What I learned about church…

My relationship with the church is permanently over I am afraid. I struggled to fit in at our church in Colorado and way, way over inserted myself at our church here. And this spring, when I was desperate for some Jesus, I got shunned by a young person I valued and cared about over a person who took part in the mass implosion of my life. These people I reached to because I so badly and desperately needed saved, turned into the catalyst to the dissolution of my faith. Where I never could feel God before, I now, cannot even muster the energy to try. I feel, even at this moment, I was vilified for being angry at the person who lit the match to the fire that destroyed life. And when I apologized and begged for help, I got words like “to be fair” and “you shouldn’t be afraid” when I was, desperately afraid. As if my fears were not valid. As if the mental illness and gun ownership and narcissism weren’t enough for me to be afraid of.

I didn’t once feel the forgiveness and love Christians are supposed to feel in these situations. Sure the majority of the Christians who were already in my life gave me grace and told me that I was forgiven and loved, without judgment but they already loved me. To them, I was the fellow church goer and not the sinner the “new” church made me feel I was. As if my sin; of anger and hurt and pain was worse than this other person’s commandment sin. A BIG DEAL sin. Because I reacted in anger and hurt and pain, I wasn’t worthy of their love. Because I doubted my faith at that moment, I wasn’t worth fighting for. And that, that is why I will never, ever set foot in a church again. Because this person chose to do their dirty work in the “privacy” of their shitty Twitter and in emails and CRAP-EFFING-TACULAR behaviour in stores and cars and AT MY DAUGHTER’S JOB, this “church” didn’t see anything but what this liar told them and not once, ONCE did they ask if we were okay. Okay, that’s not totally true. Kevin got a half-hearted text and I got vilified.  Pure love there. I feel it *eyeroll*.

I’m hurt. Really hurt lately. That instead of trying to love me back into the God’s love, I got left out on the faith raft, alone. And I’ve lost it. The light and the passion I used to feel. I feel hurt and abandoned by God. As my world continues to implode, I feel hurt and abandoned and alone. Because everyone’s afraid to talk to me about it. Because it’s scary to talk to someone who is passionate and angry and wants answers.

I don’t know why I care. These people were not my friends before all this and likely couldn’t care less about us now.  I just needed to see the face of faith in someone other than the people who already love me; unconditionally. I needed to know, that outside my circle someone saw this for what it is. And I didn’t. And I don’t.  But I luckily have several, wonderful people who try to keep me grounded. I am sure it’s an exhausting job. But I am grateful for them.  I feel, every day, like they may walk away but I try to remind myself that this is just the mental illness talking, and not what’s happening. Not everyone walks away. Sometimes people even come back.

This has been a low week. Low. And even with the few and fabulous rays of light peaking through, I found it hard to put my feet in front of each other. In fact, for the first time in months, I cut a workout short and just sat in the stall of the YMCA and cried. I’d failed myself again. The one thing I have control over, I couldn’t complete. I was, I am sick but I needed that workout and I didn’t get it done and then I ate terribly and drank more than I should have, and folded up into myself.  And it’s hard to forgive myself when I feel unforgivable all the time and I don’t even know why. I didn’t do this. I didn’t.

They keep saying one step forward, two back. It’s tiring though. Because some days, like I said, I feel utter joy and then some, I feel so incredibly afraid and lost and well, lonely. The afraid is the worst. The waiting for the next thing. “Choose to be happy”, they say. I am trying and I think it’s there sometimes but I am so incredibly lost and hurt that the light at the end of the sadness is just a pin hole. It feels a hundred years away.

Mental illness is so unfair. It’s truly unfair.

My point to all this is I hope, I wish for those who are Christians in my life, if you see a “me” out there, hold her. Don’t make her feel as though there is no love for her. She needs you more than the people sitting next to you every week. Don’t get lost in the “I didn’t know what to say”; simply I am here and I am listening is enough. She needs you to show her the love of God before it’s too late. When you’re in the bottom of the pit and there is no light, a match flame might be all you need to find your path again. My match got blown out. I don’t know that I’ll ever recover.

 

 

 

 

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

Have Ramen, will be okay

Kevin works for Hai Street Kitchen now. Gone are the days of lemonades and red straws and here comes the days of sushi burritos and omg, ramen. So much awesome ramen. I am sitting here, eating said ramen, happy I voted and ready for bed time. Today everything feels okay. Yesterday, Sunday? It did not but today, ramen makes it okay.

The “my life got stolen from me” diet, has been a weird one. There are days where I eat nothing and other days where I can’t get the cheese crackers in my mouth fast enough. Some mornings, it’s 4 cups of coffee, black and others, one with sugar is hard to suck down. I’ve lost weight I needed to lose but at the expense of lots of normalcy. I’m out of control. Being out of control makes me feel horrible. I feel horrible most of the days. I can’t seem to figure out how to regain control. I paint; out of control. I cry; out of control. I go back to work; out of control. I write and say what I want; oh em gee, out of control. I stop writing, stop talking; so out of control.

I have no control except to sit here and enjoy my ramen.

So I will take that control. It’s all you can do when you have a daily battle with mental health combined with immense trauma.

This is mental health awareness month. I have a deep struggle with mental illness. One that no god or higher power can fix. It’s a chemical thing. One that makes me so sad and sometimes, unaware of what is actually happening instead of what the manipulations and manipulators are telling me. I am a high functioning mental health person. I can wake up each and every morning and plan out my suicide but still get the kids ready to go to school, sew a Halloween costume and make dinner, that actually tastes good. I’ve never been to “that place” when I would actually do it, but I know, very well, the feelings before it.

I see a therapist now. My March sent me into a very dark place and my April, well it dug the hole for my coffin. May has been somewhat better. I was able to apologize and to realize that my struggles aren’t something I am making up in my head. They’re happening, to me and not happening because I did something wrong.  This is because I found a therapist that is so very much for me. I couldn’t have met her at a better time. She doesn’t make me feel bitter or angry. She is the first to tell me that when my actions are awful, that they are awful but there are reasons behind them and the reasons aren’t because I am crazy or mean; the reasons are because I am getting my ass kicked and sometimes, our feelings are out of our control. We just need to learn to reign them in, in a healthy way and not let the white rage come through. She and my army of friends have saved me from filling that May hole.

May is mental health awareness month. I am gonna find some control in educating people about the “sad”. Tell them about my brother; he lost to the sad. About myself, who can’t see her beauty because the demons are so big. I will use May to show people that have mental illness aren’t always the people on the street corners chanting obscenities. That sometimes it is the mother at the library with “bitchy resting face” or the funny lady who loved her family fiercely and was fine one day and gone the next. I want people to know the signs of scary mental illness. That often suicide isn’t the tweet that reads, “I am not okay” but it’s the giving away of oneself so that you have nothing to take to the afterlife. And that sometimes suicide comes out of the blue so you have to really look closely at the people you love.

I also want people to know that mental illness doesn’t make me crazy. Sure, it makes me sad but is also makes me who I am. Well, parts of who I am. And I am truly loving, truly giving. It’s in the parts of me that paint and draw and sew and would do just about anything for anyone. And while the sad will keep me from your party, it will not keep me from holding you in your darkest hours. I think anyone who really knows me, knows that is me.

So please, educate yourself. Know that praying doesn’t cure true mental health issues anymore then dancing naked in the woods does. Learn the signs of the suicidal person. It could be your daughter or your son, someday, scary as it is to say outloud, it might be me. And the “not sick” me, wants you to save me, because I have so much to live for.

Image result for mental health awareness month may 2017

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

I’ll join your circle

The days are long anymore. And even though I find that I have the want to go back to the old normal, I often get stuck in this perpetual motion that actually takes me nowhere. It’s as though I am walking on a treadmill. Getting nowhere but wishing I was at my goal. I don’t like it. It is getting less sad though. As I slowly introduce some life back into my lungs, I am finding it easier to let go of the evil that is no longer welcome in my head. I slipped once. A jolly middle finger at the devil. I can’t even deny it felt good. Awesome really. It felt human. Because I am human and I am still here.

Spring is always busy. We added a boy to the baseball schedule which ended up working out fine because Davis’ team doesn’t start until mid-May. Devlynn’s wrapping up lacrosse already too. It’s been a blurry few months. I am not even sure I’ve withheld the memory to say I was here even though I have the scars to prove I was. Trying to figure out the end of year gifts and coaches appreciation is proving hard in my head but it will get done. I always get it done. The reality is it’s always been me keeping things afloat. I’m grateful now for a teammate though instead of just an investor.

I dyed my hair blue. My poor white sheets are blue though. And I think I will literally have to recolor weekly to keep it where I want it. A dear friend got me a gift card to a hair salon and I may have them bleach it for me, just to make it easier to keep up on the color. I like it. It feels like me. I like not feeling so plain. I wish I could see the beautiful people keep telling me I am.

This weekend I went to a Moon Circle. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t even sure what it was but I am so eager to say “yes” these days, that I just blindly went. It was one of the better decisions I have made in the past few months. I felt uneasy turning into the driveway; so much so I turned around. But once I got there, I knew I was supposed to be there. It was an awakening. I’m excited to see where it takes me. I pulled these Goddess cards that told my story. I received a much-needed gift and I emotionally vomited on this new friend. It was like the secret flooded out onto the earth and the pain started to slip away. It was like I knew that this was just a temporary uncomfortable. That this awful wouldn’t be there forever and was actually on the way out. Out of sight, out of mind. The world is too big a place to keep running into that which is ruining your peace. I’m taking my peace back.

Healing is a funny thing. It ebbs and flows like the waves of the ocean. Coming in often softly and with a sweet and soothing sound. And sometimes that same healing pulls away briefly…. I like to think to create a bigger wave of rejuvenation.  Sometimes when it pulls away, I get dark but I am trying to remember that the wave of health will always return. It always returns. I see it all around me. In the shapes of my children tucked into their own beds. In the warmth of my own bed, filled with comfort and love again. In the white sheets, now tinted blue, that I wash every couple of days because I love how it feels and smells to go to sleep in fresh sheets or to read enveloped in a place that no one can ever steal the peace from again. I see the healing in the smiles that greet me each day and the silly text messages and in the in hand holding. I see it in the flowers on my loved trees and in the warm and wonderful messages, I received daily. I see the healing when I don’t feel like I am mourning all of a sudden but starting new instead. Like a rebirth. We’re constantly rebirthing, aren’t we?

I don’t know that I will ever understand why these things happen. I can’t waste the time to try to figure it out anymore. I guess all I can do is appreciate that even though it took a tragedy and, holy hell, a lot of pain, that it helped me to start rediscovering myself. I won’t pretend that it’s over or that I’m at peace with any of this. I am not there yet. Not even close but I want to start to appreciate the journey. I want to know myself again and stop getting lost in the “what ifs”.

Even if that means the occasional middle finger.

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.