Lonely but at Peace

A few weeks ago I had the deepest feelings of loneliness I remembered having in a very long time. I cried and cried my heart out to God. I did feel sad but it didn't feel like depression as much as just this aching emptiness. I was supposed to go to this event with a friend and she backed out of it at the last minute. It was a "Wellness Picnic" hosted by the chiropractor/wellness place I go to. And it was too last minute to ask anyone else, beside the fact that not very people in my life are interested in this sort of thing. For almost nine weeks I have battled internally if I should even be going to this place. Since I started going my anxiety and OCD tendencies (obsessive thoughts) have gotten way worse. I have been extremely ambivalent and pulled in two different directions, wondering if on the one hand I am going overboard with my health concerns (that are now obsessions) but yet wanting to take care of this body God has given me and seek solace and freedom from my many maladies. I have felt utterly ALONE in this process because everyone in my life is on one side of the fence or the other (the majority thinking this place has made me more anxious and obsessed and I should stop going).

SO the Saturday of the picnic when my friend (my one "health nut" friend who lives nearby) backed out, I was torn. My parents were in town and I knew I'd see them tomorrow but felt I "should" be with them instead of going to some thing where I didn't know anyone. I did end up going and it was okay. The talk on "Spine Fitness" was good and I picked up some tips. But I didn't meet anyone my age in my situation as I'd hoped. In fact there weren't very many people there at all. I quickly got over my extreme sadness after the event and during work at the group home that evening.

But I still struggle with this intense loneliness off and on. Mostly due to this health battle, depression/anxiety battle, and what faith/God has to say about it. Feel quite misunderstood and discouraged by both the people who seem to know me and care about me best AND by these new people who I feel have some hidden knowledge and I'm struggling whether or not to trust them. Also because I don't have a significant other with which to share these intense struggles. :(

I don't feel lonely very often because I am an introvert. Being alone is something I love. Even when I was seriously dating I had to be alone many nights a week (this drives a boyfriend mad, I realize.) I am so dragged down when I am around lots of noise, commotion, and chaos also because I am an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) (See one of my links to right if you're wondering what that is.)

A blog friend of mine said to talk about my birthday party. I wanted to put up pics but I am house sitting so I don't have them handy. I had a really crazy weekend (half of the events I'd planned ended up being cancelled due to a 3-day migraine--my body's way of telling me "too much!" I suppose). But Sunday I was feeling better and had a birthday get together at a nearby place called Chatterbox Pub (I planned the event myself). I had written to God in my journal earlier, "I am going to have caffeine and maybe a little alcohol because I want to be like my outgoing, extroverted friends." And, being that I am extremely sensitive to caffeine because I no longer have it, my one cup of tea had me wired for the evening! We had a great time. I couldn't believe about twenty of my friends showed up. Less than two years and a few months ago, I knew only two of these people. I am very blessed that God directed me to the church I am at now (Woodland Hills) and these wonderful people. We had yummy food, played games and of course the best part: karaoke! Only a very few people were actually interested so that was a bummer, but we still had a good time. After there was only me and few people left, we decided to leave, but I still felt insatiable like I wished I could keep singing the whole night. I knew it had to do with caffeine and my love for singing, but this energy and desire kind of scared me. That night I ended up awake until 4:30 a.m. the next day but I didn't even have a migraine the next day. Thank you God!

During my party I didn't have any of the obsessions about food or health and really was able to relax with my wonderful friends. Even the food I had didn't affect me negatively (like most restaurant food does). Hallelujah!

After that night, I felt a bit of a let down. Because as always I was searching for something to fill me up. Of course it wasn't wrong to go out and have fun...but I can't really get into that here. I spent a few days with my parents in WI and that was good. Now I am house/dog-sitting for some friends of mine and again feel kind of lonely but at the same time glad to have it quiet and relax some.

Lots of thoughts and some neck and hand pain (from typing) but I am so glad to be at peace now.

How Change Affects Me

I haven't written in a while because mostly, I think, what's the point? I barely understand myself, why should I even try to put it into words for other people to try and understand me, that is, IF people even read what I write.

I am an extremely sensitive person (Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person is amazing, describes me well and has really made an impression on my life) and lately I have been very touched by life's changes.

I was talking to my counselor the other day and explaining how in the last couple weeks all this stuff happened: my bro Greg and sis-in-law Sarah suddenly had twins and moved from Texas to my neighborhood; my younger bro Tim came back suddenly from Germany for surgery and went back a few days ago; I got a teaching job for the fall; I am beginning grad school; my oldest brother Nate and his fiancée are getting married in a few months and want to start having kids ASAP; I found out my dog is dying and how that's affecting my parents is really tearing my up (not to mention how I already worry about them); within a few hours of each other, I found out a dear person in my life had a second miscarriage AND that a couple who I led youth with at my old church were involved in a horrific incident in which they were both shot (the wife died)...and it goes on.

Not to mention how much has happened over the last few years that I am still trying to get a handle on, both with me AND the people close to me in life. One thing with me is that I feel SO deeply and this has proven a blessing and curse.

I was so sick after hearing about my friend who lost his wife that I went through a phase (few days) of feeling guilty if I even tried to make myself happy. The thought: ("How is it okay that I am happy when my friend is suffering so much?") I struggle with this immensely when I hear of tragedies. That's why the news is so hard to watch. What's the point? I can DO NOTHING so I feel horrible and guilty a lot.

The good news: I have been feeling better after these incidences and have started to reframe my thoughts. I know my friends and loved ones wouldn't want me to suffer like that. And as my counselor said, we will all have horrific things in our life. That makes me remember when my brother Tim had his life-threatening motorcycle accident. While I felt the worst pain of my life, I felt I had a role so that's how I kept going. I knew I had to be there for my family. But with others' tragedies, I somehow feel it is my role to suffer because they are suffering and if I stop going crazy, then that is not fair to them.

I know it's messed up; that's what depression and anxiety can do to a person. (See how it's kind of an extreme form of empathy?) And I know it is spiritual too. My Lord doesn't want me to suffer this way and he can comfort people more than I ever could. That alone is a good thought and eases my burdens. Satan definitely wants me to be depressed about all these tragedies and wants to spur on all these lies in my head. Yes, yes I know all this. But for some reason, as I get older, I realize life isn't getting any better as far as bad news goes.

Jesus, can you please come back soon?

And now I am in over my head with the "sad state of American health care" (a new obsession: good or bad, I am not sure, but that's for another entry...)

What if I am Never Healed?

I recently finished this book. There are some profound things in here. I have always admired Lincoln because I believe we are very similar. He also has given me hope. If I, someone with depression, could achieve something an iota of what he achieved while suffering, I would consider my life great. Probably the most profound thing was found on page 156. The author, Joshua Wolf Shenk, states, (bolded, mine):

Many popular philosophies propose that suffering can be beaten simply, quickly, and clearly. Popular biography often expresses the same view. Many writers, faced with unhappiness of a heroic figure, make sure to find some crucible in which that bad feeling melted into something new. Lincoln's melancholy doesn't lend itself to such a narrative. No point exists after which the melancholy dissolved...Whatever greatness Lincoln achieved cannot be explained as a triumph over personal suffering. Rather it must be accounted for as an outgrowth of the same system that produced that suffering. This is not a story of transformation but one of integration. Lincoln didn't do great work because he solved the problem of his melancholy. The problems of his melancholy was all the more fuel for the fire of his great work.

This was not something I heard for the first time, but an idea that has been rolling over into my head these past few months (and maybe even years): Can I live a successful life with depression? Or do I continually feel I need to eradicate depression from my life before I can live?

Well the truth is that I already am. That is, I already am living with depression. I have no choice at this point. This was made even more real to me after listening to Greg Boyd's sermon (I listened to the pod cast since I missed the service.) It was entitled "Communion in the Wilderness." Based on Luke 22:7-20, the Communion Supper, Boyd talked about the space in between when we take communion and when we finally arrive in heaven. He called it the Wilderness, like the Israelites experienced before they arrived in the Promised Land. He had a member of the church, Scott, come up and talk about his experience with MD (muscular dystrophy). Scott talked about how his whole life people would "pray over him" for healing, but he was never healed. In fact, his MD just worsened. Now Scott has come to the point where he has accepted his MD and when people ask if they can pray for him, he kindly says, "Thanks, but I don't believe that is what God has for me at this point."

Wow! Like Scott, I have been told in so many words that my life would be so much more amazing if I was healed, in my case, from depression. NO kidding??!!!?? I have always struggled thinking I have lack of faith because I continue to suffer. Like Scott, I often felt people were saying it was MY fault that I wasn't healed.

On the other hand, am I just giving in to this depression because I am too weak to fight it?

Because of what GOd has been saying to me personally and through this book, this sermon and through the words of many people who, like me, haven't found supernatural healing, I have come to believe this: It is okay that I suffer from depression; and that I may have to take meds my whole life. Each time my depression gets better , I often think, this will be the last time. But now I am starting to think, each time I go through another depression, I will come out a stronger person. And without my depression, I wouldn't be the sensitive, bright, caring person that I am.

Not saying, I wouldn't take away my suffering or that of others' in a heartbeat. But what choice have I right now, except to live in and through what has been given to me? And who knows, maybe like Lincoln, I will accomplish something great, and my depression will be a part of that.

Car accidents, earthquakes, and my Job as a Caregiver

Yesterday I awoke to see that I had a missed call from my mom. I remember hearing it ring as I was just beginning to fall asleep the night before. So I immediately thought something bad happened since the call was from 10 pm and my mom knows I got to sleep early. But she almost always leaves a message; this time she didn’t. And when it’s bad news, it’s a sinister voice saying, “Hi honey. Please call when you can.” I’ve heard that voice one too many times. The more sinister and firm, usually the more serious the occasion. So of course, I was nervous. I called and got no response from either Mom or Dad's cell phones, so my head started spinning. I was so worried something horrible had happened. Luckily my mom called a couple minutes later. Sure enough my brother Greg was in a car accident on his way home from work the night before but he is okay. I was still so worked up and anxious I could barely calm down and started crying on the phone with my mom not even noticing. (Ever since Christmas night, tears have come on suddenly, forcefully. When they start, it is like a warm blanket cascading down. So needed and comfortable at first. I have to let out all that pain, that pain so real, raw, indescribable pain. I can’t even put into words. There was no tragedy, just an imagined one, but everything comes back so easily for me. Probably for most people that have had a loss, an almost-loss, or some sort of traumatizing event happen to them. These get relived through little things, like phone calls and voices. They plague and imprint your mind and you can never forget. Add on to that the fact that I simply cry easily and get down extremely quickly. Call it a season. Call it depression. Call it Brittany. Whatever. I go through periods where I am more dried up; now is not one of those periods.)

Anyway, I also called Greg but not on an impulse. It was a carefully planned event. Should I say painfully thought-over. That’s my mind for you: What if he answers? What if he doesn’t? What am I going to be doing while I talk to him? If I don’t do something at the same time, I will be late to work. What if we talk too long? What if I say the wrong thing? But my phone is dead; maybe it won’t be charged enough to talk. Maybe I shouldn’t call him. I’ll probably be bothering him. If I don’t, what kind of sister am I? Why didn’t he call me after the accident?

Finally, I got my breakfast ready and told my thoughts to shut up because they were still going. He answered after the first ring and immediately said, “Hi, how have you been doing?” as if nothing had happened. My brother Greg is always one who gives. When we talk, he hardly ever talks about himself. And, I am one who, when given a listening ear, can never shut up. But today, I didn’t want to focus on this pain. How dare I turn his scary accident into my own problem? Augh! I hate when I do that. So I didn’t mention me, but kept probing about how he was. I knew it was better for me that way. He assured me he was fine so that was good to hear, but I was still so anxious and troubled. He told me a little bit about the accident that involved four vehicles. His car was totaled, and so were some of the others but everyone was okay. I should be praising God, right? I tried to amidst my soft, cracking voice and brewing tears. I could barely eat my breakfast. Before he hung up, he said “Well, I am so glad to hear you are doing okay.” As if I were the one in the accident. But he was positive and I tried to feel it too. Maybe I was okay. If I just talked myself into it…I knew I could change these thoughts, this horrible sinking feeling in my gut. It just got deeper and the nausea grew. But I forced down the cereal and coffee as I said “I love you” to Greg and hung up.

Believe it or not, I had a pretty good day after that-once I got to work. Yesterday, I worked with my friend Maddie. She is a young woman with special needs who lives at home with her parents and siblings. It has its challenges, but I think it’s one of the best jobs in the world. I knew Maddie would want to know all about my family. She always gets my brothers mixed up (who doesn’t, though?). “How’s Nate doing? Is he the one in Germany?” “Nope remember you met Nate and Kat when there were in town over Christmas.” “Oh yeah! How are they?! They are so nice. I mean so sweet! Can you tell them I said hi?”

It’s hard to hang out with Maddie, take care of her, help her and learn from her, when I am so buried in my thoughts. But, luckily, I force myself to. I take her out to the library, book stores, coffee shops, plays, and her favorite: the animal shelter. I love seeing how she responds to different situations and how personable she is with complete strangers (of course, that can be dangerous, so I’m there to redirect her if needed.) But if I am ever too afraid to ask for something, no worries, Maddie has few inhibitions. She doesn’t worry about what people think of her. I have a lot to learn.

Of course, Maddie is quite vulnerable. I know she gets sad too. In my role helping people with disabilities, I have connected with them probably the deepest when I am sad. I don’t want to say my depression is a gift, but I know that there is nothing like crying with someone and truly feeling his or her pain. Yesterday, we talked a little bit about the earthquake in Haiti. That particular subject had been haunting me the past day and I was still feeling down from the morning occurrence so I didn’t really feel like talking about it. Luckily, Maddie’s soothing chatter turned elsewhere and quickly (which is quite common).

I enjoyed my time with her the rest of the day. And also, at ACR later in which I just did a short shift at one of the two homes where I work. Some people with depression can’t work. I am the lucky one. I work to survive. At least in combination with other much-needed things like a faith and spirituality that consumes me, healthy food, enough water, exercise, psychotherapy and a strong community of friends. In my role as teacher and caregiver, I am distracted, able to put my mind and body to use and not focus on myself and my sadness.

I am extremely affected by sad stories in the news or from family, friends, etc., so with the recent events in Haiti, I have been as down as ever, but not necessarily joyless. Sometimes, I wonder, as I walk into a classroom of bouncy teens, or giggly, squirrelly first graders, or as I look into the deep eyes of one of the residents, Shouldn’t the world stop? How can I be giving a bath or teaching about the Civil War when there are people dying, gasping for air under feet of rubble, crying out for relief. And as Greg Boyd said, will probably never be found because of their lack of resources in that already-impoverished country. But, no, life doesn’t stop. And, as I always try to do, I put myself in the shoes of those I serve. How are they thinking? How can I make life better for them? Life goes and on and will continue to go on in Haiti, but also here. So I need to stay in the moment and be here for these innocent children/adults who are dealing with this tragic news in their own way, or maybe not-maybe they have no idea but I need to make life comfortable for them. How is this possible when I have a hard time caring for myself, that I can be so focused on others? But this thinking is what is actually the most freeing for me, the times I feel most liberated from my depression.

Comfort Ye Others Just as You are Comforted

Last night I went to get an hour-long full body massage with hot stone therapy at a place nearby my house. I got a half-off deal in the mail! It was amazing! I'm glad I allowed myself to take care of myself that way. When she was doing my neck and shoulders she found I had knots up and down both sides of my neck that went all the way to the base of my skull. No wonder I've been in so much pain!

Anyway, the hot stones were the best because I was so cold, especially my poor bony fingers! I had so many knots and so much tension that she went an extra 15 minutes. I was able to really relax except the lotion she put on was a bit intense for my nose so I got a little headache. But people that are "too uncomfortable" to get massages like this don't know what they are missing!

I don't know what it is about me but I crave this skin on skin contact. I've always loved massage and got my first professional full body massage in high school when we used to have them included on my mom's insurance! I realized immediately that professional massages, just the ambience of it-everything-, was one of the only ways I can completely relax.

To get deep and spiritual, receiving a massage helps me connect with my body and realize again how beautiful I am. Also, just to be taken care of for once, ahhh, so nice. As I lay there yesterday, I thought of how I do physical therapy and massage/lotioning with the guys I take care of at the group home. I'm always worried I am doing it wrong, that maybe he is not comfortable. With the residents, they don't often communicate whether they are or are not comfortable. Because I received comfort yesterday as the receiver of massage, I was able to realize that yes, maybe I DO do a good job with the guys and maybe they enjoy my sloppy untrained attempts at PT and massage. More than that, though, I realize like my massage therapist, my first concern is for the other person.

Probably the best thing is helping my one resident get into bed at night. (Let's call him Cal.) Cal has a Parkinson's-like condition which makes him extremely exhausted and basically unresponsive as the day goes on. I just ache for him because he is so sleepy and often longs for his bed. I know all too well the feeling of being SO tired and having no energy to go through the process of getting to bed. Once Cal is finally all briefed, pajama-ed, lotioned and teeth-brushed, the next task is to get him to stand up from his wheelchair and take a few painful steps toward his bed, open and waiting for him. I, being a lover of my bed, can totally relate to his comfort in finally collapsing. Unfortunately, Cal is so weak that I have to reposition his rigid 150-lb body so that-to me-he looks comfortable and so that I, too, can receive comfort. Sometimes this is tough and requires him to stand and reposition himself a few more times (a process of a few minutes). Finally, finally he is looking cozy and I pull the sheet up, making sure it covers him evenly and then the comforter, tucking it under his droopy chin. I just see the release in his face and I feel it deep within. Rest. I know he's comfortable and at peace and that's the best feeling in the world.

To have that done to you every so often is great. That's why life is so beautiful. I am able to give because of the gifts Christ gives through others, whether it is a professional massage with hot stones, hugging and crying with a close friend, or a tiny child that you've known for less than a minute suddenly put her little hand in yours.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in your patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. 2 Cor. 1:3-7