Do you know how you can understand something even if on some level you know you really don’t understand it? Then one day something happens and suddenly you get it. You honestly understand it. That just happened to me a few moments ago.
Anyone following my blog knows about the circumstances regarding my neighbors. In a previous post I wrote, My Outer Limit, I talked about how God had enabled me to keep enduring their treatment until I had gone past my limits of what the old me would take from another person. For those who haven’t read that post, I talked about how we all have a limit, a line drawn in the sand that we won’t let someone go beyond. Phrases like, “If you ever . . . ” or “I’ve reached my limit with . . .” or “I’ve had all I can stand and I can’t stand any more!!” come to mind.
Since I wrote that post nothing has changed with the neighbors because they will not change. It doesn’t matter to me because that’s between them and God. What matters is how I’ve changed. So as they went about their normal harassment all day and all night, some days I’d start to say, “God, I’ve about reached my limit with them.” I’d stop myself before I got past calling on God’s name. I realized I had gone past my limits and was still in my outer limits. It is in this area that I find I have no limits because I’ve never been here before. This is brand-new territory for me. There are no lines drawn in the sand. It would be equivalent to saying there is an end to infinity. It’s an oxymoron.
For reasons I cannot comprehend, the weekends have always been the worst. More evil machinations abound. I’ve done the best I know how to change my part of it by asking God to enable me to live on the weekends the way I do during the weekdays.
In the past, partly because of a week’s worth of constant interrupted sleep each night and mostly because I didn’t want to have to face what they put me through on the weekends, I’d stay up as late as possible on Friday nights so I could spend as much time in bed on Saturday. This action on my part would mean I’d be up all night Saturday and sometimes all day on Sunday, too. I’d be too wired, too nervous, too anxious to be able to relax enough so my meds would work and I could go to bed and sleep as much as possible.
For a long time I wouldn’t admit to myself that I was hiding out in my bed. I finally did admit it after I began basically sticking to my normal schedule on Saturdays. Sundays I still spend a lot of time in bed. “One day at a time” applies here — first Saturdays are conquered and then Sundays!! :)
This past weekend was the worst it’s been in a long time. I have never felt such hatred directed toward me. It was as if I could feel it trying to enter into my home like venom trying to poison me. I was sick Sunday, Monday and most of yesterday. I was not physically ill nor was it the physical illness that often, for me, comes hand-in-hand with the mental/emotional illnesses I have. This was different. As my best sister said to me on the phone yesterday, “You were poisoned.”
I slept and rested last night. Truly slept and truly rested. It was wonderful!! It was magnificent!! It was a gift from God that I asked for in a way I don’t believe I’ve asked before. When God comes through, He really comes through. Jesus does not do things halfway.
The evil schemes of the enemy of our souls and of my neighbors was fierce today. One neighbor gets so upset when she can’t awaken me. Please remember these are people who have banged on my bedroom wall and screamed at me through the bedroom wall when I’ve been wide awake in the living room reading a book, when I’ve been in bed reading a book, when I’ve been in other rooms doing things one has to do and when I’ve been in bed talking to God before going to sleep. Apparently my very existence angers these people. It’s sad on so many levels. One sad level is the fact that they have never taken the time to get to know me. I’ve tried by being kind to them and by giving them opportunities to know me. Needless to say, it has not worked. They have accepted my gifts, my kindness and my friendliness but they have not accepted me.
Another thing the neighbor(s) do is whenever I shut and lock my front doors for the night, they really pour it on. Darkness and evil have always gone hand-in-hand. Since they are bullies, they are really cowards underneath. Cowardly people who are evil perform their evil actions when they feel protected by the cover of darkness.
This evening before I shut and locked my front doors, one of the neighbors began doing what she usually saves for after sunset. The ones she eggs on joined her. Bullies need to have others on their side because they are truly afraid underneath and need the support of others in order to do their bullying.
I couldn’t help but chuckle because it is so ridiculous!! When it didn’t end after a few hours I knew I had to talk with God. I quoted Scripture about Who He is and who I am in Him. I started talking to my God in my living room and continued the conversation as I walked into another room and kept talking to Him as I was doing what I needed to do.
As I continued talking — whispering actually, so I couldn’t be overheard by the neighbors since the walls are so thin — it dawned on me. I finally got it by the time I sat back down in my chair in the living room. By talking — or whispering — my thought processes as they progressed I found the Truth.
This is what life is!! This is what each day of our life is all about!!
I know this. I know the Scriptures where Jesus said, “In this world you will have troubles; but be of good cheer. I have overcome the world.” I know the Scripture where Jesus said, “If they treat the Master this way, how much worse will they treat the servant?” I’ve had to memorize Scripture as a child, both in the denomination I was born into and at home as commanded by my dad.
Yet it took eight out of the ten going on eleven years I’ve lived here to be forced to endure, to learn how to persevere, to stay and obey God instead of saying, “To heck with this!! I’m outa here!!” Eight years of being “rubbed the wrong way” by these sandpaper people whom God put in my life for the purpose of teaching me, growing me up and rubbing off all the rough spots on this vessel of clay which He created.
Eight years of questions, eight years of doubt, eight years of complete faith, eight years of total trust. Eight years of depression, anger, fear, PTSD, anxiety, nervousness, tension like you wouldn’t believe, upset stomachs, upset digestive system, upset nervous system, holding my breath the way I learned to do when I was a child in a dangerous environment, walking on eggshells the way I learned to do when I was a child in a dangerous environment.
Eight years of fighting God, eight years of yielding my will to His. Eight years to get to the place of acceptance, eight years of reaching my outer limits and fifty-seven years to learn what Paul said is reality. Paul said, “I have learned to be content in all situations.”
I’m not comparing myself to Paul whatsoever!! He was an unbelievable man of God!! What he endured was far worse than what I’ve endured, but his letters, his teachings, his life before He met Jesus on the road to Damascus and after He met Jesus is a shining example of what each of us could have.
I’m not sure if I’d qualify what I finally realized as “contentment.” I think I’d qualify it as a deeper acceptance. With that deeper acceptance came the realization that everything is fine. Everything is good. It doesn’t matter who does what or if they don’t do what. It doesn’t matter who says what or if they say what. It doesn’t matter who thinks what or if they don’t think what. It doesn’t even matter what my best sister thinks, says, does or doesn’t think, say or do.
Nothing matters except Jesus and me. Nothing whatsoever.
He has indeed, as it says in the twenty-third Psalm, prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies. I’ve known this for quite a while. What I now understand is this is what it means to daily take up my cross and follow Jesus. It seems so simple, yet I did not truly understand it until now.
I follow Jesus, my God, no matter what, no matter who, no matter. I pick up my cross daily and choose for that one day to follow Jesus. Then the next day I pick my cross up again and for that one day I choose to follow Jesus. Then the next day . . . and on and on and on until He calls me Home.
For the past eight years my cross has been my neighbors, their attitudes against me, their false accusations, their hatred, their actions, etc.
Since I am choosing each day to follow Jesus, I will continue to follow Him and keep my eyes on Him and keep my thoughts on Him as much as I am able to do so.
My God and I walk this walk together. Nobody else walks with me, but Jesus. Nobody else can walk this walk for me. Storms may come. Storms may go. I may have doubts. I will have temptations. Sometimes I’ll be able to overcome those temptations and sometimes I’ll give in and sin. Yet no matter what and no matter who, I’ll repent, be forgiven, take my cross up again and follow Jesus.
This is life: A one-day-at-a-time walk with God. Again, it’s so simple once you truly realize what that means — what that involves.
The enemies don’t leave. They may change, but there will always be enemies. My circumstances, my friends, my family, my physical/mental/emotion health, my finances, my dwelling, my feelings, my thoughts — all these may change and most of them probably will. Yet still my life is choosing to pick up my cross in whatever form that may be and choosing to follow Jesus daily.
This is life and it’s okay. I’m going to be fine. I AM fine!!
I’m strong. I’m a survivor. I’m a conqueror. I’m one who endures. I’m one who perseveres.
This is my life and I’m beginning to like it.
This is my life and I’m so very thankful to every single person who ever prayed for me, who ever encouraged me, who ever forgave me for sinning against them and for those who still pray for me, still encourage me and still forgive me.
Most especially I am thankful to my God — my Abba, my Jesus, my Holy Spirit — for getting me to this point. It’s been miraculous, desperate, unimaginable, fun, exciting, scary, wild, calm, wonderful, horrible, strange odyssey and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything!!
I don’t reblog many posts, but this is absolutely hilarious and wonderful!! I hope everyone takes the time to read it and enjoy it . . . and that you enjoy it as much as I did!!
Originally posted on yadadarcyyada:
1. When you hear a noise down a dark alley, or basement, up in the attic, in the woods, in the shadows, or a cemetery – don’t go to check it out or call out things like “Is anyone there?” or “Who’s there?”. You probably don’t want to know.
3. If you’re in a good hiding space, don’t leave it right away or make a lot of noise. Shhh!
4. Don’t depend on someone coming to rescue you, they usually get killed.
5. Don’t go all hero and decide you’re going to go and fight the serial killer, zombie, demon, etc. It rarely works and usually ends in death, dismemberment, maiming, or all of the above.
View original 648 more words
On March 16, 2014 I was notified by WordPress:
“Happy Anniversary! You registered on WordPress.com 2 years ago!”
I think about a lot of anniversaries during the first four months of each year:
Twenty-one years ago during this month of April is when these mental/emotional health issues I didn’t realize I had emerged full-force after a breakdown. No professional person has ever labeled what I went through as a “breakdown”since it happened in the privacy of my own home. I label it as such because that term is the only one I think applies to what I went through for a solid week. The after-effects have lasted twenty-one years and, unless I receive a miracle, will last until the day I die.
Four years ago in January my meds quit working and I spiraled so far down until I came closest to committing suicide than ever before. I wasn’t aware at the time that my meds quit working. It snuck upon me slowly. I thank God I had a wonderful psychiatrist at the time who would call me at home to check up on me. It took until March before I was able to get out of the house and see him. I think I scared him because I’d cut myself twice in a twenty-four hour period, since the first time I hadn’t cut deeply enough, and I don’t think he’d ever encountered that before. He wasn’t a full-fledged M.D. He was a P.A. (Physicians Assistant.) He was the best doctor I ever had. Unfortunately for me and all his other patients at the mental health clinic, he decided to transfer to Primary Care. I miss him quite often!!
Two years ago in February, on Valentine’s Day, I had a mastectomy and survived my fight against breast cancer. (The radiation came later, but I consider this date to be when I knew I had truly survived the ordeal.)
I’m grateful WordPress notified me of my anniversary with them. My writing has changed since I first began my blog. This is only right as I have changed in the past two years.
I chose my user name to reflect that I was a survivor. This was something new to my awareness of who I was after surviving everything I’d been through in life, not just the breast cancer.
I also wanted to protect my privacy and the privacy of those I love as much as I possibly know how to do so. This blog is not about identifying me as an individual, but it’s about my experiences and how I’ve survived, endured and persevered through them. I also show the mistakes I’ve made along the way and am as open as I can be in a public forum to underscore the fact that I am a spiritual being residing in a human body and therefore I am still able to mess up big time.
My hope still remains that those who need to read what I write will be led here so they can see that if I, a regular person, can go through all I’ve gone through and am still going through, if I can survive, endure and persevere through it all, then so can anyone else.
I am praying that I will now be enabled to thrive, to shine, to be myself no matter the circumstances around me. I hope those who have read my blog and are reading it will stick with me and see how this turns out. Hopefully, I’ll have another anniversary to celebrate: “The Day I Began To Thrive!!”
There certainly have been a lot of changes taking place inside me. I’ve wanted to write about everything, but it seems I find I don’t have the time to put into my writing as I have had in the past.
It’s funny to hear those words in my head, because when I did have the time to write nothing seemed to come to mind. Sometimes I’d start a post and it would fizzle out or not feel right, so I’d trash it.
I could write about these changes God has been doing inside me, but it’s connected to things I’ve written about in the past. Even though it concerns ongoing issues, I find I’m not wanting to write about it.
I guess I feel like I’ve been pulled up out of that particular muck and mire. Therefore if I write about what has been muck and mire, I’ll be dealing with the past. I no longer want to deal with the past. I’m more interested in the present.
Don’t get me wrong — I love my good memories and my good photos of my life and the people, animals and places in those memories and photos. That aspect of the past I want to keep so I can cherish and be thankful for it all.
I am trying to concentrate on now. I try each day to concentrate on that day only. I also aim to get something done, even though most days I fall short of the mark. I might not accomplish what I’d planned the day before, but sometimes I surprise myself and accomplish something totally different. That’s cool. As long as I accomplish something, I am doing well.
Weekends are still rough for me. Yet I still ask God to change that. I’d like for them not to be any different from the other days of the week. I look at it as a work-in-progress.
That’s what I am: a work-in-progress. I hope I’ll continue to be a work-in-progress until I die. Death, hopefully, will mean I’ve done what I was sent here to do.
There’s also a lot of things I could urge myself to write in my blog as these months have passed, but I find I want to keep most of it private. This, too, is all right. It’s my life, my business, my thoughts, my plans, my ideas, my needs, my desires, my option and my free will to decide if I want to share what I’m thinking, feeling or doing.
To do this without putting extra pressure on myself is a nice freedom. I have always put pressure on myself to do and to be. It seems that I’ve always had a nagging voice inside my head and it’s so nice to not have it as often. It’s also nice to become aware of the nagging thoughts and put a stop to them. I thank the Holy Spirit for enabling me to do so.
I’m not certain why this has happened, but I’ve actually felt fairly well lately. Since I couldn’t function a week ago, this might sound contradictory. Yet even knowing I couldn’t function for four days — not eating, not drinking anything except for my favorite beverage which is frowned upon by my healthcare professionals, sleeping too much or not sleeping at all, hygiene out the window, unable to speak to the one I love most on this planet — I wasn’t suicidal.
This is not the norm for me. Not at all. Usually if I’m in a position where I cannot talk to the one I love most on this planet, I’m suicidal. I was astounded — or I would have been if I had been able to feel anything. I wasn’t numb. I knew I was depressed. I simply didn’t feel sad, yet I cried a lot at shows I’d watch on the internet. More contradictions.
Naturally, I talked to God quite a bit during this time. We talk from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep. As I talk to my God I get images in my mind’s eye. It’s as if He sends these images to me to make me understand or they form as I’m talking with Him in order for me to see more clearly.
I saw myself as a workhorse — actually the lower part of my legs looked more like the Budweiser Clydesdale that are shown on commercials during the month of December. I found I was in an incredibly thick substance which made any forward movement extremely taxing. Yet, like the workhorse I was (am) I kept pushing forward. Jesus was near me, but not in this thick substance.
When I think of workhorses, I think of horses worn down from a life of hard labor. Their backs are bowed, their heads are down and there are callouses or rough patches where heavy lines, reigns and other workhorse items were placed on their backs and around their necks day-after-day, year-after-year.
This was not what I saw of myself. Once again, that Budweiser Clydesdale were what I saw as who I was in this image. My back was not bowed. I was not worn down. I was not worn out. This is contradictory to what I have written in the past. Instead I was giving it my all as I tried to move my legs just an inch or two through this thick substance.
This tells me I see myself differently now. This tells me that it might be tough going, but I’m making progress. This tells me I am indeed better.
Will there be setbacks? Of course there will be. Life, especially life with various mental, emotional and physical health issues, is not a bed of roses no matter how many different ways I was told as a child that’s what life was for grownups.
Will I keep writing my blog? When I want to, I will. When I feel well, I will. When I have things I want to share, I will.
If you’d like to, please stay tuned. God only knows what this workhorse will accomplish by this time next year!!
By the way, to those who have remained faithful followers, readers and/or commenters of my blog I want to take this opportunity to say, “Thank you!!”