tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18920595733243313382024-03-05T15:20:39.574+00:00If She Had Wings...... she would fly away, and another day God will give her some.Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.comBlogger226125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-56340199123963229942018-09-10T21:51:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:11:48.696+01:00Suicide.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhtZPu8zG4ZKoo-CUSu4l7mykl9k2SMQMgAnTCHGebldo1ziD7VziiiK7tkX9jTZeUo-5LLNfS4Kj1VJqHAxkWG1ctN8HQziTFwFb2lhaMLm0HdW5yucNPXP9rsxirf50dC0ueY6R6t8/s1600/IMG_5424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhtZPu8zG4ZKoo-CUSu4l7mykl9k2SMQMgAnTCHGebldo1ziD7VziiiK7tkX9jTZeUo-5LLNfS4Kj1VJqHAxkWG1ctN8HQziTFwFb2lhaMLm0HdW5yucNPXP9rsxirf50dC0ueY6R6t8/s320/IMG_5424.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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So let’s talk about Suicide. It’s one of those subjects where people often fall in one of three camps: those who have experienced it, those who kinda understand it, and those who really really don’t.</div>
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But you know what? It’s okay to not understand it; to not know what it feels like to think you’d be better off dead; to think that the world would be better off without you; to be so fed up of the pain inside that you would do anything, ANYTHING, to make it stop. Or to not know what it’s like to live day after day with thoughts and urges to harm yourself that you don’t want or understand.
If you don’t understand it, count yourself as blessed.But don’t be naive to think it might never happen to you.</div>
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I doubt anyone spends life thinking that their physical health will remain top notch forever. We exercise and we drink water and we eat 5-a-day in order to keep our bodies healthy. And yet, accidents can happen and illnesses can occur where we need to see a doctor unexpectedly. Well, the same is true of our mental health. One day, something might happen that knocks us for six and rather than hide it or be made to feel ashamed, we need to be honest and open and seek help from professionals.</div>
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Personally, I never expected to spend so much time in hospital this year. I never expected to need to see so many mental health professionals, or to be diagnosed with an illness that I’ve probably had and been mistreated for since I was a teenager. But it happened. And I’ve discovered new strengths and depths to myself that I was never aware of.</div>
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So on this, World Suicide Prevention Day, it’s okay to need help. It’s okay if you don’t understand suicide. It’s okay if you’ve never considered it. It’s okay if you think about it every day. But wherever you are with your mental health - be kind to yourself. Seek help when you need it. Dig deep and discover your inner warrior. Talk to friends if it helps. Sit on a hill and watch the sky change blue to pink. Feel the wind on your face. Sleep the afternoon away. Play with your kids, or your friends kids. Do whatever you need to do to get through today. Because tomorrow needs you.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-29168612385697236172018-09-08T23:55:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:07:44.339+01:00Loneliness/Being Alone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wE4-k4DnkUZKyLyqqL3PeuNOjYIgMNk0EVVqUF63RQPI2Vc-JpPPjhQDXbkPy3F9zZRMU9UXl2CI6q8QSUo0QeZ_zDFl0Uqn-RL5XeAgNSMIv1B90F2iZoGjd8x1EnCDQvszqN6VXSw/s1600/IMG_5384.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wE4-k4DnkUZKyLyqqL3PeuNOjYIgMNk0EVVqUF63RQPI2Vc-JpPPjhQDXbkPy3F9zZRMU9UXl2CI6q8QSUo0QeZ_zDFl0Uqn-RL5XeAgNSMIv1B90F2iZoGjd8x1EnCDQvszqN6VXSw/s320/IMG_5384.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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I’ve talked about this before, but on days like this, where the only person I spoke to face-to-face was through a fence, I realise how isolating living alone can be. I’ve lived alone before. (And lived with people that I barely saw day-to-day.) But in Essex, it was different. I was on home-turf. Living in your home town, with those friends you’ve grown up with, whose parents know you and practically treat you like one of their own, where you can drop by their place any time of day and they’d welcome you in and tell you to help yourself to a drink. They understand you and your family. They get the weirdness and uniqueness and the quirkiness of you, and accept it without question. Those streets where even the benches have memories attached to them.</div>
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But the world is bigger than that, and as much as I miss it and miss my friends, I’m glad that I listened to God’s quiet whisper and ventured out into the wider world.
Nowadays, I eat 90% of my meals sitting in bed watching a DVD. I can go a full 24 hours without seeing or speaking to another human being. Most of my in-depth and meaningful conversations happen via social media and text. And most nights I sneak away to a pretty place to watch the sunset/city lights on my own. When you see it written down, you might think that I lead a pretty lonely life. And in some aspects, that’s true. But in others... I’ve never been more free in all my life. No regrets.
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Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-38408629285915588322018-09-04T22:57:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:01:42.816+01:00This is Where I Belong<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXNxywvtIAl3gFFzPSEyLn74_dqNx15ZNZA8d1s9rIrmBZJl9Ex_vH45QWrrfYQniPRdek14CfubExTy1kpjz_kEqR4TamSTX6OxsSFb8abiKH91c7v6_YciZ-r24MwJ3qWyKBmb8p7Y/s1600/IMG_5301.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXNxywvtIAl3gFFzPSEyLn74_dqNx15ZNZA8d1s9rIrmBZJl9Ex_vH45QWrrfYQniPRdek14CfubExTy1kpjz_kEqR4TamSTX6OxsSFb8abiKH91c7v6_YciZ-r24MwJ3qWyKBmb8p7Y/s320/IMG_5301.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Listened to this song by Housefires on repeat as I drove home today. These are basically the entire lyrics to the song, so it kinda became a mantra I was singing to myself as I journeyed back to my flat to be alone. I wanted it to become one of the recurring thoughts that I have in my head as opposed to all the negative ones that ride the carousel of my mind. Because my head is full of negative thoughts, and sometimes they make my world dark and hopeless. They tell me that I am alone and unloveable. That I am useless and a burden to everyone around me. They tell me I am ugly and no one wants to be my friend. And I can’t stop those thoughts. They come and go frequently, they lurk in the shadows of my mind and they pop up at any time. I have no idea how to stop them, they’ve been around as long as I can remember, like wallpaper that’s faded and gloomy and you don’t even notice it. So mostly I try to ignore them but some days they are louder than others. But just maybe, one by one I can replace them with words like this. “This is where I belong. Held by the arms of love.” Thank you Jesus.
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Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-11734533384137741962018-09-03T22:21:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:22:33.613+01:00Choosing Me.<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last week I made a decision to walk away when I could have kept trying. I chose to put myself first where I could have allowed my own feelings and hurts to sink beneath the surface in order to spare the other person. I chose to stand by the way I felt rather than apologise for it. I chose to put myself first, when usually I would have done the complete opposite.</div>
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And that could have left me feeling guilty and selfish. But this time I knew I needed to do it. I needed to take the advice that everyone has been giving me since the day I left hospital. I needed to prioritise my own recovery - even if it went against every belief and instinct in my body.
And maybe that meant I wasn’t there for others when I would normally have been. But this week, where sleep and alone time have been largely the norm, my body thanked me for it. And I can’t apologise for that. I can’t apologise for being who I am. For saying the truth and choosing to put my own mental health and emotional wellbeing above everyone else’s for once. I’m sorry if you got hurt. I’m sorry if you didn’t like what I had to say. But I’m not going to apologise for being me. I’m not going to apologise for choosing myself for once. Because I never do. </div>
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Anyone who knows me well knows that about me. They’ve been telling me to do it for months. But I’ve always put others needs and wants ahead of my own; because I believed it was the right thing to do. But now I’m tired; no, I’m exhausted. I’ve been sleeping 12-14 hours a day this week. And I still feel like I need to sleep more. I’ve had no energy. And I’ve cried; oh how I’ve cried. And mostly, I’ve been alone. But that’s okay. It’s okay because it’s what I needed to feel and what I’ve needed to be. And for the first time in a long time, I’ve actually felt free - free to do what I needed to do to aid my recovery. Because I’ve not felt responsible for anyone else’s. It’s not my job to keep anyone else going. I’m no longer obliged to bury my own hurt and my own wishes for the sake of other people. </div>
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So that’s how it is. I’m sorry if you’ve been hurt. But I can’t apologise for doing what I needed to do to get through another week. I hit breaking point and I needed out. I needed time. I needed to walk this part of the journey alone. And I needed to learn the hard lesson, that the only person that can be responsible for your life - is you. I can’t be responsible for yours and you can’t be responsible for mine.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-39656885497245525352018-08-21T23:28:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:29:53.365+01:00Bad Day.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyomL2Z0yVRBgwG2L3c3JJW8UYo2cT29KDhOESYLdX9m_4h5fL6DzuOzJzmFWtRCypOKZoBJCLePSdc11VJPceJVc-PkLzthcVIhZulEtsgZFCRQJiKI5OttRjiVjk_2Q9TxK2LIRUVI/s1600/IMG_5018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="817" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyomL2Z0yVRBgwG2L3c3JJW8UYo2cT29KDhOESYLdX9m_4h5fL6DzuOzJzmFWtRCypOKZoBJCLePSdc11VJPceJVc-PkLzthcVIhZulEtsgZFCRQJiKI5OttRjiVjk_2Q9TxK2LIRUVI/s320/IMG_5018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It’s one of those days. One where the perks of being a borderline are felt deep and raw, heartbreaking and uncontrollable. Attachment issues. Fear of abandonment. Anxiety. Distorted self-worth and identity. These things, amongst BPD friends we laugh at them. We wind each other up about it. We might even make a few jokes that cut just a little too far beneath the surface. But when they rear their heads, in days like today, there is nothing to laugh about. There is just crawling into a ball and refusing to eat, drink or move. There is crying and more crying. Isolation and despair. There is fear and there is deep pain.</div>
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In the last 48 hours, I have lost two of my professional support team. Both my support worker at Saltbrook and now my CCO have gone. New jobs, new lives and opportunities: for them. And for me, a hurt I can’t express. A wound that will take me many many years and counselling sessions to unpack. I don’t do goodbyes. I can’t deal with people walking out of my life.</div>
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Ironically, as an INFJ, if you let me down consistently I will eventually do an INFJ door slam on you. I will cut toxic people out of my life regularly. And I know that I push you away, cause it’s all part of the chronic controversy that is Borderline Personality. But if you’re a friend, a help, someone I can talk to and rely on; someone I love and care about: Please don’t leave me. Please stick around long enough to see me fight this horrible illness. I’m really trying. Today is just not a good day.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-81058664184167628592018-08-20T16:32:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:33:23.329+01:00Healer.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYEhUXlvJUq4Vz0R9Sskx3cOxdIsAN4ljBH7RQjgHjGWSbmtHP-BwNCkhc0G0PVoplZ5zX7kdt9gqncs1ywdJPN1hzs7CAJ00qGq8Dqc-a55iXngLBWJGrqBFjIHp1DSt3ivcsUJsVAA/s1600/IMG_5009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYEhUXlvJUq4Vz0R9Sskx3cOxdIsAN4ljBH7RQjgHjGWSbmtHP-BwNCkhc0G0PVoplZ5zX7kdt9gqncs1ywdJPN1hzs7CAJ00qGq8Dqc-a55iXngLBWJGrqBFjIHp1DSt3ivcsUJsVAA/s320/IMG_5009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was listening to this song the other day as I drove home from Essex, and it suddenly struck me: I may not have an illness like cancer or diabetes or epilepsy that needs healing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need God’s healing in my life as much as the next person. Whenever I have been at any service or event in recent years where there has been prayer for healing, I know that my thoughts and my brain start to wander and I switch off, because I think that it doesn’t apply to me. I sit back and allow ‘other people’ to ask God for healing; people who ‘need it more’.</div>
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But I need healing from my selfishness, and from my greed, from bitterness and anger, from past hurts I haven’t let go of and disappointments I haven’t accepted. I need healing from grudges I haven’t relented on and promises that have been broken. I need healing from feeling unworthy, from loneliness and from self-hatred. I need healing from the mental torture I put myself through every day. From feeling not good enough and from thinking that I’m useless. From unrealistic expectations for others and for myself. I need healing from my insatiable desire to be loved, from my fear of abandonment, from my tendency to push the people I love away.</div>
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Surely if God is capable of healing leprosy and blindness and paralysis then He can also heal me of all the things that are holding me back from living a life of freedom in Him? How oblivious I’ve been! Thank you Jesus for opening my eyes and helping me to see. May you pour your blessing and grace upon my life right now. 🙏</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-82657326568067595212018-08-15T20:35:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:36:48.552+01:00Letter of Hope.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlUMJ504OtuF1kIQmPwlByfxmjhyhC0CBeImsAu5Z4wAxqV03pAfihxayAkPyGfcGeKOsZRfSiA4Xge8boS7lfnOwEcqF8QYyAsV-dYFoGQLBDEeHUDTDMwf3rbEfNF20apzQTGy3aSY/s1600/Photo+14-08-2018%252C+20+23+29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlUMJ504OtuF1kIQmPwlByfxmjhyhC0CBeImsAu5Z4wAxqV03pAfihxayAkPyGfcGeKOsZRfSiA4Xge8boS7lfnOwEcqF8QYyAsV-dYFoGQLBDEeHUDTDMwf3rbEfNF20apzQTGy3aSY/s320/Photo+14-08-2018%252C+20+23+29.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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Dear friend,</div>
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There will come a time in your life, that no matter how much careful planning you try to do, no matter how many friends you invite out, no matter how many professionals have your name on file, you will find yourself alone. And there will be others you can call. But you won’t, for fear of worrying them. So you will keep the sadness locked up inside. And it will make you feel horribly and desperately alone. And the unanswered texts and messages will make you feel abandoned and empty. And you’ll be left wondering if everyone is really busy or if they just didn’t want to see you. So you will spend some time sobbing your heart out on a beautiful hill, wondering what happened to make life come to this.</div>
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And it is at that moment, little one, when you know that you cannot rely on anybody else in this world, that you will have to make the choice between hope and despair. Between life and death, the future, or the past. And I hope, that when that moment comes, you will find a reason to live for the tomorrows. A reason to hold onto life when all you feel is pain. A reason to keep making those tiny steps forward. Because no matter how dark the world gets when the sun retreats, there will be a tomorrow. And tomorrow needs you.</div>
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You can make it. You can hold on. Because you are not the first person to feel this sorrow. And you will not be the last. So when that time comes, when your heart is torn and the walls are crumbling, and you don’t know how you can go on: hold on. Hold on in the darkness, hold on through the pain, hold on with the knowledge that one day, you can be the one that someone else needs. The friend that didn’t give up. The one that wasn’t too busy. The light in the darkness. You can be strong dear friend, you have already survived so much. </div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-37082278915947401322018-08-11T20:47:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:49:01.689+01:00Listening. Pt 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And then I spent the second half of the night listening as another friend wept her heart out. She bravely shared with me things that had happened to her, things that no-one, good or bad, deserves to have happen to them. And I listened as she blamed herself. And as she told me she thought she deserved it. And if my heart had had any part of it left to break, that shattered too. I held her while she sobbed. I spoke love and hope and honesty over her for hours.</div>
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And then for a while, we both just listened to the silence. I didn’t try to give advice, because I was speechless. I didn’t try to fix the situation though I wished I could change the hurt she felt inside of her. But I also knew I couldn’t. All I could do is stay strong. And help her to make good decisions regarding her wellbeing and safety. When she was ready. It was a long night. But I knew she needed to know that I wasn’t giving up on her. And that I loved her and I believed in her and that I will always listen to all the things she never feels able to share with anyone, when she is ready to tell me. Because she is a beautiful, broken human being, just like me.</div>
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And we all need to be seen, we all need to be heard, and sometimes, we all need to just listen.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-24528160206972473882018-08-11T16:46:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:46:32.801+01:00Listening. Pt 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tdMBgYEAiz6CxPLu1DabcTR5_yv39g2WuarUGizbQ92FM6W4lFZLu2ZKAZrIn7BFA2RTWFq2CN7dKiYXmQ8NMd-eb1xlgb-NzBVj_8hKVZS3Bjp0tRea9Iqfk-MLk_i2YCTg_8Wfg0Y/s1600/IMG_4824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1395" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tdMBgYEAiz6CxPLu1DabcTR5_yv39g2WuarUGizbQ92FM6W4lFZLu2ZKAZrIn7BFA2RTWFq2CN7dKiYXmQ8NMd-eb1xlgb-NzBVj_8hKVZS3Bjp0tRea9Iqfk-MLk_i2YCTg_8Wfg0Y/s320/IMG_4824.JPG" width="279" /></a></div>
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And then, I spent the next few hours listening. First to a friend whose wonderful family have blessed and supported me in unimaginable ways this last year. Ways I can never repay. He spoke words of love over me. He told me he knew I was struggling, and that the last week had been really hard for me, but he was proud of me. (Yes I cried again!) Just hearing someone acknowledge it, someone who just knew me without me having to explain it, was refreshing. But then I listened as he doubted himself, questioned himself, because of the way some people had treated him.</div>
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And I have to say, that hurt me more than the rest of the day had. That he could think for one second that he wasn’t good enough, and that he wasn’t living a life that God would smile over. He’s one of the most phenomenal people I have ever been blessed to meet. He is kind and generous and loving, even when no-one is looking. He goes above and beyond for so many people, and he does it without expecting recognition or reward. And it made me realise, that in all this time I have been struggling, waiting for God to move in my life: and he already has. He’s kept promises in the people He has surrounded me with. He has blessed me with an amazing church family to call home. And he’s given me friends who listen to all the things I don’t say. To all the things I wish I could say. And to all the things I say in my heart. But I realised that maybe I need to say them out loud more often. So this one is for you, dear friend.</div>
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Thanks for always listening. 😊</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-80292058648521193972018-08-10T01:38:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:43:24.143+01:00Listening. Pt 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxVhtgME1n0tGxQl0Tpb34_xzeHr8Xj5yVRrJaOwP8wHWvFUKo-sQqS-Q7pVhbz6Wo_xMn-dif6cVU2kAvgg4ku2_geP3DoZD2gkf_sbvFRNrDgeHuY7uQFWWDmVyq_fuE7q8tU6uCVE/s1600/IMG_4803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxVhtgME1n0tGxQl0Tpb34_xzeHr8Xj5yVRrJaOwP8wHWvFUKo-sQqS-Q7pVhbz6Wo_xMn-dif6cVU2kAvgg4ku2_geP3DoZD2gkf_sbvFRNrDgeHuY7uQFWWDmVyq_fuE7q8tU6uCVE/s320/IMG_4803.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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So, honestly...
I’ve spent most of the last 24 hours crying. I went to bed on Wednesday crying and I woke up on Thursday morning feeling tearful and hopeless. I just wanted every difficult thing in my life to end. Truthfully, I wanted my life to end. My mind struggled to compute life past the end of the summer. My thought pattern turned unhealthy very quickly, as I began to make plans and think about who might miss me and who definitely wouldn’t. I stayed in bed crying and watching DVD’s until past lunchtime. </div>
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In the afternoon, I’d promised to give a friend a lift to Dudley, so we went there and then to Costa where we laughed at M. McIntyre videos and truer than life memes. We talked about death, like we often do, and like we always do, we gave each other reasons to stay alive that we ignore for ourselves. </div>
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Then I went back to my flat. And I cried some more. And I spoke to Sam on the phone and bawled down the phone to him, feeling so guilty for the pressure I put on him and how much I rely on him and all the time knowing there is little he can do to change how I feel. </div>
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After that I lay, half-asleep in my bed until a friend text and asked if I fancied going to the shop. So we headed out, and as the sun was setting, I took her up to the back of St Andrews church where we watched the most gorgeous sunset and saw some wild horses. It’s a favourite place of mine to sit, and as we watched the colours sweep across the sky, we sat, and we breathed in the evening air and the soft stillness and the peace that comes from watching nature in all its magnificence. And I realised, what a wonderful moment to be with friends... </div>
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<i> To be continued...</i></div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-22069686760388758242018-08-09T22:56:00.000+01:002018-09-11T16:57:29.281+01:00Honesty.<div style="text-align: justify;">
Honesty. How much is too much? I’ve been thinking about this so much recently, because often when I’m in a bad place, people will ask me a question and want me to “be honest with them” about how I’m feeling, but it doesn’t always end up being the best thing for me. So I hold back the whole truth, and I give a generic overview; the tip of the iceberg, if you will. Not sure if it’s my BPD, INJF-ness or my autistic traits but I just really struggle with generic questions like, ‘how are you?’. My brain won’t compute an answer in the socially accepted time-frame within which to answer so I say, “fine” or “yeah I’m okay.” If you want to know something direct you’re much better off asking me a direct question.</div>
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It’s certainly no secret that since getting out of hospital I have been really struggling, wishing things could be different, wishing I could somehow understand the mess my head is in. I cry at the smallest things. I cry at the big things. I feel alone and yet I’m surrounded. I feel overwhelmed and empty and every day I just hope and pray that something might suddenly just click into place; that I might begin to feel a little bit more normal.</div>
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I know I need to give myself time, to rest and recover, to give therapy a chance, to hold on to hope and love and peace that might one day drop back into my life. But it’s hard. It’s so hard.</div>
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So I just wanted to say thank you. So many of you have encouraged me and been praying for me and have been ever so patient when I just haven’t been able to do the things I normally would have. Maybe you were one of those people who asked how I was and didn’t feel like you got the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I’m sorry.</div>
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And I’m so thankful for this Insta feed. <a href="https://www.instagram.com/morganharpernichols/" target="_blank">Morgan Harper Nichols</a> posts speak so loudly to me. I read them all the time to remind myself to let grace abound and to let myself breathe. To trust that the light will break through the darkness and grace pours in day after day. Because honesty, though it might not be perfect, it is a beautiful thing.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-56000916260452543732018-08-06T17:01:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:02:13.359+01:00IN!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"For we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose."</span></div>
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Romans 8:28</div>
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See that little two letter word there - “IN.” You might not even have noticed it. Some Bible versions don’t have it. But I have always maintained that the ‘IN’ is the most important word in the whole verse. It creates faith that is more than on the surface, faith that can anchor itself through the harshest of storms. Because whatever situation I’m in, or have been in, I know that God; if it is His will; can change it. But I also know that it doesn’t mean He will. Trusting in God means we have to trust that He knows better than us, even when we might disagree.</div>
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In the past, I’ve certainly been the victim of people mis-quoting Bible verses at me, and I don’t even know why. Telling someone that the situation they’re in wouldn’t happen if they had more faith, or that God won’t allow them to suffer, doesn’t create a deep spirituality based on a foundation of God’s truth. It creates false faith that withers and dies when the going gets tough. It creates a faith that doesn’t understand and blames God when suffering occurs. I’m glad that I’ve learnt over the years that suffering doesn’t negate a loving God, because God’s heart breaks when one of His children’s does. So no matter what pain and hurt and heartache I experience in life, I can and will trust in a loving, faithful God, who will work IN all things, and through all things, for the good of my eternal soul.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-38056179297575376952018-08-05T14:05:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:08:43.732+01:00Faith Pt 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMc8OFgBhpSj3SZA7o_NblMqDI9MmkFB-prmcsoJzL2091KcIWatZwtjNLiXuZ7XYTlv72XqKNbRT1cdnijb1nLyUmxcBxHWH81J_AzhCNIp_Tj2zhiaBH2YFI5Ac0mjwO4Tio_YYhU2s/s1600/38474485_2114564021909783_5040040239482011648_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMc8OFgBhpSj3SZA7o_NblMqDI9MmkFB-prmcsoJzL2091KcIWatZwtjNLiXuZ7XYTlv72XqKNbRT1cdnijb1nLyUmxcBxHWH81J_AzhCNIp_Tj2zhiaBH2YFI5Ac0mjwO4Tio_YYhU2s/s320/38474485_2114564021909783_5040040239482011648_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But what happens to your faith when you don’t see things change the way you’ve been praying for them to? What happens when life doesn’t get better in the time you expected it to, or maybe never gets better? Do you keep hoping, keep praying, keep trusting? What if you get to the end of your life, and things haven’t moved an inch? Do you have the faith to hold on? If you pray and pray and pray for God to heal someone, and they die anyway, do you have the foundation and strength to keep trusting? Or is your faith in God reliant on seeing miracles happen in your life and in the lives of those around you?</div>
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Can you believe, can you trust, even when you feel like you have never received an answer to prayer? If we believe in a God that allows us to spend eternity with Him, why would we not expect there to be faithful people who do not see God moving this side of eternity? God has all of time to make up for what happens during your life on Earth. The question is - can you remain faithful and hopeful for a lifetime without seeing the fulfilment of His promises here, trusting that you will receive your answers, your mountains will be moved, and the sea will be parted - in heaven?</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>‘When You don't move the mountains</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>I'm needing You to move</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>When You don't part the waters</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>I wish I could walk through</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>When You don't give the answers</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>As I cry out to You
I will trust,</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>I will trust, I will trust in You.’</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lauren Daigle</span></div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-58384621375886774762018-08-03T22:11:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:13:29.705+01:00Faith Pt 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJIKt8FWspkU1lSGZXOz77YUy4GhrwX2JSW2twmBJ5-dMFPGOzhMVDb5pNkW0p5sBwXS4cn6GWxUHAJICyQVPfSuIiPzvVBc0vuW-e7U2m4ZfdwcdronGwXoqxjMwgENE3V485y_xPxk/s1600/IMG_4751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJIKt8FWspkU1lSGZXOz77YUy4GhrwX2JSW2twmBJ5-dMFPGOzhMVDb5pNkW0p5sBwXS4cn6GWxUHAJICyQVPfSuIiPzvVBc0vuW-e7U2m4ZfdwcdronGwXoqxjMwgENE3V485y_xPxk/s320/IMG_4751.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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These last few days have been so hard. Those who know anything about BPD, or me in general, will know that I struggle a lot with feeling left out, abandoned and rejected. So being sent home early from camp, and then seeing post after post on social media about the wonderful time everyone else had, has been utterly heartbreaking. Had it not been for a dear friend of mine needing me to keep it together over the last few days, I’m sure I would have been an absolute mess. And this evening as we sat outside the hospital in the evening drizzle, a rainbow appeared in the sky.</div>
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It got me thinking. Yes, this last year my life has changed in ways that I never expected it to. I’ve experienced more inner turmoil than I ever thought I was capable of coping with. But this next year? I have no idea what is going to happen. I spend so much time worrying about whether things will ever get better: Will I ever stop feeling this way? Will I ever be able to cope with day to day life again? I never stop and think: what if it does?</div>
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Noah: surrounded by God’s creatures for 40 days in a big boat while the heavens poured out more water than he’d ever seen in his life: he could have focussed on the season he was in. But I’d imagine, knowing and trusting in God, he waited (mostly patiently) for the season to come to an end. Did it make the 40 days any easier? Probably not. But maybe, just maybe, at some point his perspective changed.</div>
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This season I’m in, it’s hard. And no amount of people quoting ‘For I know the plans...’ at me will change that. You see: (and this is where I think some Christians have a misguided belief about the meaning of Jer 29) sometimes God DOES allow hard stuff to happen in our life. Stuff that harms us and makes us vulnerable and hurts us. Stuff that breaks us down and rips our soul or our body apart. Just like he did with Job, and just like he did with Jesus. But does he leave us? No. No matter how much God hides His face, no matter how much the darkness closes in or how much the rain pours, there is always a God who is working unknown in the background; preparing mountains for us to land on in our future.</div>
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And all that hard stuff? The rain and the darkness and the brokenness that lives in our soul? In another season, God will turn that hurt into joy. He will turn darkness into light, brokenness into beautiful healing. Because IN all things, He works for good. So even though right now, life is tough, I cry more than it rains and I spend so, so many nights feeling alone and rejected, I also have faith that maybe one day I won’t. One day, I might stand on mountains again. And that’s okay. A lot can happen in a year.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-80984043592556943792018-08-02T21:17:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:19:21.530+01:00Faith Pt 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwRHnxXJ6nBJ_6BqHjKSMD19Cm8OvP7cih6GO8EMZgX6hTriTdMwsJwupfhFMOH2zww2GJi9Ir7PvfRdGYazTgYFB2CyV3jQwSRPu7VPykcZUhX_mSnXehUJKYX6NyGKTqllKhyeJLyU/s1600/38289126_2111735175526001_6832306456897781760_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="1080" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwRHnxXJ6nBJ_6BqHjKSMD19Cm8OvP7cih6GO8EMZgX6hTriTdMwsJwupfhFMOH2zww2GJi9Ir7PvfRdGYazTgYFB2CyV3jQwSRPu7VPykcZUhX_mSnXehUJKYX6NyGKTqllKhyeJLyU/s320/38289126_2111735175526001_6832306456897781760_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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If this year has taught me anything, it’s that there are some situations that can’t be changed. Moments that once missed, are gone forever. Events that will play out no matter how much you try to avoid them. Conversations that once had, can never be forgotten. And no amount of wishing and hoping can change it. Time is fleeting.</div>
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Opportunities are as permanent as the clouds in the sky. The sun rises and the sun sets, and life goes on. There are so many things I wish I could change. So many emotions and situations I wish I could leave behind.</div>
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At the start of this week, I was so eager to hear the gentle whisper of God’s voice. Maybe He would speak into my soul and remind me of my unique place in His creation. Perhaps He might remind my inner being how much He loved me. Maybe He would heal me or release me of the immense pain I feel inside. Or fill me with supernatural peace and calm that comes only from above. It didn’t happen.</div>
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So now, as this week begins to stumble into the past, I am feeling rather disappointed. The opportunities have passed, I will never live this week again. What’s done is done. I have no idea how to feel, or even to describe the darkness that eats at my core. Everything happens for a reason, though right? Or maybe everything just happens, and we try, in our humanness, to find meaning in it. A year ago, everything was so different. A year ago, I was so different. So I guess, all things considered, no matter how fleeting time is, its effect is seen, felt, and experienced, in the moments like this.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-71808884645301429942018-07-27T17:19:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:21:25.545+01:00React.<div style="text-align: justify;">
I wonder how you react to bad news. Are you someone who immediately worries about others, or how you will be affected, or the sadness of the situation? Maybe you are quick to empathise, or quick to try to solve?</div>
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Me? I tend to internalise everything I hear. I often need a while to process news before I can begin to unpack how I really feel about it. It’s like I have an internal carousel, and every time something happens the news jumps on the carousel, except I have no idea when it’s going to get off again. And while it’s going round and round in my head, I make assumptions about the world and the people in it. So certain things will set off an internal chain-reaction that make me appear to over-react to something others think is insignificant. It’s a massive part of my illness and it’s only recently that I’ve realised how much I do it.</div>
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So, I have to apologise if in the past I’ve over-reacted (or under-reacted) to some news. Perhaps I wasn’t quite ready to process. Perhaps I was over-processing something that spilled out when I heard what you were saying. Perhaps there were just too many things on the carousel, and lots got off at the same time. I’m sorry. There is so much going on inside my head that you will never see. I hope you can be patient with me.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-24032597996068789422018-07-21T17:22:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:23:26.790+01:00Choice.<div style="text-align: justify;">
I made a choice yesterday to take some practical steps towards recovery. It wasn’t easy - it had been a long and stressful day and my mind was working on overload. But I knew that I had to take control. I had to choose well-being in the midst of agonising anxiety and uncertainty. Because I didn’t choose to get ill. I didn’t choose to experience some of the things that I have had to experience. And I know that a lot of my friends who also suffer with mental illness have also been through horrible situations that were neither their choosing nor their fault.</div>
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But today, this moment, we have a choice. Some choose to let anxiety and worry and pain take over. And there is no shame in that. Sometimes you feel like you don’t have the strength to fight against it. But if you can, if you can find within yourself the strength to choose life over death, joy over pain, hope over despair, then you can make it. Choose to take steps, however small, walking or perhaps even crawling, on that road of recovery. You do not walk that road alone. There is hope ahead, my friend. Be kind to yourself. Believe that no matter what you’ve been through, it is not your fault and you can choose to get well again. We’ve got this. 💚</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-77877456636024986122018-07-20T23:25:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:25:46.745+01:00Not Giving Up.<div style="text-align: justify;">
Being totally honest:</div>
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Life is hard right now.</div>
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Having a mental illness is hard.</div>
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Making decisions is hard.</div>
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Dealing with difficult situations is hard.</div>
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Supporting friends and loving them right is hard.</div>
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Not having the time or energy to see my beloved family is hard.</div>
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Not having a job or the ability to do a job is hard.</div>
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Not having enough money in the bank or food in the cupboards is hard.</div>
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Waiting for therapy and dreading it at the same time is hard.</div>
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Not getting enough sleep at night and being too tired each day is hard.</div>
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Knowing people who were once my friend but now don’t know how to talk to me is hard.</div>
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Missing out on events because I just can’t face being there is hard.</div>
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Wanting to do things, then freaking out last minute and staying in bed is hard.</div>
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Dealing with my emotions and thoughts and feelings and anxieties is hard.</div>
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Knowing there are very few people who understand how I feel right now is hard.</div>
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That’s the truth.
But you know what? This time, I’m not gonna give up. I’m not going to become a statistic of mental illness. Cause you know what? It might be hard but I’m strong. And my God is stronger. So no matter how hard life gets, or how much I struggle, I may not be standing but I will lay face down on the Rock that never breaks or falters. And one day, I will stand.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-15454743635123363162018-07-13T14:29:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:29:55.825+01:00Pours.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pxOA2SBzifGcoriSPSl6DWF9XXk9ynqMREC06xsr6jaqoO1HFIHfaF95LVEDw5uQVtjg_4eRkc2lpZtJcUrrHHAhVFVc2QSa-fRoM0Tjem50Zjxwel9QDsd7ka0709mi85d_PdAosOo/s1600/IMG_4595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pxOA2SBzifGcoriSPSl6DWF9XXk9ynqMREC06xsr6jaqoO1HFIHfaF95LVEDw5uQVtjg_4eRkc2lpZtJcUrrHHAhVFVc2QSa-fRoM0Tjem50Zjxwel9QDsd7ka0709mi85d_PdAosOo/s320/IMG_4595.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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The weather has finally aligned with my mood of the week.<br />
I’m never ‘a little bit’ of anything.<br />
Whatever emotion I feel,
I feel it completely.<br />
Overwhelmingly.<br />
Like a tidal wave.<br />
Drowning me.<br />
Drowning out everything else.<br />
I can’t stop it.<br />
Can’t fight it.<br />
It’s so much easier,<br />
To just accept it.<br />
So it never really rains.<br />
It pours.Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-26584899354013442102018-07-04T17:45:00.000+01:002018-09-11T17:45:49.692+01:00Truth.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7JUbpq3uF02yqegEwHlPmvAFjX1heVZOmThPNnym-kD4xUMWbyRu0FZFQZwRIjs1dfTNbxhHH7t28a5Zwbyc6v9HIXKr6hywrDT5-vGk78SAnx8zKgDHCYRhVXmRfierhpkYV3F5JqQ/s1600/36606487_2061139013918951_2688030871616749568_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7JUbpq3uF02yqegEwHlPmvAFjX1heVZOmThPNnym-kD4xUMWbyRu0FZFQZwRIjs1dfTNbxhHH7t28a5Zwbyc6v9HIXKr6hywrDT5-vGk78SAnx8zKgDHCYRhVXmRfierhpkYV3F5JqQ/s320/36606487_2061139013918951_2688030871616749568_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is a truth that I am fighting with at the moment. In all honesty, I think the hardest thing for people to understand about EUPD (or BPD as it is more commonly known) is that I “feel” every emotion on a deeper and more excruciating level than others might. Especially with regards to real or imagined abandonment. This means that at times, when I am not in a good place mentally, I will experience and overreact to the smallest thing, because my illness causes me to believe things are a certain way, when perhaps they’re not. (But I can’t see that.)</div>
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The trouble is being able to recognise when my reaction is BPD based, and not truth based. I’m not trying to be cryptic, an example might be, when in a friendship with someone, if they don’t text in the nature they normally do, or perhaps don’t reply to a text, I will astronomically overread into the situation, believing myself to have annoyed/angered them, and therefore berate myself for my own incompetence and stupidity when actually, perhaps they were texting in a rush or were preoccupied or some other reason I don’t think of at the time.</div>
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I guess what I’m trying to say is that (sometimes) friendships can be really hard for those with BPD. And I guess it can be hard for the ones on the other side as well. When the darkness of mental illness closes in around someone, it can be difficult to know what to say or do for those who are suffering. Sometimes it can be really uncomfortable. So, I just want to say, it’s okay to not have all the answers. It’s okay if you don’t know what to do. But please, I’m begging you, please don’t let your discomfort or awkwardness stop you reaching out to someone. Just a text to say, I’m thinking of you. You’re not forgotten. Comment a 💜 or a *hug* on a post. Let them know you hear them. You see them. It doesn’t have to be big. They may not reply themselves. But sometimes the smallest things can make the biggest difference. In a time when mental illness is all over social media, don’t make things over complicated. A hug or a smile can shine a bright light into someone who can only see the darkness.</div>
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Thanks for listening folks. 🙂</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-14993343638618147072015-03-29T22:57:00.000+01:002015-04-06T23:06:11.892+01:00Dying<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>N.B.</b> I have not mentioned certain details in this post in order to try to respect the grief and lives of those affected by that awful tragedy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the 29th March 2000, I learned about death in a way that has affected me for the rest of my life. Before this moment, death was something that happened to old people, or old animals, or perhaps to people in other countries who didn't have a lot to eat. For a long time after that, it was a daily phantom that followed me around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I guess before I talk about who I became, I must introduce you to who I was. Aged 10 years, and 363 days, I was a tomboyish kind of kid. Growing up in between two brothers does that sometimes. I loved climbing trees, reading books, finding places to hide: anything that kept me out of the spotlight. I was the kind of girl who played football, dug up mud in the playground, sharpened sticks to use as 'weapons', built tree houses and for the most part, hated being treated 'like a girl'. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">I was average build, athletic, ambitious and tough as nails. </span>I gave as good as I got in my regular fights with boys and many of the girls didn't really give me the time of day. I didn't really have friends in Junior school, so I spent a lot of time alone. The school toilets were my refuge at lunchtime and the small cubby hole in the cloakroom was my safety net when I felt threatened during lessons. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wasn't naive. I had already; by this point; spent a disproportionate amount of time in my short 10 years in hospitals for appointments, operations and treatments to get rid of my birthmark that could increase my risk of skin cancer astronomically if left to grow. (I found this out later. At the time I just thought it was because it made me different to others and being different was a bad thing.) But despite all this, I was bright, hopeful, resourceful, and despite pretty much hating school because of the bullying, got on well in class and most of the time, kept out of trouble.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps it was because I felt like an outcast, but I had an overwhelming desire to help, to impress, and to appear useful in the blind hope that my spirit would override the apparent physical flaws that attracted the attention of some people. I didn't like people looking at me, but if they were going to, I preferred it to be because I was doing something of worth. I spent my life "sucking up" to the teachers and adults, and became Library Monitor, PE Cupboard tidy-er, anything to stay off the playground really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, one horrible day just before my 11th birthday, a fire in a flat overnight claimed the lives of three beautiful boys who were pupils/ex pupils of my school. Two of the siblings, although suffering varying degrees of fire-related injuries, survived, (and eventually returned to school.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Suddenly, death was on the doorstep of our school, our community and our lives. As young children, we were forced to face a horrible and unexplainable tragedy. Nothing that we were feeling could compare to the family of these boys, and I was all too aware that there were those who had known the family far better and far longer than I had. But none of us could escape the sadness that presented itself with us every day that they no longer joined us at the school. Each of us had to enter that playground on that dreadful Monday morning, and feel the weight of the sadness and silence that had smothered the usual pre-school playground atmosphere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't remember much of the assemblies. I don't remember much of what went on during classes after that. I know some were offered counselling, but I wasn't worthy to waste the time of those people when others needed it more than me. I was only at the school a short while longer before I went off to Senior school, but it was a period of time that engrained its negativity into my mind, and changed me in a way I would never be able to explain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not long after, just that summer, I experienced my first family death when my Granddad died. But the tears I shed then were partly for my family, and partly out of fear, once again, that death was ever present on my doorstep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A few years later I remember suffering from terrible, terrible nightmares, some about 'Death' coming to get me, (at the time it was just 'him') and about falling, fire, burning, and other equally terrifying thoughts for a 12 year old. Nightmares and bullying became part of my life, and soon after, self-harm followed to cope with everything that was rushing around my mind and spirit as I struggled with becoming a teenager, and dealing with un-spoken emotions, some of which I would not reveal until many many years later in my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Looking back on that time of my life, it is still extremely hard to piece together the ways that it changed me. I know that deep inside, that fear of death has tainted a bit of my soul. I know that there is no way that I will ever be able to erase the dreaded feeling that creeps in through my toes and up to my throat until it chokes me of air, paralysing me and I can do nothing but lay, helplessly on the floor until it subsides. It is a feeling that I have experienced during the most emotional moments of my life, when I felt like my world was once again falling apart. The feeling that I sought to escape every time I reached for a razor blade. The feeling I first got when I realised that death... happens. To young people. To old people. To everyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fifteen years on, from that tragic day, and that time in my life is still extremely hard to talk about. For many years I had an emotional barrier between me and others: I wore a mask and I did not share my innermost thoughts and feelings with anyone. I kept most people away from my heart and kept my "public" face on when with others. But over time, some late-night heart to hearts and hugs from carefully places 'angels' hidden amongst my friends, that has now disappeared almost entirely. Tears, nowadays, seem incredibly close to the surface.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Death, of any kind, makes me feel helpless, weak and ready to cry myself to sleep once again. Funerals of people I have never met are just as emotional as the ones of elderly relatives and friends. The broadcast funerals of TV Characters who aren't even real bring my to real and uncontrollable tears. I cannot bear to see others upset, and crying friends just make me cry. And I cannot help but think that my life, in all the ways it has been affected, has been dictated by that first, unbelievably sad and terrible accident that took three beautiful boys from the lives of those around them. I mean, how can anyone get over something so devastating?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, time is a great healer, and there is hope for a brighter future. We move on, but we will never be the same. I know that I am not. I know that the lives of those who were left behind reflect the love that they had for those boys. I know they would have been proud of the way their family have kept them alive in their hearts and spirits. I hope they always knew how much they were loved. So R.I.P. boys, rest in peace.</span></div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-57009388194929292092014-12-01T12:45:00.001+00:002014-12-01T12:45:47.512+00:00Forever<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u>Day 1 of Advent.</u></div>
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Today is the start of Advent, when we look forward to the coming of Christ, the newborn baby who would one day grow up to change the world forever. But whenever there is a time of looking forward, I always seem to find myself thinking back, reflecting on what has gone before. The last few weeks I have spent a long time pondering about all the things that have led to me being here, doing this and being this person.<br />
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In particular, I keep thinking about one special little boy that I had to say goodbye to nearly five years ago when he was adopted into his forever family. My feelings about him are always so mixed. I will always look back on the time I got to spend with him with a smile, great fondness, love and affection. But when I see updates on him, pictures of him growing and making achievements and enjoying his new life, I can't seem to shake the dull ache in my stomach and the tears in my eye in the knowledge that he will forget about me long long before I ever will him. The truth is he changed my life much more than I did his.<br />
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I guess I must be a pessimist, but all relationships hold that element of knowing that one day, at least one of us will have to say goodbye to the other for good. Whether that be through divorce, death, moving away, illness, etc. There is no relationship on earth in which we know that 'forever' is part of the equation. Humans aren't made for forever. We each hold a few people close to our hearts for a while, but most of my friendships fade when circumstances and distances change. It used to upset me but now I just know it's part of life. People who walk into our lives always have the option to walk out again. But the time you got to spend with them doesn't lose it's significance. It changes who you are, where you go, how you see the world.<br />
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As we look forward to Christmas, and the coming of the newborn Son of God, who exists forever, reigns for ever, and loves forever, we must reassess our own interpretation of what our relationship with Jesus means for our lives. Is he someone we think of often? Rely on often? Talk to often? Today is the start of a brand new day. It's the only day we're guaranteed right now. Let's use it to treasure what needs to be treasured, let go of what needs to be let go, and focus on what should be focussed on at this time.<br />
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Strip back what needs to be stripped back, and remember that the reason for Christmas wasn't to spend thousands of pounds on presents, decorations, Christmas cards, food and drink. It's the start of a relationship. The start of those special memories. Those moments of tears, heartache, and pain. Of forgetting, and remembering, and knowing that spending time with someone, no matter how short, can change your life forever.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-52251473138481344102014-11-10T01:16:00.001+00:002014-11-10T01:17:01.361+00:00Lost<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's been almost two weeks since my last blog post, which I have to say generated a lot more conversation with people than I thought it would. I forget sometimes that some people actually pay attention to what I post on here or on Facebook. A lot of the time it seems like I'm typing away to an empty screen.</div>
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I think that reflects a lot of how I feel about my life. I try my hardest to do the right thing, to help people, to be there when people need me. I often get it wrong and am always letting people down and sometimes it is weeks between when a friend contacts me for a meet up and when I actually get back to them. I know that I neglect a lot of people in my life because I'm too busy running around making other people happy. I'm sorry if you're one of those people. I'm going to try really hard to not neglect you; but please forgive me in advance.</div>
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I don't even know what I'm trying to say here to be honest. Feel free to give up now if you wish. I just, I'm currently trying to get my head around a conversation I just had with a male friend who yesterday I vowed I would never again speak to or let back into my heart. We had a falling out (of sorts) a few months ago and since then things have been pretty crappy. I miss him like crazy. I see things that I want to give him, laugh at things we used to laugh at together, hear songs that remind me of our friendship, and it breaks my heart. So for the sake of being able to move on and not be hurt any more by our falling out, I felt the need to put that our friendship behind me, and walk away. Yesterday I felt like I had just reached the end of the road.</div>
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The decision I made yesterday to do that was not easy, and it hasn't come quickly. This is a person who has been in my life for almost two years, and someone with whom I believe I have a connection that goes far beyond the realms of friendship or love or being like siblings. It's not romantic, its not about being together every day, but in its essence its about understanding what it feels like to be the other person. That's as good as I can get at explaining it. No-one understands it: at least no-one I have tried to talk to about it. Just me and him. It's something special and it's something unique, and I believed; until recently, that it was wholly God given. We've had our disagreements in the past, but we've always managed to put them behind us and move on. This one though, just seemed to be the end. Things have been difficult for a few months, and rather than continually putting myself through the agony of hoping it would get better, I decided to just say: enough is enough.</div>
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That was yesterday. And today is today. And today it seems, God had other plans. Whether He was waiting for me to hit rock bottom, I don't know. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But today, for one reason or another. We started talking. (Messaging.... it's the modern day equivalent.) At first it was awkward. I felt like we were both talking from anger or frustration or from not really trusting the other. And we both said lots of things that perhaps we should have said before and didn't. And then gradually, slowly, the sharp and bitter messages melted away, and the true hurt and heart came through into the conversation. And all of a sudden, as if in a flash, things seemed to be okay again. I felt it inside my chest before my head engaged with it. And I realised that in all this time, I was hurting so much that it didn't really occur to me that he was hurting too.</div>
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I've been living in my head, and everything he's done recently I've felt a personal stab. I guess when I don't talk to someone, and they don't talk to me, I automatically assume that the other person is thinking the worst of me. It seemed like he wanted nothing more to do with me. And he probably would have been justified in thinking so. I don't know. But now it just seems like everything that we were not talking about, everything that has hurt us both - if we had acted out of love, if we had made a single move differently; had talked; none of this would have happened. Who knew.</div>
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And now I'm feeling a bit lost and as if I just dreamt the last few hours. I have dreams every night. And I've probably dreamt him several times in the last few months. I've searched and longed and clung to any small or minute (or non-existent) clue that he might be missing me too. Thinking about me too. Wanting to talk to me. And if I'm honest, it destroyed me. And now I have this 3 hour conversation that is all mine. And I have no idea what to do with it. And I'm almost terrified to go to bed in case when I wake up tomorrow this was a dream. Where do I place a friendship and companionship in my life that I've spent the last few months trying to cut out and forget about? My head says one thing and my heart another. Everyone who has seen or spoken to me in the last month knows how hard I have tried to move on and put this behind me. And now it's back. It's like a lost treasure that has been searched and searched for and never found. And then, after years and years of being missing: it's within reaching distance: it's right in front of me. Part of me has missed it. And part of me thought I could live without it. Which part do I listen to?</div>
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I love him. With more than just my head and my heart. He's more than just my big brother or my friend or my fellow depressive confidante: he's like someone God sent me. A shining light in my darkness. A whisper in my ear. A moment of peace in the storm. A hug. A kind word. A wink or a kiss on the head. He's me. But he's also my worst enemy. The person that if I let him in, has the potential to hurt me the most, destroy me, ruin my day, my week, my month. Drive me to the edge of my darkness. He's my dream and my nightmare. Because he's human. And he makes mistakes, just like I do. He gets frustrated, just like I do. He gives up, just like I do. Can I ever truly walk away? I honestly don't know. And I'm not even sure I want to.</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-59228978084950140832014-10-27T22:59:00.000+00:002014-10-27T23:31:08.425+00:00Free<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://movie-hound.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Freedom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://movie-hound.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Freedom.jpg" height="120" width="200" /></a><b>N.B.</b> If I'm entirely honest I have no idea why I have chosen today of all days to write a blog. It's been pretty uninteresting.</div>
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I can't believe it's been so long since I have poured my mind out on here. Way back in August, when I took the kids to Soul Survivor, I was in a particularly vulnerable place. I had completed a week of mission at the church I work for, and it had been an absolute success, but the effort of spending so much time around so many people had really taken it out of me. I spent a week in bed/ not doing much in order to recover and then whipped off to Soul Survivor with a load of teenagers ready for God to do some awesome stuff. I always have that expectation at Soul Survivor, no matter how wrong it is, that something will connect with me (or with the young people) more so than a normal church service or bible study or spending time with Christian friends. Everything just seems so much... more.</div>
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Anyway, the theme of the week's teaching was about friendships & relationships (with God and with others). At first it didn't particularly strike me or affect me but there was one particular moment, during the ministry time in one of the evening sessions that got to me. I tend to try and keep my own emotions and feelings in check when watching over the teenagers, but this particular moment I could do nothing but curl up into a ball on the floor and cry my heart out. I was touched by young people (past and present) coming over to pray for me, but it was then in that moment that I decided to trust in God to heal me of the thoughts, feelings and mental health issues I had been having up until that moment in my life. I wanted so much to rid myself of all the darkness that clouded my soul, wanted God to shine a torch into all my dark places and just clean everything out. I made a decision, however wisely or not, to stop taking my anti-depressant medicine that had over previous months worked it way up to the maximum dose. I felt I just needed to trust.</div>
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My lack of withdrawal symptoms for the first few weeks I took as a sign I was doing the right thing. I enjoyed two whole weeks with Dan, adventuring in the Lake District for a week, and then seeing friends and family in and around Essex. When September 1st came around, I thought I was prepared for whatever the world was going to throw at me. How very wrong I was.</div>
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Things at work and home quickly got stressful, upsetting, and a number of things threw me off the track I thought I was sailing down. My so-called recovery ground to a gut-wrenching halt, and I was suddenly taking tender baby steps each day, just to keep myself from going back to relying on drugs to keep my mood stable. The withdrawal symptoms I had experienced last time I stopped taking my medication came thick and fast, broken sleep, exhaustion, vivid dreams, tearfulness... I began arguing with everyone and anyone, I started taking everything personally, because sensitive to everything, and once again began crying to myself whenever I was alone. And still I put off going back to the GP. I had, in the summer, planned to go back to her and announce myself cured by the power of the Almighty. All of a sudden, the doubts began to creep in, and I found myself more than once heading towards the GP surgery to make an appointment before dragging myself home to bed again. I decided I would wait until this darkness had passed, and I was truly better, before going back. </div>
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A month later, and the improvements have been slow. The symptoms of depression have slowly taken over the withdrawal symptoms, and no matter what I do to try and motivate myself, every day is a struggle. My bad moods are a vicious cycle, causing me to withdraw from many around me, which makes me feel worse, which makes me less likely to want to spend time with people. I have been forced to make some decisions that have made me feel worse, but that I know are best in the long run. I have done some stupid things in lame attempts to make myself feel better. I have tried to guard my broken heart by avoiding those who may damage it further, but in doing so have cut out some special relationships from my life. I know only too well that anything good comes at a cost, and right now it is a cost I am not willing to take; that I just can't afford to take.</div>
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I know He that is in me is stronger than these tears, these nightmares, this darkness that is drowning me. Every day when I wake up and feel the same heaviness sitting on my chest, I yearn for the peace that I know only God can give. I will not let go of my Saviour because the depression is shouting louder. It's hard. It's bloody hard. And I am not strong. I am a feeble, pathetic excuse for a human. But I will not let the doubts take me from me what He has promised. My prayer now remains the same as it was on that night in August - "Jesus, set me free."</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892059573324331338.post-90818288142900611252013-12-03T23:24:00.001+00:002018-09-11T17:47:36.314+01:00Chances (Or Why I Walk Slow, Forgive Quick and Love Loads)<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>N.B.</b> I have depression. Clinical Depression. I have since I was a teenager, but I only really sought out medical help when I was studying at Uni and everything just got far too much to handle: March 2012. Almost 10 years after I probably first began displaying symptoms of depression, I finally plucked up the courage and the know-how to visit my Doctor and get medical help. I've been to counselling. Several different ones actually. I've never really found it to be very helpful. In fact, I've had late night MSN conversations with friends that have aided me more than counselling ever has. But that's just the way of the world, isn't it? The reason I am telling you this is that I have never really publicly spoken out about it before. And I guess if someone wants to understand me and the way my brain works... it's pretty important that you understand that simple fact first and foremost. I'm not looking or asking or wanting sympathy. I just think that it's time that everyone started being more honest with one another... even if it is from behind their computer screen.</div>
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I love to walk. I guess that comes in handy, not being able to drive. But I don't mean walking is my preferred method of travel: I regularly use buses, trains, taxis and other people to get around. What I mean is, I love to just... walk. Wander. Hike. Meander. Dilly-Dally. Wherever and whatever I'm doing, I like to take my sweet time about it. Especially if I have no fixed schedule. There is a art in walking slowly. In observing every aspect of your surroundings. The birds. The trees. The clouds. The sun. The warmth. The breeze. The bugs on the ground. The traffic, or lack thereof. The <i>feel</i>.<br />
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There are some days when to wander around outside is like you are walking around in heaven. To be in God's world, but to know that it is only temporary, and yet to appreciate every aspect of that perfect day that God has gifted into your hands. He has placed you exactly where you are, and in whatever difficulty or circumstance you are facing... God has given you a chance to just BE. When I am walking slowly, I am not under pressure. I am not at anyone's beck and call. I am not being summoned, or bothered, or interrupted. It is just me and God, taking a stroll. A chance to chat over those ideas and dreams in my head, or listen to the one's in God's. A time to seek forgiveness, guidance, direction, calling and gifting. A time to rethink. A time to let go. Yes, walking slowly is an art form, but that is why I do it.</div>
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Some people find it easy to hold grudges. I don't. In fact, I find it's more effort than it's worth. If you hold someone's mistakes against them, you are basically saying that the relationship you had with them; whatever it was; is not as important as the stupid or horrible thing they did or said. It also comes from an assumption that the person is so perfect that they are not going to do anything that hurts or upsets you. And let me be frank: there is NO-ONE in your life who will never upset and hurt you. In fact, those closest to us are the most likely to hurt us. Why? Because they are whom we place on pedestals, assuming that they are so awesome they are infallible. Who is infallible but God?<br />
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I'm not advocating letting people walk all over you because they are imperfect and they are bound to hurt you. But if someone does something that upsets or hurts you: Talk to them about it. And then forgive them. And then move on. Holding on to our grudge and our hurt and our bitterness diseases none but our own heart. You may need help to forgive. You will most definitely need prayer. But the more we practice it in our everyday lives, the easier it becomes. I have had a number of people who have been very close to me do things that have really upset me. But I have learned to forgive each and every one of them, because I am incapable of holding grudges. They sit like an ugliness in my heart and a heaviness in my chest and it causes all normal function and life to cease until I let it go. So I have learned to forgive quickly. It's just something that has to be done.</div>
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The longer I work as a youth worker, the more I realise that I am incapable of not loving a child. There is something that happens inside of me, the minute I connect with someone, I feel a loving and caring feeling towards them. (Not in a romantic way....) Sometimes, it's from the minute I see their shining little smile looking up at me. For others, the love hits me the minute I see something of their character, or strength, or passion, or hopes, or dreams, or fears. But there is always something... something of God that I see in each and every child and young person I meet. I love that. I love that I love my job. I love that I love my young people. It doesn't mean that they won't annoy me, or frustrate me, or even make me angry. There are definitely days when I feel like throwing in the towel. But then I think about one smile, one laugh, one sparkling or tearful eye, and I remember. To feel loved and accepted for who you are: Surely it is the single most important and desperate search in every young person's life. And ultimately, the answer to that struggle is found in God. But what chance does a young person have in finding that in God if they don't see it in the ones who tell them about God? So I love all my young people. The ones I see weekly. The ones I see monthly. The ones I've met once. The ones I will pass on my way somewhere. The friends of the ones I meet and work with. I love them all. Because God does. What other reason is there?</div>
Amihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16172446449838555020noreply@blogger.com1