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.

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. 

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 :(

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:

"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

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.

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

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.