Pleased to Meet You

"Get up and go. Your faith has made you whole." Jesus said that to the 1 leper out out 10 he had healed, the one who ran back to fall at his feet in gratitude. It was our Gospel lesson in church this morning and I realized as soon as I sat down here, that it provides me with the perfect place to start.

I am a 49 year old single mother. I have been raising my 17 year old daughter pretty much on my own for the last 9 years. I have experienced and been challenged by depression since I was 12. I was abused by my parents as a child, and in a typical pattern, I grew up and selected, unconsciously, a few intimate partners to abuse me too. I have also abused myself, trying desperately and earnestly to die for many years. Too much drink, too many drugs, too much not giving a shit. I still have days when I walk in front of cars while crossing the street, thinking that if someone hits me, it will 'make my day'. I actually look at the cars, challenging them with my stare, challenging them to hit me. Tell me that aint nuts.

I deal with PTSD. I have had 3 breakdowns in my adult life, the last one occurring 5 years ago. I have come to the brink of financial ruin. I will probably never be given another credit card by any major credit card company, but I own my own home. I work at 2 jobs to keep the roof over our head. I have been lost, I have been found. And yes, God has been a big part of that--the being found part, that is--but so have people and animals and nature and music and writing. Also pharmaceuticals and herbs and vitamins and simple exercise, also simple exercises in faith. I have been there and done that, gone around the bend and back again, lost my mind, found it, lost it again.

But I have also found a path in life that sustains and nourishes me. Somehow, through all this, I have clearly discovered my purpose in life. I know my call. I know what gifts I have to give. And, I actually think I know what I need to do to stay healthy. That last breakdown was too scary, that falling out of control too overwhelming. I have a child to raise. I have animals to care for. God has a plan for me. And, I want to share my story, my struggles and my joys and my triumphs here with you, because if you were drawn to this blog, then maybe we have something in common. Maybe we have something good to share with each other.

See, the funny thing about all this, the thing that continues to fascinate me, is that to other people, I look like someone who is strong and together and whole. I look healthy. I do not look like someone who is always at the risk of falling apart inside. Remember when the Trade Towers fell so gracefully to the ground on 9/11? How they fell straight down, almost neatly?That's what it is like inside of me when I fall apart. But people often don't believe me when I don't feel well. I have heard so many times the refrains familiar to depressives everywhere: "Get over it." "Snap out of it." "Oh come on, it can't be that bad, can it?" Or how about these, "What are you doing for yourself? What do you think set this off? Are you on medication?" As if there is some magic pill out there that will make it all better. NO more doubt, no more fear, no more bad days. Ever.

Because I dont know about you, but some days, I wake up in that bad place. And if only it were as neat as saying, 'Oh yes, yesterday at the market when that woman was rude to me, that must be why I am lost in a fog wanting to kill myself today.' Uh huh. Sure. Sometimes my brain chemicals just do their thing, and, blip, the world is a very scary place again.

Anyway, I want to share my story here. I want to share my survival skills and I want to share my tools for living. I learned some good things from my trauma counselor at the psych hospital. (I think she is one of the few therapists who ever truly got what was going on with me. ) I hope that you will feel free to share with me too. Because one of the scariest parts of depression is it wants us all to itself. Wants us isolated and alone. Abusers do that to us too. They tell us lies, tell us we are no good, we are unworthy, we are guilty, culpable, at fault (it was not until I left my abusive x that i learned the things he was doing to me were ILLEGAL; he always told me that if i called the cops on him he would tell them it was all my fault--and the sorry thing is, i believed him!). But that's how it works--we hear that crap over and over enough times and we begin to believe it. Especially if we have heard it since we were small children. That's how it has been for me.

I dont have any easy answers and I dont have any magic. I dont think I know it all. I just know I have survivied. I also know some days my brain is lost in a fog and I cant think and I hear those lies all over again and I believe them. I am not trying to convert anyone but I must speak my truth: God has helped me. God has rescued me. God rescues me every day. All I have to do is cry out in prayer. And bingo he is there. I have nothing left but God, in some ways. I have hit the wall in all the other places--drink fails, drugs fail, sex fails, men fail. Even well-meaning friends can fail us by not being available or not being able to understand. (If i had a dollar for every time I tried to call someone when i was in crisis and no one answered their phone.....) Anyway, I dont expect people to drop everything and save me over and over again and I tend to avoid hospitals and health care workers like the plague. I would not call myself normal and I would not hold myself up as an example of how to live. I am rather solitary, I prefer the company of animals and children to adult humans, and I walk everywhere. I do not have a car. I hate cars. I live in a small village, not someplace with good public transportation. I did not say i am 100% sane. But as my daughter has described me, I am "crazy but not in a selfish way." I am just the kind of person Jesus loved. Just the kind of person he welcomed and hung out with. And that simple truth, friends, makes me feel quite okay.

Until next time, I am your friend, Rozenkraai