As of late, I've been contemplating surrender. Or rather, what it means to surrender. What it feels like to surrender. What surrender costs. What it would cost not to surrender.
To too many people, the concept of surrender is distorted by images of waving white flags. It is associated with negative terms like coward, weak, defeat. But the kind of surrender I am talking about brings about strength and security. This kind of surrender requires discipline, courage, and trust. So much trust.
Losing control. Handing over the reins. Having faith. Sacrificing your life. Surrendering to God. They are one in the same.
I find that I am reluctant to let go of my plans, of my desires. I ponder what that says about my beliefs. Am I saying that I know better than God does? By holding onto the things of this world so tightly, am I telling God that He doesn't know what He's talking about? Am I implying that He's not as important as those things I hold so dear?
At lunch a few weeks ago, I went to the Missionary Baptist Student Fellowship for their Food for Thought program. The speaker told a story about a little girl and her father. The little girl got one of those plastic rings out of a machine at the front of the grocery store. She loved that ring. She showed it off to everyone she met. After a few months, her father came to her and said, "Sweetie, that's a beautiful ring. Would you give it to me?" "Oh no, daddy," she replied. "I love it so much." Time went on and every once in a while, the father would repeat his question. "Honey, would you give me your ring?" Each time the reply was the same. One day though, when the girl was about twelve, the father asked his question again. This time the girl gave him the ring. Her father grinned as he pulled a box out of his pocket and gave her a beautiful gold ring.
The moral of the story was that if we give God the things we're reluctant to let go of, he will put something else in our lives that will exceed the plans we had. Another illustration the speaker used that I love had to do with our fist. Imagine that all the things of this world are in the palm of your hand. Now imagine that you close your hand over them, so that nobody else can reach in and grab them. What is that saying to God? But imagine that you are holding all those things in an open hand. Now what are you saying to God?
I have to remind myself all the time to hold stuff in an open hand, not to say, "God, this is too important to me. You can't have it." Instead, I make myself say, "this was never mine in the first place. You can have it back if you want it." Usually I'm crying during this process, but I know how right it is.
I will not successfully fight my own battles, plan my own marriage, impress enough people, push through my own obstacles, or heal my own wounds. Only God can do that. This is something I fight every day to realize and apply to my life. I'd like to share with you a prayer I wrote to help me achieve the mindset that I desire.
Father, I'm holding all the things of my life in an open hand. My plans, my relationships, my possessions. They are all Yours to do with as You wish. I'm giving You myself. I'm surrendering my heart. My talents, my skills, my body, I'm committing to Your purpose. Take them and use them however You'd like. I'm opening myself up to be used in ways that will be uncomfortable, but I realize that that doesn't matter. Your service is what matters most, my God. I offer up all that I am. I give You everything because You gave it all to me in the first place. I don't want to be held back by selfishness and shallow desires. I'm not going to worry about what others think of me or what I can gain. I'm going to live for You. I long to be a person who lives her life in constant awe of You. So I am trusting You to guide my life better than I could, lead my relationships better than I could, and give me the things I need whether they be all I want or not. Teach me to fear You. For this I pray in Jesus name. Amen.
February 28, 2009
February 24, 2009
Oh to be free!
I had a productive therapy session today. Although, I must say it was unorthodox. My counselor and I discussed my anger issues. Or rather, she pointed out that I don't allow myself to get angry, which can be just as damaging as the opposite extreme.
It was really cathartic to sort through all my stuff. My counselor told me to get in touch with the pain from my childhood. That's scary. Letting yourself be lost to your emotions is not something that comes naturally. We all want to maintain that control.
She had me imagine my dad was sitting in the chair across from me. Then she told me to tell him everything I had ever wanted to say to him, to let myself be angry.
I had never realized the extent to which I esteemed my father. I was afraid to be angry with him. I didn't feel like I had the right. Even more than that, I have a fear of telling people what I think or feel. So vocalizing my anger was doubly hard.
Hot tears began to spill down my face as I felt the anger, the hurt of a little girl who loved her daddy but had been disappointed and lied to.
"You hurt me. You should have been there, but you weren't. When you said you'd be there and you never showed up, when you didn't call for a year, I wanted to hate you. I shouldn't have had to feel like that. You were irresponsible and childish. You should have acted like my dad. You made me think it was my fault. But it's not my fault. It's not my fault," I sobbed, repeatedly beating the chair with a pillow off the couch.
I can't tell you how liberating it was to allow myself to think those things, to put the blame where it belongs. I had to admit to myself that my father was a sorry loser. I had to allow myself to think he was a lousy person and a good-for-nothing father. I had to realize all this and internalize it to clear up the clutter. It was this clutter that had been preventing me from internalizing all the good stuff. People would tell me I was good enough, that I was lovable, that there was nothing wrong with me. But I wouldn't believe them. Because inside, to some degree, I still wanted to believe my dad was the good guy in everything.
Now that that matter is cleared up, I feel somewhat freed, like I've been weighted down and all of a sudden I can fly again. I feel so loved by my Heavenly Father right now. He is lifting my burdens one by one and I'm seeing more each day how He's working in my life.
This has been a big step in forgiving my dad. Forgiveness is not justifying what he did or saying that it doesn't matter. Rather, it is the acknowledgment that I have no control over what he or anyone else does. Forgiveness is being able to say, "you were a jerk. But I'm not going to allow that to determine my life." Forgiveness is an acceptance of someone's actions. Not an admission that those actions were acceptable, but a realization that you have no control over them. Forgiveness sets you free. It means that nothing else holds sway over you. It means that there are things you cannot control, but that you have the power to choose what you make of those things. Forgiveness means that once more you are in control of your life.
It was really cathartic to sort through all my stuff. My counselor told me to get in touch with the pain from my childhood. That's scary. Letting yourself be lost to your emotions is not something that comes naturally. We all want to maintain that control.
She had me imagine my dad was sitting in the chair across from me. Then she told me to tell him everything I had ever wanted to say to him, to let myself be angry.
I had never realized the extent to which I esteemed my father. I was afraid to be angry with him. I didn't feel like I had the right. Even more than that, I have a fear of telling people what I think or feel. So vocalizing my anger was doubly hard.
Hot tears began to spill down my face as I felt the anger, the hurt of a little girl who loved her daddy but had been disappointed and lied to.
"You hurt me. You should have been there, but you weren't. When you said you'd be there and you never showed up, when you didn't call for a year, I wanted to hate you. I shouldn't have had to feel like that. You were irresponsible and childish. You should have acted like my dad. You made me think it was my fault. But it's not my fault. It's not my fault," I sobbed, repeatedly beating the chair with a pillow off the couch.
I can't tell you how liberating it was to allow myself to think those things, to put the blame where it belongs. I had to admit to myself that my father was a sorry loser. I had to allow myself to think he was a lousy person and a good-for-nothing father. I had to realize all this and internalize it to clear up the clutter. It was this clutter that had been preventing me from internalizing all the good stuff. People would tell me I was good enough, that I was lovable, that there was nothing wrong with me. But I wouldn't believe them. Because inside, to some degree, I still wanted to believe my dad was the good guy in everything.
Now that that matter is cleared up, I feel somewhat freed, like I've been weighted down and all of a sudden I can fly again. I feel so loved by my Heavenly Father right now. He is lifting my burdens one by one and I'm seeing more each day how He's working in my life.
This has been a big step in forgiving my dad. Forgiveness is not justifying what he did or saying that it doesn't matter. Rather, it is the acknowledgment that I have no control over what he or anyone else does. Forgiveness is being able to say, "you were a jerk. But I'm not going to allow that to determine my life." Forgiveness is an acceptance of someone's actions. Not an admission that those actions were acceptable, but a realization that you have no control over them. Forgiveness sets you free. It means that nothing else holds sway over you. It means that there are things you cannot control, but that you have the power to choose what you make of those things. Forgiveness means that once more you are in control of your life.
February 22, 2009
My Heart's Desire
I said I didn't need to be in a relationship. In retrospect, I was afraid. I know this now. But now it's too late. I was afraid. And in truth, I am still afraid. But I've realized that sometimes our fear must be ignored if we wish to live our lives fully.
I fear being known. I fear being abandoned. My tattered soul whispered that if I let you know me, you wouldn't like me; you would leave me. In my childhood, another man had left me. I reasoned that it was because he didn't like me, because I wasn't good enough. So I listened to the fear, fed the insecurity.
I said I didn't need to be in a relationship. I said I had issues that I needed to work on. I did. But we all do. What I really meant, what my heart was crying out, was that I didn't know how to be in a relationship. I didn't know how to take off the mask in front of someone else. Because in private, even when I was alone, I was ashamed to bare my soul. I never accepted myself, never loved who I was. I had bought into the lie that I had to be perfect to be lovable.
I fear being known. I fear being abandoned. I long to be loved. I long to share my love. In the end, my God-given need to exchange love is greater than my fear. Because now, I love and accept myself, flaws and all. Now I'm free to love. Now I'm free to create friendships and relationships; I will hold nothing back.
I said I didn't need to be in a relationship. What I meant to say, was that I wasn't ready. I don't need to be in a relationship. But I don't need to not be.
It's not up to me anymore. If you want me in your life, you'll find a way to put me there. But I know how God works. And I am patient.
I fear being known. I fear being abandoned. My tattered soul whispered that if I let you know me, you wouldn't like me; you would leave me. In my childhood, another man had left me. I reasoned that it was because he didn't like me, because I wasn't good enough. So I listened to the fear, fed the insecurity.
I said I didn't need to be in a relationship. I said I had issues that I needed to work on. I did. But we all do. What I really meant, what my heart was crying out, was that I didn't know how to be in a relationship. I didn't know how to take off the mask in front of someone else. Because in private, even when I was alone, I was ashamed to bare my soul. I never accepted myself, never loved who I was. I had bought into the lie that I had to be perfect to be lovable.
I fear being known. I fear being abandoned. I long to be loved. I long to share my love. In the end, my God-given need to exchange love is greater than my fear. Because now, I love and accept myself, flaws and all. Now I'm free to love. Now I'm free to create friendships and relationships; I will hold nothing back.
I said I didn't need to be in a relationship. What I meant to say, was that I wasn't ready. I don't need to be in a relationship. But I don't need to not be.
It's not up to me anymore. If you want me in your life, you'll find a way to put me there. But I know how God works. And I am patient.
Sleepless Musings
Friday, February 20
2:45 a.m.
I can't sleep. I had some crazy dreams about tattoos... and Seth. Not together, just dreams about both.
Gosh. I need to get over him. He visited me at Bridgeway Tuesday (the 17th) night. I avoided writing about it because I was letting some stuff stew around in my brain.
Tomasz read my journal entry where I wrote about how Seth is still not over his ex-girlfriend. He proceeded to lecture me on how I was just a rebound, just someone to replace her. I was so resistant to what he said. But now, I'm thinking there may be some truth to his words. I just don't know where to begin.
Bridgeway: Day 7
Thursday, February 19
6:47 a.m.
6:47 a.m.
There is no way I would be up this early under normal circumstances. No way. They drew some blood to check my lithium level and they had to catch me before I ate or went to the bathroom or anything. So. Here I am.
They're talking like I'll get to go home today. Hoorah! Oh, I'm so ready. So ready. There are about 4 people here who were here when I arrived. Everyone else has gone home. And a couple have come and gone since I've been here. It makes it feel lonely.
Thursday, February 19
8:29 p.m.
I'm home. Finally home. It's all so weird. everything feels so strange. It's like something unidentifiable, something intangible has changed. It's my hope that that "something" is me and that it is a change for the better. 6 days in the Bridgeway can't have been for nothing.
I had hoped to be able to come home and start over. By start over, I mean pretend like nothing had happened and start fresh. Unfortunately, that's not the way it works. My past mistakes will still follow me and I will deal with the consequences and results. That really sucks. It's going to make it so much harder to stay positive and not dwell on my shortcomings when I'll be reminded of them daily. My finances will be managed by my parents, I will be restricted to school and work, and I'm starting out with pretty much zero trust. It's hard not to victimize myself and I don't know what to do with all my anger.
Anger is a new emotion for me. Depression, now that's a typical response for me. But the sensation of being mad and not internalizing it to be mad at myself is something entirely new to me. I haven't experienced something like this in years. Anger without self-hatred, anger withough pain, anger that is healthy, albeit misguided.
Bridgeway: Day 6
Wednesday, February 18
12:10 p.m.
12:10 p.m.
So, I've been doing a whole lot of sleeping lately and not a lot of journaling. I'll catch you up and try to be more consistent with my writing from now on. Oh! group time... to be continued.
Wednesday, February 18
2:06 p.m.
In groups today, we talked about the difference in self-esteem and unconditional self-acceptance. Our therapist pointed out that we're all equal to 1. Not 1/2. Not 1 1/2. We're all worth 1. And suicide is like saying 1=0. Kinda profound, huh?
Anyway. the conversation went on to include how we perceive ourselves. People often create labels based on action. If we're not careful, we will confuse who we are with what we do or have. For example, I am not bipolar; I am a human being who has bipolar disorder.
I am not a failure.
I am a perfectly valuable human being.
I am lovable.
I am a precious soul created in the image of God; because I exist, I have worth.
I am not a failure.
I am a beautiful creature who is loved by the most high God.
I deserve to be loved.
I was designed to be just as I am.
I was designed to be me.
I am not a failure.
Bridgeway: Day 5
Tuesday, February 17
5:22 p.m.
Tomasz left yesterday. It's been hauntingly quiet since then. I know he's too old for me to date. That's not even the issue. He was my best friend here. I shared more with him than I have anyone else. I do miss him.
The whole family came last night. I was really tired, though, so I'm afraid I wasn't very conversational.
Jake was my new buddy after Tomasz and Mary and Gwen all left. He's a psych major so we had a lot in common. But he left today too. And they're telling me I won't leave til Thursday. Sigh.
Seth is supposedly actually coming tonight. I hope he makes it. I'm really looking forward to that. I'd be very disappointed. Again.
They didn't let us go up to the cafeteria for dinner tonight. They were short on staff. Phoo. I didn't eat much. And I'm out of money for the vending machine. Probably not good for me.
I've been in bed all day too. I started feeling like I was gonna pass out again, so they gave me some orange juice and sent me to bed.
Bridgeway: Day 4
Monday, February 16
7:09 p.m.
7:09 p.m.
I haven't written in a while. I know. Terrible me. But I'll catch you up. So, I got to go to the cafeteria for dinner last night. It was so phenomenal. I was all excited about my fork and knife. Then I was glad to see the sunset. The fresh air and momentary exercise were very welcome too. I was completely thankful for all the little things. I hope I don't lose that. The best part was that, for the first time since I've been here, I got full last night. Oh, it was amazing.
Anyway. So, I was expecting Seth to visit last night too. He called and his truck had broken down in Benton. That was really disappointing. I got depressed and went to bed.
Today was a sleepy day. Oh my goodness, I've been so tired. and cranky. Having to stay up when I'm that tired makes me really cranky.
February 20, 2009
Bridgeway: Day 3
Sunday, February 15th
8:03 a.m.
8:03 a.m.
Good morning, good morning! I slept well last night, thank goodness. Crying probably helped with that. I'm in a good mood this morning, but that's how it usually starts. I'm really hoping that my new medication does the trick. It would be so weird to not be up and down all the time. I noticed last night that being depressed made me feel better in a sense; it's my comfort zone; it's what I'm used to. But I would love to get used to being level. Oh, I would be so happy. People take it for granted. I hope I never will. I'm going to go back to sleep til group. I had a dream that Seth came. Still prayin he will.
Sunday, February 15th
11:30 a.m.
Agh. I am so sleepy. I can't stop yawning. But I am making myself stay up. I'm not going to lie in bed and make myself feel depressed. I feel great today, but there's some apprehension. I guess I'm just used to my moods changing so often that I'm just anticipating the next swing, be it high or low. With the grace of God, it will never come.
February 14, 2009
Bridgeway: Day 2
Saturday, February 14th
?
?
I swear it's 4:00 and I can't go back to sleep. I don't know what it is about this place that makes a person not able to sleep. Maybe it's the rock hard beds and useless pillows. Or maybe it's the simple knowledge that you're in a psychiatric facility that prevents restfulness. Whatever the reason, this is the worst I've rested since I can remember.
I had a dream last night. I'm sure I had many, but this one sticks out in my mind. Seth had come to visit me. The first thing he did was look around. Then he looked at me and said, "you don't belong here." It was a strange feeling, but I remember very vividly having a realization as I replied, "yes I do."
I am so ready to be better, to have this whole mess figured out and to be home, living a successful, passionate life again. You don't know how ready for that I am. In that same dream, I recall Seth commenting on how different I seemed. I pointed out that he had never seen me "normal". Apparently I had been given some miracle drug that stabilized my moods and did everything I could possibly want it to. But I can't help thinking that I probably wouldn't recognize myself normal. Rather than concerning me, however, this excites me. I so greatly dislike who I am now, that such a drastic change would surely be welcome. Is it strange, then, for me to hope that I'm bipolar?
OMG. This is ridiculous. I just asked the nurse on rounds what time it is. Guess. Just guess. 3:30. Agh. I'm hungry, wide-awake, and ready to meet my psychiatrist. Grr. Not cool. Definitely not cool. Ah well. Maybe now with some of those thoughts out of my head, I'll be able to sleep.
I had a dream last night. I'm sure I had many, but this one sticks out in my mind. Seth had come to visit me. The first thing he did was look around. Then he looked at me and said, "you don't belong here." It was a strange feeling, but I remember very vividly having a realization as I replied, "yes I do."
I am so ready to be better, to have this whole mess figured out and to be home, living a successful, passionate life again. You don't know how ready for that I am. In that same dream, I recall Seth commenting on how different I seemed. I pointed out that he had never seen me "normal". Apparently I had been given some miracle drug that stabilized my moods and did everything I could possibly want it to. But I can't help thinking that I probably wouldn't recognize myself normal. Rather than concerning me, however, this excites me. I so greatly dislike who I am now, that such a drastic change would surely be welcome. Is it strange, then, for me to hope that I'm bipolar?
OMG. This is ridiculous. I just asked the nurse on rounds what time it is. Guess. Just guess. 3:30. Agh. I'm hungry, wide-awake, and ready to meet my psychiatrist. Grr. Not cool. Definitely not cool. Ah well. Maybe now with some of those thoughts out of my head, I'll be able to sleep.
Saturday, February 14th
8:30 a.m.
8:30 a.m.
No such luck. I got up and got something to eat because my stomach was hurting. Then I sat in the Day Room until 5, at which point I began to feel ill. I informed the nurses that I was nauseous and a little dizzy. The next few seconds were a blur. I said, " I think I'm going to pass out," leaned against the counter and slid to the floor. Fun stuff, let me tell you.
They checked my blood sugar and said I was good. So, I don't know what that was all about. But I went back to sleep until 8, when I had to have my vitals checked.
I hope Mama comes to visit today. I'm gonna call Seth and see if he'll come up tomorrow. I just want a familiar face, maybe someone to give me a hug. I feel so lost here. I feel... like I'm not feeling anything. I'm not depressed; I'm not having any compulsive urges; I'm completely numb. I am having a little bit of anxiety, since I haven't seen my doctor yet. But it's like I've put myself on defense. I'm not comfortable here, so I'm in survival mode.
They checked my blood sugar and said I was good. So, I don't know what that was all about. But I went back to sleep until 8, when I had to have my vitals checked.
I hope Mama comes to visit today. I'm gonna call Seth and see if he'll come up tomorrow. I just want a familiar face, maybe someone to give me a hug. I feel so lost here. I feel... like I'm not feeling anything. I'm not depressed; I'm not having any compulsive urges; I'm completely numb. I am having a little bit of anxiety, since I haven't seen my doctor yet. But it's like I've put myself on defense. I'm not comfortable here, so I'm in survival mode.
Saturday, February 14th
11:15 a.m.
11:15 a.m.
I had my first group therapy session earlier. I actually enjoyed it, which was surprising to me. I still feel like it would be better to have small group sessions, but what do I know? The therapist guy said that some people complain that there is no individual counseling. I was like, "yeah." But he said that he thought some of the best therapy goes on in the Day Room, between the patients.
This, I think, may be the key. If you want something out of this experience, all you've got to do is put something into it. Most of us here just want someone to listen to our story and not judge. You can talk to anyone about your problems here and immediately, there's a connection. They just take what you're saying at face value and don't think less of you for it. I wish real life were like that.
Another thing asked in group was the question: If you were a survivior of a plane crash, what resolution would you make to change your life? I said that I would appreciate every day I was given. I think then I would live my life passionately, the way life should be lived. The purpose of this question was to compare that second chance to our experience here at Bridgeway. I guess that's something I hadn't considered. This is an opportunity.
This, I think, may be the key. If you want something out of this experience, all you've got to do is put something into it. Most of us here just want someone to listen to our story and not judge. You can talk to anyone about your problems here and immediately, there's a connection. They just take what you're saying at face value and don't think less of you for it. I wish real life were like that.
Another thing asked in group was the question: If you were a survivior of a plane crash, what resolution would you make to change your life? I said that I would appreciate every day I was given. I think then I would live my life passionately, the way life should be lived. The purpose of this question was to compare that second chance to our experience here at Bridgeway. I guess that's something I hadn't considered. This is an opportunity.
Saturday, February 14th
8:00 p.m.
8:00 p.m.
I haven't written since this morning, so I have a lot of ground to cover. Mama, Grams, and my sister Becca came to visit at lunch. It was a really good thing for me.
After they left, I started getting really anxious. I've had a rash on my back since last night and I think it's the nerves. I felt like I needed to be doing something even though I was putting together a puzzle. But it's like that wasn't enough.
Finally, they called me in to talk to the psychosocial analyst lady. I had been talking a lot, but man, when I got in there, it was crazy. I had to go get a bottle of water because my mouth was getting dry.
Immediately after, I was able to speak with the on-call doctor. I did the same thing. In his words, I "came in, started talking, and didn't shut up." After that, I didn't quite feel relieved, just tired and with a headache. His diagnosis was bipolar disorder and he says he doesn't think I have ADHD at all. I start my new medication tomorrow. I'm a little bit anxious, but also very excited.
Jesse came to see me, which was a complete surprise. He and I go to church together. It was nice to see a familiar face and to know that somebody cared. I needed that. I let him read what I'd written in my journal and asked if he had any questions. Poor thing, I think he was still in shock. He never saw it coming. And he actually workes in the psych ward of a hospital!
I asked him to call Seth for me. I had left Seth a message this morning, asked Becca to text him, and was anxious for him to call back. He called not long after Jesse left, which was also unexpected. It made my day though. I asked him to come visit tomorrow. I so hope he will.
I have this gnawing fear though, stemming from my insecurity, that he will be turned away by my condition. I am so afraid that he will confirm my suspicion that I am unlovable. But surely he will come. Surely we have built enough of a friendship to withstand this. Surely. So I hope.
I expressed to Tomasz my belief that I am unlovable. He was so patient with me. He wrote 5 affirmations to help me think positively then he made me list my strengths. It's hard to tell yourself you have good qualities when you've convinced yourself you're a failure with no worth. But I think it has helped to have someone who believes in me.
Tomasz and I exchanged books and I promised to help him make a list tomorrow. He also reminded me of my promise to teach him to read music. All for tomorrow. I am praying for God's wisdom and guidance as I speak to him about faith. I'm also praying that Seth will come. Please Father. You know the desires of my heart. But even so, Thy will, not mine.
After they left, I started getting really anxious. I've had a rash on my back since last night and I think it's the nerves. I felt like I needed to be doing something even though I was putting together a puzzle. But it's like that wasn't enough.
Finally, they called me in to talk to the psychosocial analyst lady. I had been talking a lot, but man, when I got in there, it was crazy. I had to go get a bottle of water because my mouth was getting dry.
Immediately after, I was able to speak with the on-call doctor. I did the same thing. In his words, I "came in, started talking, and didn't shut up." After that, I didn't quite feel relieved, just tired and with a headache. His diagnosis was bipolar disorder and he says he doesn't think I have ADHD at all. I start my new medication tomorrow. I'm a little bit anxious, but also very excited.
Jesse came to see me, which was a complete surprise. He and I go to church together. It was nice to see a familiar face and to know that somebody cared. I needed that. I let him read what I'd written in my journal and asked if he had any questions. Poor thing, I think he was still in shock. He never saw it coming. And he actually workes in the psych ward of a hospital!
I asked him to call Seth for me. I had left Seth a message this morning, asked Becca to text him, and was anxious for him to call back. He called not long after Jesse left, which was also unexpected. It made my day though. I asked him to come visit tomorrow. I so hope he will.
I have this gnawing fear though, stemming from my insecurity, that he will be turned away by my condition. I am so afraid that he will confirm my suspicion that I am unlovable. But surely he will come. Surely we have built enough of a friendship to withstand this. Surely. So I hope.
Saturday, February 14th
10:45 p.m.
10:45 p.m.
I'm sitting in the bathroom floor, trying not to disturb my roommate. She has done nothing but sleep. I can sympathize, though. Without my Adderall tomorrow, I know I will be so tired.
I just got done having another intense conversation with Tomasz. It's so crazy that we ended up here at the same time. I was 12 when I first met him. My dad was his commander. It's a crazy world. And a small one at that.
I truly believe that this is no coincidence. We were meant to impact each other's life in a positive way. He is helping me sort through my issues and I really feel that God placed me here to help him find his faith again. I really believe that.
After my manic high earlier today, I could feel the depression creeping back. I cried tonight for the first time since I've been here. Tomasz had been telling me about his past relationships. Then he asked me a few questions. I came here with the knowledge that I would need to share things I wasn't entirely comfortable sharing. It didn't take long for the conversation to get to Seth. I was more open with him about the whole thing than I have been with anyone, maybe even Seth. By that, I mean that I would never admit to Seth that I love him. But Tomasz already knew. Just like Jesse knew weeks ago. I can't always hold that smile and hide the pain. What I didn't tell Tomasz was that I had read Seth's journal (with his permission), that I had read that he still loves another, that the knowledge that her memory trumped any moment we had ever had together cut me so deep. I have always feared falling in love. And now, knowing that my love will not be returned, I am terrified of being left exposed, of being trampled on, of being abandoned. This is why I first began to cry.
I just got done having another intense conversation with Tomasz. It's so crazy that we ended up here at the same time. I was 12 when I first met him. My dad was his commander. It's a crazy world. And a small one at that.
I truly believe that this is no coincidence. We were meant to impact each other's life in a positive way. He is helping me sort through my issues and I really feel that God placed me here to help him find his faith again. I really believe that.
After my manic high earlier today, I could feel the depression creeping back. I cried tonight for the first time since I've been here. Tomasz had been telling me about his past relationships. Then he asked me a few questions. I came here with the knowledge that I would need to share things I wasn't entirely comfortable sharing. It didn't take long for the conversation to get to Seth. I was more open with him about the whole thing than I have been with anyone, maybe even Seth. By that, I mean that I would never admit to Seth that I love him. But Tomasz already knew. Just like Jesse knew weeks ago. I can't always hold that smile and hide the pain. What I didn't tell Tomasz was that I had read Seth's journal (with his permission), that I had read that he still loves another, that the knowledge that her memory trumped any moment we had ever had together cut me so deep. I have always feared falling in love. And now, knowing that my love will not be returned, I am terrified of being left exposed, of being trampled on, of being abandoned. This is why I first began to cry.
I expressed to Tomasz my belief that I am unlovable. He was so patient with me. He wrote 5 affirmations to help me think positively then he made me list my strengths. It's hard to tell yourself you have good qualities when you've convinced yourself you're a failure with no worth. But I think it has helped to have someone who believes in me.
Tomasz and I exchanged books and I promised to help him make a list tomorrow. He also reminded me of my promise to teach him to read music. All for tomorrow. I am praying for God's wisdom and guidance as I speak to him about faith. I'm also praying that Seth will come. Please Father. You know the desires of my heart. But even so, Thy will, not mine.
February 13, 2009
Bridgeway: Day 1
Friday, February 13th
4:45 p.m.
4:45 p.m.
I'm here at the Bridgeway, following through on my promise to myself to journal every step of this journey. I never thought I would be here. For some reason, I was prideful, believing I was too good, above this, I suppose. I have to remind myself not to play the comparison game, not to judge people based on their appearance, on their intelligence, or on some other shallow criteria, but rather upon their intrinsic value as a human being created in the image of God.
At first, the thought of coming here was upsetting, but I have a sense of peace about it all. I know that God is good and He has a plan that is bigger than me.
I've been contemplating lately why God would put me through something like this. There are so many possibilities, but here are the ones I really took to.
At first, the thought of coming here was upsetting, but I have a sense of peace about it all. I know that God is good and He has a plan that is bigger than me.
I've been contemplating lately why God would put me through something like this. There are so many possibilities, but here are the ones I really took to.
- He may be teaching me to lean on Him in my infirmity.
- Then again, He may be giving me an experience that I will be able to take and help others with.
- He also may use this trial to show the world His glory through my faith in Him despite my troubles.
- I think that maybe this is additionally a lesson in trust: trusting in His judgment, trusting His goodness, trusting Him completely.
Friday, February 13th
6:44 p.m.
6:44 p.m.
I'm a bit suspicious about the methodology of this place. There is a lot of time spent doing absolutely nothing. I shared my concerns with Gwen, a fellow patient, and she said she had been disappointed in the lack of one-on-one counseling. So, I'm not sure how they expect us to just fix ourselves, but I'll give it a fair chance. It's likely I'll be here 5 days.
February 12, 2009
Only the Embers Remain
So, I haven't posted in exactly 3 weeks. A lot has happened in that time, but I'm sure the important stuff will all come out eventually. I'm going to pick up right where I left off, start as if I never stopped, begin with today.
I am not well. I feel it. I see it. I know it. It's amazing to me that no one else has noticed it, because it seems so obvious to me. But I don't suppose anyone can be expected to know what they haven't been told.
I can barely force myself to press down the keys to type these words. I'm struggling to move thoughts around in my head, to actually engage my brain. The past week, I have felt completely dull. Not dull in the sense of boring, but dull in the sense of not alive. Rather than living, I am existing. I am surviving. But nothing more.
I'm unmotivated. I'm depressed. I'm despairing. I am floundering. And would you believe that I'm still very much medicated??? It frightens me to imagine what it would be like if I weren't taking any antidpressants or anything whatsoever. I have no doubt that I would be suicidal. As it is, I'm bordering on it. Wednesday, I was driving around, not knowing what do with myself, trying to work through a lot of crazy emotions. I found myself wondering, "what if I intentionally missed this curve? What if I crashed into that? What if I ran off that bank?"
Thoughts of death have been plaguing me lately. I've even put 'write will' on my to-do list. Not that I expect I'll ever get to that. I rarely do anything on my to-do list. I just seem to sit here. I couldn't tell you how I spend my 8 hours at work. All I know is that I show up and at some point, I leave. But in between, I don't remember a thing. Which is how I used to be all the time. Which makes me wonder if my depression hasn't developed into full blown MDD (major depressive disorder).
My Adderall doesn't seem to be doing its job these days either. The biggest thing I've noticed is that it does keep me awake during the day. I missed one dose and slept half the day away, yawning through all my classes. I can't get started on anything and I'm crazy impulsive. I've accumulated over $300 in overdraft fees in the past week.
I keep hearing things like, "you've just got to grab your bootstraps and do what you gotta do" and "you decide the way your life turns out". These are very motivational and all. And I know they are true to some extent, but I can't help but think that there's just more to it in my situation.
Maybe I'm making excuses for myself. Maybe I don't want to accept the blame that rightfully falls on my shoulders, but maybe, just maybe, there's something more. I can tell you that I am so tired of running off of will-power alone. Nobody has that kind of self-discipline. Or maybe they do. And I just fail at life. Shrug.
The only thing I know for certain is that I'm tired. Tired of pretending, tired of knowing what needs to be done and not finding the energy to do it. Tired of looking for happiness and running away from the things that will bring it. I'm tired of not caring. I'm tired of worrying about how bad the consequences are gonna suck, tired of messing up and not learning the lessons. I'm so tired of living this way.
I have been to one class this week. One. I haven't done my online classwork for the past two weeks. And I skipped several classes before I stopped going altogether. I know what I need to do. I need to go to class. I know what I want to do. I want to get my scholarship back. But I can't get myself to do what's necessary, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I cry, no matter how much I beat myself up, no matter how much I consider the end results of my actions.
I've lost the ability to live my life. Instead, I've fallen once more into a pit of darkness, that place where I lose my will to live, to shine. I visited my old choir teacher today. She said that sometimes events in our lives can be like rain on the fire that is our soul. The fire doesn't go out, but the rain sometimes leaves us smoldering and wishing for the days when we were blazing. I can't see any remnants of the fire I once had. She said it was still there, that she could see it. That made my day. If only I could see what she saw, maybe then I'd be okay. But somehow, I doubt it. For some reason, I think there's more to it than that. But more on that tomorrow.
I am not well. I feel it. I see it. I know it. It's amazing to me that no one else has noticed it, because it seems so obvious to me. But I don't suppose anyone can be expected to know what they haven't been told.
I can barely force myself to press down the keys to type these words. I'm struggling to move thoughts around in my head, to actually engage my brain. The past week, I have felt completely dull. Not dull in the sense of boring, but dull in the sense of not alive. Rather than living, I am existing. I am surviving. But nothing more.
I'm unmotivated. I'm depressed. I'm despairing. I am floundering. And would you believe that I'm still very much medicated??? It frightens me to imagine what it would be like if I weren't taking any antidpressants or anything whatsoever. I have no doubt that I would be suicidal. As it is, I'm bordering on it. Wednesday, I was driving around, not knowing what do with myself, trying to work through a lot of crazy emotions. I found myself wondering, "what if I intentionally missed this curve? What if I crashed into that? What if I ran off that bank?"
Thoughts of death have been plaguing me lately. I've even put 'write will' on my to-do list. Not that I expect I'll ever get to that. I rarely do anything on my to-do list. I just seem to sit here. I couldn't tell you how I spend my 8 hours at work. All I know is that I show up and at some point, I leave. But in between, I don't remember a thing. Which is how I used to be all the time. Which makes me wonder if my depression hasn't developed into full blown MDD (major depressive disorder).
My Adderall doesn't seem to be doing its job these days either. The biggest thing I've noticed is that it does keep me awake during the day. I missed one dose and slept half the day away, yawning through all my classes. I can't get started on anything and I'm crazy impulsive. I've accumulated over $300 in overdraft fees in the past week.
I keep hearing things like, "you've just got to grab your bootstraps and do what you gotta do" and "you decide the way your life turns out". These are very motivational and all. And I know they are true to some extent, but I can't help but think that there's just more to it in my situation.
Maybe I'm making excuses for myself. Maybe I don't want to accept the blame that rightfully falls on my shoulders, but maybe, just maybe, there's something more. I can tell you that I am so tired of running off of will-power alone. Nobody has that kind of self-discipline. Or maybe they do. And I just fail at life. Shrug.
The only thing I know for certain is that I'm tired. Tired of pretending, tired of knowing what needs to be done and not finding the energy to do it. Tired of looking for happiness and running away from the things that will bring it. I'm tired of not caring. I'm tired of worrying about how bad the consequences are gonna suck, tired of messing up and not learning the lessons. I'm so tired of living this way.
I have been to one class this week. One. I haven't done my online classwork for the past two weeks. And I skipped several classes before I stopped going altogether. I know what I need to do. I need to go to class. I know what I want to do. I want to get my scholarship back. But I can't get myself to do what's necessary, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I cry, no matter how much I beat myself up, no matter how much I consider the end results of my actions.
I've lost the ability to live my life. Instead, I've fallen once more into a pit of darkness, that place where I lose my will to live, to shine. I visited my old choir teacher today. She said that sometimes events in our lives can be like rain on the fire that is our soul. The fire doesn't go out, but the rain sometimes leaves us smoldering and wishing for the days when we were blazing. I can't see any remnants of the fire I once had. She said it was still there, that she could see it. That made my day. If only I could see what she saw, maybe then I'd be okay. But somehow, I doubt it. For some reason, I think there's more to it than that. But more on that tomorrow.