up in to an anxious mess. But that wasn't the comfort zone I really felt God poking me to deal with.
In September I will be one of 4 children's interns at my church. I chose the children's ministry because I know it, it's safe. I applied for a different area of ministry too- one that is truly out of my comfort zone. But here I am- waiting to start full-time in the children's team. And you know what? I'm actually scared. It truly is out of my comfort zone. I have maintained for MANY years that I never want to make a career out of working for children. It's something I enjoy and nothing more. It appears God has other ideas. When it comes to children's ministry, I tend to open my mouth and end up being more involved. I'm hoping over the next 12 months, God's purpose for me becomes even more evident. I find working with children on a serious level, quite difficult. It provokes anxiety in me. I worry that they laugh at me secretly, that they look at me and say "I hope I never turn out like her when I grow up" even though children tend to be the least judgemental, especially in a church situation. I'm sure my fears around this are unnecessary. I'm already a valued member of the team but yet it's still relatively uncomfortable. But maybe the low level comfort is good- and that I can be used in ways that really are far out of my comfort zone- just to test the limits.
Another thing way out of my comfort zone is admitting vulnerability and asking people for a favour. and this week I have had to do a lot of that. On Tuesday the friend I was living with implied I needed to find somewhere else to live. Initially I told my dad I was moving home and there was no other option. But then one pastor at church said she had a spare room from the end of next week that I could move in to. And then I figured it wouldn't hurt to confirm if I could still stay with a friend for the planned night coming up. And then I asked a friend if I could stay with her for a night or two also. This is completely not me. I will do anything for anyone but rarely ask for anything myself. And yet I did. And while it was completely out of my comfort zone, it has had unbelievably wonderful results. I'm going to be back weeks earlier than I ever dreamed, and I am excited. So excited. Sometimes we have to push through the difficult things to reap the amazing benefits. It is so worth it and I must remember this.
In September I will be one of 4 children's interns at my church. I chose the children's ministry because I know it, it's safe. I applied for a different area of ministry too- one that is truly out of my comfort zone. But here I am- waiting to start full-time in the children's team. And you know what? I'm actually scared. It truly is out of my comfort zone. I have maintained for MANY years that I never want to make a career out of working for children. It's something I enjoy and nothing more. It appears God has other ideas. When it comes to children's ministry, I tend to open my mouth and end up being more involved. I'm hoping over the next 12 months, God's purpose for me becomes even more evident. I find working with children on a serious level, quite difficult. It provokes anxiety in me. I worry that they laugh at me secretly, that they look at me and say "I hope I never turn out like her when I grow up" even though children tend to be the least judgemental, especially in a church situation. I'm sure my fears around this are unnecessary. I'm already a valued member of the team but yet it's still relatively uncomfortable. But maybe the low level comfort is good- and that I can be used in ways that really are far out of my comfort zone- just to test the limits.
Another thing way out of my comfort zone is admitting vulnerability and asking people for a favour. and this week I have had to do a lot of that. On Tuesday the friend I was living with implied I needed to find somewhere else to live. Initially I told my dad I was moving home and there was no other option. But then one pastor at church said she had a spare room from the end of next week that I could move in to. And then I figured it wouldn't hurt to confirm if I could still stay with a friend for the planned night coming up. And then I asked a friend if I could stay with her for a night or two also. This is completely not me. I will do anything for anyone but rarely ask for anything myself. And yet I did. And while it was completely out of my comfort zone, it has had unbelievably wonderful results. I'm going to be back weeks earlier than I ever dreamed, and I am excited. So excited. Sometimes we have to push through the difficult things to reap the amazing benefits. It is so worth it and I must remember this.
Thursday 25 June 2015
Progress
Today I went to see a new GP at a new GP surgery. He asked
me questions about overdoses and self-harm and all the standard things you get
asked when requesting anti-depressants from someone new. And it was seriously
joyful to say I haven’t overdosed since November, haven’t had thoughts of doing
so for at least 2 months and haven’t self-harmed since February.
I’ve spent a lot of time with friends recently reflecting on
how far I’ve come in 18 months but actually I think it’s really been the last 4
months in which the biggest changes have occurred. I’ve been struggling to take
credit for this. My friends have been crucial, the pastors at church have been
vital and God has given me unreal strength to do this. But I had to take the first step.
I vowed in November that I’d never take another overdose and
spent the rest of that evening and the next day crying because I was suddenly
so desperate. You know the whole idea of a child so desperately wanting the
thing they can’t have then having a tantrum? That was me. However at the same
time, I was 24 and living alone miles away from friends; what was stopping me? Unbelievable willpower because I’d made that
vow and didn’t want to let others down.
In February, at my Complex Needs final assessment, the
therapist said “in group we’ll work towards stopping you self-harming”.
Self-harm was my “secret”, if there’s one thing I’ve felt ashamed about being
unwell over the last 10 years, it’s the huge hold self-harm had over my life. I
had no intention of ever discussing it in a group. How could I sit there and
say “I deserve the pain, but I no longer know why” and “healed scars make me
want new open cuts”? After that appointment, I told myself that the night
before would be the last time I ever hurt myself. 121 days later and I’m still
going. The urges appear once in a while, but I know I’ll never go back.
In this time, I have quit work due to bullying, gone through
multiple interviews for an internship at my church and said goodbye to two good
friends who are moving away. And I haven’t slipped once. My previous go-to
method to cope with changes was to overdose, especially if involved saying
goodbye to people. If I try to kill myself, they won’t leave, right? Last week
that thought didn’t even cross my mind.
But actually what really made me consider my progress was
the fact that I registered with a GP surgery and saw a doctor within 3 weeks of
moving to this area. This time last year, it took over 3 months for me to even
register, let alone see a GP. The fear of admitting to someone new that I was
weak, vulnerable, needed medication was overwhelming. This time I knew I needed
to stay stable. This time I knew medication is vital to keep me going. This
time I want to keep myself well, to not slip back in to old habits, to keep
fighting.
This battle hasn’t been easy in the slightest. I don’t win
about 5% of the time, but 95% of the time I do. Day after day I wake up and
have to choose again to fight. I have to choose to follow Jesus and not take an
easier route. I have to choose life every single day. But it’s worth it: to
have amazing memories; to have wonderful friends who well up when you tell them
milestones; to have certainty that whatever happens God has a plan; to know
that you aren’t alone in the fight; to live, because living is what we were
created for.
This day I call the
heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life
and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children
may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice, and hold
fast to him. For the Lord is your life, and he will give you many years in the
land he swore to give to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
Deuteronomy 30 v19-20
Monday 1 June 2015
Home
I'm sat on my bed, snuggled in my duvet, listening to worship music, and surveying the chaos that my bedroom has become. There is stuff EVERYWHERE. You see, at the end of this week I'm moving house. However I'm not moving house in the conventional sense. I am about to become homeless.
Since leaving my job in March, I haven't been working. To begin with I simply was not well enough. I'm not convinced I'm 100% well enough to be back at work full time or in a high stress environment so have been filling my time with volunteering. Unfortunately volunteering does not bring in an income and because I left my job willingly, I have not been able to claim any benefits. In addition, I thought I'd check out if I would be entitled to housing benefit- because something is better than nothing, right? As has been the story of my life- I am entitled to the bare minimum of housing benefits. £17 a week. Joy! It's similar to the NHS trying to tell me my bursary at uni was £96 a month when my rent was £119 A WEEK.
So yes, I'm moving out of my beautiful house and on to the sofa bed of a dear friend of mine. I have been utterly blessed to have her in my life and I just cannot fathom how much more challenging this would be without her!
Anyway, I should probably get to the point of why I'm typing this. Home. What makes us call somewhere "home"? Yes, I have somewhere to live. Yes, I could live back with my parents. Would I call those places home? Probably not, other than out of habit.
There are lots of cheesy statements relating to what makes a house a home. I don't have to scroll very far down my Instagram or Pinterest feeds to find examples of these. I'm not however sure that I agree with them though. Currently my house is decorated in a very "me" way. While I cannot paint the walls, I have fairy lights hanging, pictures, cute little decorations and Bible verses everywhere. Things that people look at and think "Becca lives here". I don't think, however, that me living in this house, makes it my home. I am taking everything with me- I can put all these things around elsewhere to show people where I live, that doesn't mean I feel at home.
A friend recently went back to her home town for a family wedding. She's very against moving back there when her visa here runs out, but knows she would be able to tolerate it purely because she is surrounded by people who love her, as she is here also. I am inclined to agree. It isn't the building. It isn't the decorations. It's the people who make home feel like home. I know moving back in with my parents won't feel like home. I have 3 very wonderful friends there and I have family there but it's not the same. Here, in this county, I have a support system, I have a church family, I have the best friends and it's familiar. I've lived around here almost 5 years now. The longest I've stayed in one area by choice. I remember walking in to my church back at the end of August 2013 and feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging. No matter how I'm feeling, church is a safe place. It's familiar. It's comforting. I belong.
While I am moving house, I am certainly not leaving home. I will not be homeless, but houseless. My home surrounds me because of the love that is poured out from all the aforementioned sources. It isn't going to be easy not officially having a house, but I know wherever I go, I'll be able to find home. And for that I am thankful.
Since leaving my job in March, I haven't been working. To begin with I simply was not well enough. I'm not convinced I'm 100% well enough to be back at work full time or in a high stress environment so have been filling my time with volunteering. Unfortunately volunteering does not bring in an income and because I left my job willingly, I have not been able to claim any benefits. In addition, I thought I'd check out if I would be entitled to housing benefit- because something is better than nothing, right? As has been the story of my life- I am entitled to the bare minimum of housing benefits. £17 a week. Joy! It's similar to the NHS trying to tell me my bursary at uni was £96 a month when my rent was £119 A WEEK.
So yes, I'm moving out of my beautiful house and on to the sofa bed of a dear friend of mine. I have been utterly blessed to have her in my life and I just cannot fathom how much more challenging this would be without her!
Anyway, I should probably get to the point of why I'm typing this. Home. What makes us call somewhere "home"? Yes, I have somewhere to live. Yes, I could live back with my parents. Would I call those places home? Probably not, other than out of habit.
There are lots of cheesy statements relating to what makes a house a home. I don't have to scroll very far down my Instagram or Pinterest feeds to find examples of these. I'm not however sure that I agree with them though. Currently my house is decorated in a very "me" way. While I cannot paint the walls, I have fairy lights hanging, pictures, cute little decorations and Bible verses everywhere. Things that people look at and think "Becca lives here". I don't think, however, that me living in this house, makes it my home. I am taking everything with me- I can put all these things around elsewhere to show people where I live, that doesn't mean I feel at home.
A friend recently went back to her home town for a family wedding. She's very against moving back there when her visa here runs out, but knows she would be able to tolerate it purely because she is surrounded by people who love her, as she is here also. I am inclined to agree. It isn't the building. It isn't the decorations. It's the people who make home feel like home. I know moving back in with my parents won't feel like home. I have 3 very wonderful friends there and I have family there but it's not the same. Here, in this county, I have a support system, I have a church family, I have the best friends and it's familiar. I've lived around here almost 5 years now. The longest I've stayed in one area by choice. I remember walking in to my church back at the end of August 2013 and feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging. No matter how I'm feeling, church is a safe place. It's familiar. It's comforting. I belong.
While I am moving house, I am certainly not leaving home. I will not be homeless, but houseless. My home surrounds me because of the love that is poured out from all the aforementioned sources. It isn't going to be easy not officially having a house, but I know wherever I go, I'll be able to find home. And for that I am thankful.
Wednesday 20 May 2015
Wednesday Afternoon Ramblings- Patience
In 2 weeks and 3 days I will be homeless. Depending on the time of day and who I'm speaking to depends on how I'm feeling about this, it flips between terrified and excited. Whatever I'm feeling, it is a MASSIVE trust exercise for me.
God provides for all our needs. Ask and you will receive. Trust God. There are countless verses to tell you those things. There are countless times a week my friends and acquaintances tell me these things. If I were to tell you I am 100% convinced that God will provide me with somewhere in Oxfordshire to live rent-free in the next 2 weeks for as long as I need I would be lying. Most of the time, this is my belief, but sometimes I doubt. And that's ok. Matthew 28:17 says "When they saw Him, they worshipped Him; but some doubted". Despite worshipping Jesus, some still doubted that he was the Messiah. And while I don't doubt Jesus is Lord, I do sometimes worry that He won't provide because I am some obscure exception; I've screwed up so much of my life, why would God provide for me this time?
What I really need to remember is that, while I'm freaking out worrying that I will be sofa-surfing for the foreseeable future, God is waiting for the right time to show the next step of His plan to me. My timing and His doesn't line up. I'm impatient, and always have been. I want things sorted yesterday. God gives just as the need presents. Same for my employment circumstances. Someone told me today you have to push one door at a time to see what opens. And she's right. If more than one door opened, how difficult would that decision be? How easily I could be led down the wrong path.
The world rushes past. We live in such a driven society where everything must be available at the click of a button. We no longer have to wait for anything we want, even when we don't need it. I know the more I immerse myself in that world, the faster my mental health declines. I become too driven and perfectionist. But take me out of that world, let me do things at the pace that is right for me, where I wait for God to provide; everything is easier. I'm not chasing after false idols. I'm focused on God because there's no other way to do it. The more I'm worrying about housing and employment, the more entangled I get in the mess that is my mind.
Live in the moment. Wait on God.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Psalm 23:1-3
Tuesday 12 May 2015
What the darkness feels like...
This week is Mental Health Awareness Week and I felt like I needed to blog on this topic. It's a challenge as I'm just coming out of two very dark weeks in which relapse seems guaranteed. Thankfully that isn't the case and I'm fighting on. This is the first time in so long that I have managed to maintain the determination to want to get better even when I had no energy to fight the thoughts.
I figured it would be good to document what depression really feels like for me on a day when I have to do something. If nothing else, it'll remind me when I'm doing ok, just what was going through my head before and how much better it is now.
Alarm goes off. Wake up. The world is a haze. Imagine you went out drinking last night. You have no recollection of the evening and your head feels thick. You might have a headache. Sitting up will feel impossible so you lie there. You drift back off to sleep. Another alarm goes off. You prepared because falling asleep again is so common. The haze is a little less this time. Maybe, just maybe, you can roll over. You lie there. What are you going to wear today? It won't be what you optimistically laid out last night. You'll hate yourself in that. And the other outfits you think of. You choose the lesser of the evils. A final alarm goes off. The one that tells you you have absolutely no more time to lie in bed. You fall out of bed and head towards the clothes you've decided on. If you're lucky, you'll find the socks and pants you have for seriously bad days. It'll make the rest of getting dressed easier. You'll probably put something on backwards/inside out. You'll realise around lunch time. As soon as the last item of clothing is on, you'll run down the stairs and out the door. It won't be until you'll driving you realise you forgot to pee, brush your teeth, put on deodorant and brush your hair, let alone eat breakfast. You have gum and a hairbrush in the car so you can half solve two of those issues.
Depending on where you're going depends on the next bit. You get to your destination and power walk from the car, because you cannot deal with being evena second late. If it's people you trust, you'll tell them honestly today is a bad day and try and keep your head down. If it's therapy, you'll lie or skirt around the truth. You make polite conversation that you won't remember in 20 minutes. If it's people that know you well, you may permit them to hug you. You'll only cry if they ask you a question. Finally you'll remember you need to pee. You'll body check in all the mirrors, before and after, just in case your body has changed. At lunch time you'll wander round the supermarkets- you need to find lunch. You're taking forever because decisions are hard. You'll settle on a bag of popcorn and a pastry. You're desperate to have a bottle of juice- especially orange. You'll ignore the fact you're allergic to it, just so you have an excuse to feel bad later. Grab a coffee. Give in to the cakes on the counter. Somehow almost 2 hours pass. You have no idea what happened in that time. Maybe you'll remember after your last sip you forgot to take your meds this morning- the app only reminds you for so many hours.
When all activities for the day are done, you go home. PJs are the first thing. Once you get up the stairs. You can lay on the stairs for up to an hour. Lying there feels safe and you're grounded. Moving makes your brain fog increase. Eventually PJs will be put on- if it's a mega bad day, then you get to wear clean PJs. You might go back downstairs and pretend to watch TV. IT's safest to watch a DVD as you can rewatch when you're feeling better. Eventually you'll think maybe dinner is an idea. You can reach the freezer and the oven from the sofa. If that's too hard, you'll eat toast off of kitchen roll. The thought of washing up hurts your brain. You may have to text a worried friend. If they're really worried, they'll suggest you stay at theirs or they invade your house for the evening. You'll secretly be thankful but it's just too much energy.
Eventually you'll go to bed. Brushing your teeth won't happen. You put on some music in the hope you can get lost in it. Sometimes you'll fall asleep fast. Sometimes it can take hours. If it's a good night, you'll fall asleep and won't dream. On other nights you'll have vivid bad dreams that leave you disorientated the next morning.
The entire day your brain will berate you. Your negative thoughts will overpower every useful idea. You'll be too tired to fight the negativity. All day there will be a battle raging, which will lead to more berating of yourself because you're having stupid thoughts.
But you get up and do it all again the next day. Because that is what everyone expects of you.
I figured it would be good to document what depression really feels like for me on a day when I have to do something. If nothing else, it'll remind me when I'm doing ok, just what was going through my head before and how much better it is now.
Alarm goes off. Wake up. The world is a haze. Imagine you went out drinking last night. You have no recollection of the evening and your head feels thick. You might have a headache. Sitting up will feel impossible so you lie there. You drift back off to sleep. Another alarm goes off. You prepared because falling asleep again is so common. The haze is a little less this time. Maybe, just maybe, you can roll over. You lie there. What are you going to wear today? It won't be what you optimistically laid out last night. You'll hate yourself in that. And the other outfits you think of. You choose the lesser of the evils. A final alarm goes off. The one that tells you you have absolutely no more time to lie in bed. You fall out of bed and head towards the clothes you've decided on. If you're lucky, you'll find the socks and pants you have for seriously bad days. It'll make the rest of getting dressed easier. You'll probably put something on backwards/inside out. You'll realise around lunch time. As soon as the last item of clothing is on, you'll run down the stairs and out the door. It won't be until you'll driving you realise you forgot to pee, brush your teeth, put on deodorant and brush your hair, let alone eat breakfast. You have gum and a hairbrush in the car so you can half solve two of those issues.
Depending on where you're going depends on the next bit. You get to your destination and power walk from the car, because you cannot deal with being evena second late. If it's people you trust, you'll tell them honestly today is a bad day and try and keep your head down. If it's therapy, you'll lie or skirt around the truth. You make polite conversation that you won't remember in 20 minutes. If it's people that know you well, you may permit them to hug you. You'll only cry if they ask you a question. Finally you'll remember you need to pee. You'll body check in all the mirrors, before and after, just in case your body has changed. At lunch time you'll wander round the supermarkets- you need to find lunch. You're taking forever because decisions are hard. You'll settle on a bag of popcorn and a pastry. You're desperate to have a bottle of juice- especially orange. You'll ignore the fact you're allergic to it, just so you have an excuse to feel bad later. Grab a coffee. Give in to the cakes on the counter. Somehow almost 2 hours pass. You have no idea what happened in that time. Maybe you'll remember after your last sip you forgot to take your meds this morning- the app only reminds you for so many hours.
When all activities for the day are done, you go home. PJs are the first thing. Once you get up the stairs. You can lay on the stairs for up to an hour. Lying there feels safe and you're grounded. Moving makes your brain fog increase. Eventually PJs will be put on- if it's a mega bad day, then you get to wear clean PJs. You might go back downstairs and pretend to watch TV. IT's safest to watch a DVD as you can rewatch when you're feeling better. Eventually you'll think maybe dinner is an idea. You can reach the freezer and the oven from the sofa. If that's too hard, you'll eat toast off of kitchen roll. The thought of washing up hurts your brain. You may have to text a worried friend. If they're really worried, they'll suggest you stay at theirs or they invade your house for the evening. You'll secretly be thankful but it's just too much energy.
Eventually you'll go to bed. Brushing your teeth won't happen. You put on some music in the hope you can get lost in it. Sometimes you'll fall asleep fast. Sometimes it can take hours. If it's a good night, you'll fall asleep and won't dream. On other nights you'll have vivid bad dreams that leave you disorientated the next morning.
The entire day your brain will berate you. Your negative thoughts will overpower every useful idea. You'll be too tired to fight the negativity. All day there will be a battle raging, which will lead to more berating of yourself because you're having stupid thoughts.
But you get up and do it all again the next day. Because that is what everyone expects of you.
Thursday 30 April 2015
How Becca copes with disappointment...
Yesterday afternoon I had an email telling me that I am not able to go back to camp this summer. I am not 6 months medication-free and they do not have enough returner visas that it is unlikely that I will get one therefore they have terminated my application. These reasons are frustrating- they would have known both these things 3 weeks ago and yet made me collect a ton of evidence to say I'm well enough and dragged it out this long to still tell me that I can't go because of things they knew about when I submitted my application.
Mere months ago I would have cried as I read the email and for hours after, hit my self destruct button and done everything in my power to punish myself/prove I obviously am not well enough. I wouldn't shower for days because I don't deserve the self care. I probably would have stopped taking my medication because it "wasn't working" and would land myself back seeing my GP begging for a CMHT referral.
Yesterday I held it together in the Parish Centre when I read the email. Went and sat in a coffee shop, my friend arrived and I cried for all of 5 minutes. Then I went and had dinner with friends, told them I couldn't get a visa in time without crying, and genuinely enjoyed time with amazing people. I cried a bit at the church prayer meeting. Then I came home and slept like a baby.
Today I have moped and binge watched Gilmore Girls. I have eaten normally, left the house to get a coffee, and had a perfectly rational conversation with my mother on the phone. I have also finally got back in to my Bible study. I'm planning to wash my hair tonight.
Tomorrow I will spend my day tidying, sorting laundry and then going for cocktails with friends in the evening. I have to be sensible and not drink too much because I'm pretty sure it'll make me feel awful on Saturday but I'm prepared for that.
And next week will continue as normal. Because this wasn't part of God's plan for me. There are better things in store for the summer- concerts with friends, weekends away, random job opportunities, volunteering, happiness.
Many are the plans in a person's heart,
but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails.
Proverbs 21:19
Mere months ago I would have cried as I read the email and for hours after, hit my self destruct button and done everything in my power to punish myself/prove I obviously am not well enough. I wouldn't shower for days because I don't deserve the self care. I probably would have stopped taking my medication because it "wasn't working" and would land myself back seeing my GP begging for a CMHT referral.
Yesterday I held it together in the Parish Centre when I read the email. Went and sat in a coffee shop, my friend arrived and I cried for all of 5 minutes. Then I went and had dinner with friends, told them I couldn't get a visa in time without crying, and genuinely enjoyed time with amazing people. I cried a bit at the church prayer meeting. Then I came home and slept like a baby.
Today I have moped and binge watched Gilmore Girls. I have eaten normally, left the house to get a coffee, and had a perfectly rational conversation with my mother on the phone. I have also finally got back in to my Bible study. I'm planning to wash my hair tonight.
Tomorrow I will spend my day tidying, sorting laundry and then going for cocktails with friends in the evening. I have to be sensible and not drink too much because I'm pretty sure it'll make me feel awful on Saturday but I'm prepared for that.
And next week will continue as normal. Because this wasn't part of God's plan for me. There are better things in store for the summer- concerts with friends, weekends away, random job opportunities, volunteering, happiness.
Many are the plans in a person's heart,
but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails.
Proverbs 21:19
Sunday 26 April 2015
Moving forward
About a year ago I went to the late service at my church. I was a mess. I sat shaking the entire service, knowing that I was only there because I wasn't safe to go home. At one point, a woman said she had had a picture of someone being sat in a cell. The door was wide open but they didn't leave. They continued to sit there. It struck me that night, that that image was for me. I was sat in that cell. I knew that the door was open. I knew I could recover and yet there I was sat waiting for someone to pull me out of that cell. That was the first night I'd told anyone at church that I was suicidal and let them pray for me. I wanted everything to stop.
Last June I was baptised and someone prayed for me after and said the shackle had been opened but I had to take the step. I've prayed in to that image many times but still, the foot stayed.
I don't even know what I was praying about tonight in church but suddenly an image appeared in my head. There was an open shackle and several feet away was myself, walking away from that shackle. Tonight I finally knew freedom. I know that it doesn't mean the troubles are over. I know that I could easily turn around and run back to what I know to be safe. But right now I'm moving forward. I'm praying that I leave that awful chain behind. Recovery is happening. I am stronger and more determined and I will keep going. With God's strength, I can win.
He brought them out of the darkness, the utter darkness, and broke away their chains.
Psalm 107:14
Last June I was baptised and someone prayed for me after and said the shackle had been opened but I had to take the step. I've prayed in to that image many times but still, the foot stayed.
I don't even know what I was praying about tonight in church but suddenly an image appeared in my head. There was an open shackle and several feet away was myself, walking away from that shackle. Tonight I finally knew freedom. I know that it doesn't mean the troubles are over. I know that I could easily turn around and run back to what I know to be safe. But right now I'm moving forward. I'm praying that I leave that awful chain behind. Recovery is happening. I am stronger and more determined and I will keep going. With God's strength, I can win.
He brought them out of the darkness, the utter darkness, and broke away their chains.
Psalm 107:14
Friday 10 April 2015
Lent Experiments
The season of Lent has always been about fasting- I spent most of my childhood giving up chocolate or meat and being all "I do it because Jesus fasted for 40 days in the desert".
This year Lent took on a different meaning for me. Yes, I gave up buying coffee from chain coffee shops (yes I survived Lent with no Starbucks!) but this year I had different reasons. I want to be more conscious of where my money goes. Not necessarily in the sense of how much I'm spending (although I do need to reign that in) but actually why am I spending money in places that evade taxes and ignoring the local businesses that are much more ethically minded?
I won't lie- I have never cared previously about where things have come from and whether workers are treated fairly. I don't buy only fair trade, I buy things regardless of whether it is local produce or not, I still fly places. But I want that to change. I want to be more aware of what I'm supporting, good and bad, and try to minimise the unethical behaviours I am funding. While I may not be passionate about it, I know I need to change and I want to. I am a privileged white girl living in a first world country but that doesn't mean I should flaunt my background- everyone deserves a chance at a good quality of life and if I can do a little bit to make a difference I will. God gave us this earth to look after and I need to do my bit.
I was part of a community carrying out experiments of discipleship over the Lent period this year. We chose three goals, relating to different parts of our lives in which to change things. We didn't necessarily do the same things, nor did we all give up things.
I took up turning my phone off when I was around friends. I need to be more present in life and not live through technology. This was largely successful however I realised just who I feel safe around and who the anxiety is too great around and in those situations I at least wasn't holding on to my phone the entire time, but it was switched on *just in case*. It's hard, but I'm getting there. I would like to develop this in to only accessing the internet for 3 hours a day. It will take some work, but I will get there.
I also tried to regulate my sleep cycle so I get up in the mornings and follow the structure of my day. This hasn't really worked in any way. Taking meds, not taking meds, lying in bed endlessly for hours, making sure I exercise in the day; nothing has enabled me to sleep at a similar time every night. I need to work on this as I cannot continue with such an obscure sleeping pattern. I also really want to get up early enough to read my Bible every morning. I will get there. It just takes a bit longer than Lent!
I must say though, having a group of us holding each other accountable has really helped! I always had in my mind that accountability groups were for people who had really bad issues and needed help turning away from them but actually they work for the day to day things too!
I'm going to set goals more frequently, and make sure I have other people supporting me when doing so. I will change things and I will get back in to a positive mind frame because other things fall in to place.
I'm so thankful for opportunities like this that remind me that no-one has the perfect life and we can all strive to make changes and it is ok to fail or not get there as quickly as expected. It's ok. It's trying that is important.
This year Lent took on a different meaning for me. Yes, I gave up buying coffee from chain coffee shops (yes I survived Lent with no Starbucks!) but this year I had different reasons. I want to be more conscious of where my money goes. Not necessarily in the sense of how much I'm spending (although I do need to reign that in) but actually why am I spending money in places that evade taxes and ignoring the local businesses that are much more ethically minded?
I won't lie- I have never cared previously about where things have come from and whether workers are treated fairly. I don't buy only fair trade, I buy things regardless of whether it is local produce or not, I still fly places. But I want that to change. I want to be more aware of what I'm supporting, good and bad, and try to minimise the unethical behaviours I am funding. While I may not be passionate about it, I know I need to change and I want to. I am a privileged white girl living in a first world country but that doesn't mean I should flaunt my background- everyone deserves a chance at a good quality of life and if I can do a little bit to make a difference I will. God gave us this earth to look after and I need to do my bit.
I was part of a community carrying out experiments of discipleship over the Lent period this year. We chose three goals, relating to different parts of our lives in which to change things. We didn't necessarily do the same things, nor did we all give up things.
I took up turning my phone off when I was around friends. I need to be more present in life and not live through technology. This was largely successful however I realised just who I feel safe around and who the anxiety is too great around and in those situations I at least wasn't holding on to my phone the entire time, but it was switched on *just in case*. It's hard, but I'm getting there. I would like to develop this in to only accessing the internet for 3 hours a day. It will take some work, but I will get there.
I also tried to regulate my sleep cycle so I get up in the mornings and follow the structure of my day. This hasn't really worked in any way. Taking meds, not taking meds, lying in bed endlessly for hours, making sure I exercise in the day; nothing has enabled me to sleep at a similar time every night. I need to work on this as I cannot continue with such an obscure sleeping pattern. I also really want to get up early enough to read my Bible every morning. I will get there. It just takes a bit longer than Lent!
I must say though, having a group of us holding each other accountable has really helped! I always had in my mind that accountability groups were for people who had really bad issues and needed help turning away from them but actually they work for the day to day things too!
I'm going to set goals more frequently, and make sure I have other people supporting me when doing so. I will change things and I will get back in to a positive mind frame because other things fall in to place.
I'm so thankful for opportunities like this that remind me that no-one has the perfect life and we can all strive to make changes and it is ok to fail or not get there as quickly as expected. It's ok. It's trying that is important.
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