I Have A Confession To Make

My soul longs for you.

My soul longs for you.

Nothing else will do.

Nothing else will do.

Anytime I'm getting ready to paint, to soak, to hang out with my Daddy, I put this song on.  Every painting I ever painted began with this song.  That's my confession.  :) 

He loves on me, heals my heart, catches my tears, makes my soul sing and inspires me to paint.

He sits there with His daughter, His hand on mine, paint to canvas, music playing in the background.

Let it rain.

Let it rain.

Let it rain.

Jesus, lover of my soul, the sweetest name I know.

Whatever It Is It's Just Visiting. Wow

I love that!

Whatever it is it's passing.

Storms are passing over, they never last.

Whatever it is you are going through it's just something that's visiting.  

Breathe.

Be encouraged you're not the only one.

It's okay to cry, to rant, to scream at the walls, sometimes you have to do that.  It's okay to fall completely apart and go off the deep end, but get back up!  

Move on from that moment.

It's okay, but let's keep living.

Own it but don't live in it.

God has a purpose for your life and nothing can change that.  Stand up, brush yourself off, wipe the tears off your face and take a deep breath.

Just breathe.

I can see my spirit eyes closed, small smile, taking a deep breath.

Exhaling.

We all have moments.

That's exactly what it is a moment and some last longer than others.

I understand you're hurting, you can't help it, it's happening to me too.

Let's keep moving, search for the happiness and the beauty of it all and keep walking this thing out, because giving up and surrendering is not an option.

Breathe.

This too shall pass.

Just For Today

Just for today, the sorrow subsided.  There was no crying, no feelings of helplessness, no voice constantly chattering inside my head.  My heart was quiet, no screaming out in pain, thank God.
We all have stuff: things we don't want others knowing, secrets, shame, things we can't quite put our finger on.  Our minds want to have it all figured out, everything nice and organized, answers to every question.  There are times in life when this just isn't possible.
We hide.
We hide behind our masks, our emotions, where we think no one can see us.  We walk around with permanent grin on our face because we don't want anyone knowing the raging storm that's going on inside us.
It's too much.  It's embarrassing.  What will they think?
I don't know why God gives me all these assignments to be a voice, other than He knows I'm a willing vessel.  He and I have gone round and round about this one.
It was my only secret, mental illness.
Just for today I felt normal, whatever that is.
What is normal?

nor·mal

ˈnôrməl/

adjective

1. 1.

   conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.

   synonyms:

   usual, standard, ordinary, customary, conventional, habitual, accustomed, expected,wonted; More
2. 2.

   technical

   (of a line, ray, or other linear feature) intersecting a given line or surface at right angles.

noun

1. 1.

   the usual, average, or typical state or condition.

   
   

   "her temperature was above normal"
2. 2.

   technical

   a line at right angles to a given line or surface.

It's safe to say I've never been normal.  LOL.  It's just a label we stick on things, like the labels we stick on everything else.  I can appreciate things needing description but we've gone way over the edge with the labeling of everything.

We're all uniquely, fearfully and wonderfully made.  

We're children of God, how does this happen to us?

I don't have any answers but when I do you can bet I'm going to shout them from the rooftops, I'm going to help anyone I can with what I've learned and I'm going to be well again and much longer this time.

I've reached out to someone I trust and she's coming to my house tomorrow after she gets out of class.  She's still going to school, has been going to school almost the entire time I've known her and I trust her with my heart and what we will talk about.  

Who knows?  I might end up being her thesis.  I might end up being her first success story.  I might end up finding out things about myself I don't know.

I don't know what's going to happen anymore than the next person does, but I'm not going to let this destroy my life again.  I'm not going to fall into this like I would the arms of a lover and let it embrace me.  I'm not going to deal with this the way I did in the past either.

My sister called today to check on me.  She was the first person I said it out loud to.  "I'm pretty sure I'm sick again sis."  You can't imagine how crazy that sounds to me, knowing who I am and who I belong to.  Jesus is not mentally ill, so how do I walk through as He is, so am I in this world, knowing this is something I can't ignore.  Ignoring it won't make it go away.

Its these things that don't line up with scripture, with the journey, that completely contradict our identity.

More questions, even less answers.

Grrrrrrrr.

Just for today, I'm okay.

Praise God.

You Should Know

Today, in church, Paul Lammon was talking about how we need to call folks, how we shouldn't depend on others to see what we put on facebook, when we are going through things.  How we need to connect with others and let them know what's really going on with us.
It was profound, hearing that, knowing what I've gone through this last week.
I didn't want to talk about it, but I found myself up in the middle of the night, falling to pieces, having cried for days, recognizing a ghost from my past.
For those of you who don't know, because I've never really discussed it openly, I have been mentally ill in my life, extremely, destructively, disasterously mentally ill.  Going to the doctor, laying on the couch, being doped to the gills, labeled, categorized, diagnosed, give the girl a check mentally ill.
Even now it's so painful to even mention.
There's a stigma so dark attached to it, I've only trusted certain people to know.
I spent days crying and somewhere in all of that I realized, "This is more than just getting my heart broke and being rejected.", "This is more than the usual weeping I experience.", "This is more than disappointment and being exhausted and frustration, this is something totally different."
Damn!!!!!!
I remember feeling like this another time.
Damn!  Damn!  Damn!  I thought this thing had gone away!
I thought I'd managed to get past this!
I hate the labels, the diagnosis, the categorization and the medicine.
I hate the way people tip toe around you and treat you with kid gloves and seem to be waiting for you to flip the hell out and go crazy.
It's not who I am, it's not my identity, it's not something I embrace or accept as being a part of me.
You'll hear me say things like, "They say this is what I have.", "This is what they've diagnosed me with.", "This is what they say is wrong with me."
It has to be something wrong with me right?  Not everyone is certifiable crazy.
I don't have a problem with the word crazy, it's all the scientific crap they try to blow past me that bothers me.
Extreme bi-polar disorder, manic deperssive with disassociative features.  Disassociative features, it's not a freakin movie set!
I'm deeply disturbed this is happening!  I'm even more disturbed at my urge to share it and put it out there for the whole world to see, but not nearly as disturbed as I was when a voice came along and started talking to me about ending it all.
It's such a long, horrific and tragic story, I don't want to go into the details.
It cost me everything, a marriage, my children, my freedom, and then some.
It sent me in a downward spiral that took me ten or more years to dig my way out.
It had me paying people who didn't give a crap about me or what happened to me, to listen and not help me solve my problems.  It had me taking so much of a drug I should be dead because even the psychiatrist was a quack.  It had me in a lot of deep dark places, doing really stupid and destructive stuff, it had me out of control.
Man oh man!
I keep seeing Jack Nicholson in The Shining with a hatchet busting the bathroom door, then saying "Here's Johnny."
Then comes Randy Quaid, the drunken pilot in Independence Day, flying into the space ship yelling, "Hello boys, I'm back!"
There are so many things playing out in my mind right this minute it would be impossible to describe them to you in a way that makes sense.
I don't have to accept it but I do have to own it, because I don't want to die.
I'm mentally ill.
There goes half the people I thought loved me and were my friends.  Bye.  It was nice knowing you.
I'm mentally ill.
There goes 90% of the men who may have wanted to date me.  See ya fellas, those others chicks you are chasing don't look real stable either.
I'm mentally ill.
There goes anyone else who wasn't true to start with.  What ever.  Bye Felicia.  Later.
Why am I telling you this?
I don't want to die!
I kept hearing Lamar Golden's sermon where he talked about the spirit of suicide coming on him, a great man of God, how it began to lie to him and tell him how no one would care, how easy it could be.
I don't want to waste away in this desert of emotions.
I don't want everyone being unaware of what's happening to me, because it is happening to me, it's not something I'm doing to myself.
I hate it, my heart is broken, my mind is in a million places and my emotions, they are locked in the trunk and driving at the same time, which is never ever a good thing.
No one can look at me and say, "Get your shit together Darlene.", because no one has the answers as to how that will actually be done.
I thought I did have it together!
I haven't felt this way in more than twenty years!
Why did it come back?
Did it not ever go away?
What in the heck is going on here?
I'm sure I'm not the only one.  I'm sure there are others just like me, who live in the shadows, don't want to talk with others about it, carry a certain shame about it.
Right this minute, I am the only one, the most important one and I'm telling you, I am suffering from mental illness.
There I said it!
Damn!
I'm trying to set something up so I can talk with someone, start trying to dig back into the root of the problem, find answers for something that will never be concrete and get through the next moment.
So why are you telling me this Darlene?
I don't know!
I need your help!  I need your love!  You don't have to understand me, just accept and love me!  I'm an open book, I'm not trying to hide anything from anyone and furthermore I can't afford to because this monster is so much bigger than I am to begin with.
I'm broken.
Now you know my deepest darkest secret, I don't know what I expect you to do with it, I'm just trying to get everything out in the open, release stuff I don't need and let people know what's going on with me.  I can't front and fake it anymore, it's not going to let me anyway.  You're liable to see crazy stuff that defies explanation, I hope you don't but it could happen.
I can't shut myself off, isolate from everyone and hide it, because it's there.  It's the elephant in the room and it has to be talked about.
I'm going to copy and paste some information I found, simply because people need answers, hell I need answers.  If you have information you can share with me, encouragement, stories of your own, that would be great and probably help.
I've used every ounce of courage I had, I'm completely vulnerable and at the mercy of the world right this second and that's all I'm going to say about it, for now.

Being mentally ill means:

Thinking outside of “normal” rational concepts, causing you not to participate in a normal life.

For a portion of one’s life, it is the inability to make one’s own choices based on what makes the most sense to them.

Possibly thinking self-destructive thoughts or do things that are self-destructive.

Sometimes having an inability to understand what people are saying to you and are not able to control your own behavior.

Having others be exasperated with you or treating you like a child.

Often not understanding the motivation for one’s own deeds or speech.

Constantly regretting one’s actions, but not knowing what to do about it.

Blaming others and your environment for your own feelings and difficulties because you don’t know who else to blame.

Assuming what others are thinking, and often misunderstanding other’s motives.

Being mentally ill does not mean:

That a person is irrational, but that their thinking involves a different kind of rationality.

That a person is violent, except in rare cases.

That a person has a lesser intelligence.

That a person cannot function normally in life, although they may need some special assistance or allowances.

What's Wrong?

I've got issues!  Yes, big honking, make a fool of myself, over thinking, over feeling issues.

I'm not perfect, never have claimed to be, never will.

I love people so passionately my heart is broken again and again, day after day, moment after moment.

This love stuff is something serious and some of it hurts so much!

I feel like most of my life is "oh well", because I'm not perfect, I screw stuff up!

Why oh why did God give me this heart?

It mostly hurts and cries out.

Every time I try to give it away to someone I end up feeling dumb and cheated and wronged.

I'm not saying I haven't given my heart to the wrong people, because it seems to be a pattern with me.  Wrong guy, yeah give him your heart girl!

There are days when I want to drop off the face of the planet, but this voice in my head always says, "Stop being so selfish.  People are depending on you."

I understand that, but that selfish voice says in reply "When do I get to depend on someone?"

That selfish voice tells me all the wrongs I've suffered, the things that have been taken from me, the times when others didn't care anything about my heart or what they might do to it.

I've always said don't let one person ruin you for everyone else, but what if I should be saying, everyone else has already ruined you, what could you possibly offer someone else?

I get tired.  No, that's not correct, I get totally freaking exhausted, daily.

I don't live my life in comparison of others, but I'm not going to lie and say it doesn't matter to me when I look around and see everyone in love, in relationships, with lots of activity going on in their lives.

Why on why do I have to be a front runner?

Why can't I hang back in the shadows and move along with the flow?

Why do I have to have so much to say?

All my life I've been that hopeless romantic, my heart filled with longing to be loved.

I've got daddy issues too.  My daddy was a convict, a wife beater, a drunk, a thief, you name it my daddy probably did it.  He did things I won't ever discuss with another living soul.

Is this what's wrong with me, because I can't help but feel like something is wrong with me.

No I'm not having a pity party, so don't get it twisted, I'm really going through something right now and I can't get a grip on it, I can't stop crying, I can't push down the disappointment and I feel like my heart is ripped open and bleeding!

There's blood and tears everywhere!

Maybe it's grief, because so much of my life needs to be mourned and I've pushed it all away, kept marching on like a good little soldier.

That must be what it is, because if that's not what it is then I'm going to end up sitting in the offices of counselors and shrinks once again and they are going to medicate me.  I'm going to be labeled again and everyone is going to act funny around me, because you know it's not cool to be crazy, no one really wants you getting your problems on them.

So here I am, in the middle of the night, tears streaming down my face, my head wanting to explode, trying to figure it all out.

What's really wrong with you Darlene?

What's your problem?

Why can't you get it together?

It's not the chatter box either, it's a voice of concern, a voice I haven't heard in a very long time.

Were it not for the fact I have one of my children's babies I would have totally checked myself into a mental hospital yesterday.

Yes, you heard me correctly, a mental hospital.

I used to get a check, I was on so much medication I should be dead, it sent me down a spiraling staircase that landed me in prison the last go around.

Prison taught me one thing, I never want to go there again.

Maybe this is just my cry for help.

Psycho, that's the word I keep hearing, but it's a lie.  I'm not, never was, and I thought this was a ghost in my past.

I thought it was all gone and I would be fine, because I've been okay for a very long time.  I thought when I quit doing drugs all the crazy would go away.

Just keeping it real, I absolutely hate having to front sometimes, to put on that cheery little Jesus loves me face and be so positive and encouraging to everyone.

It sucks, when your heart is screaming out in pain and you don't really want anyone to see just how deep that well really is.

I'm vulnerable every minute of every day.

I'm really hurting in a way I don't know how to fix.

I keep talking to God about it and my heart just hurts more and more.

How long can you love everyone else and not feel totally loved back?

How long can a heart feel this way without killing someone?

I have so many questions and frustrations and masks I feel like I've been wearing and not only that you would think the tears would run out at some point.

Don't ask me what's wrong, because even I don't know!

When I was going through that time of darkness they called mental illness, the only people who didn't make me feel weird were my children and my boyfriend.  He quickly broke my heart afterwards, but his understanding and patience with me has stayed long past the heart ache of being betrayed.

I'm not good at hiding things, I can't lie, I have a hard time pulling off surprises and I hold so many people's secrets, the world would be amazed at just how much of my life they don't ever get to see or hear about, even though they think I tell all.

I've never had a nervous breakdown, so I don't know what that looks like or feels like, but if I had to guess I'm pretty sure I'm standing on that thresh hold right now.

I keep looking at the good, the blessings, the people in my life, all the wonderful things that happen to me but it isn't helping.  It's not healing me the way I expected it to.

I feel like God isn't listening to me right now, although I know how foolish it is, that He's there all the time, inside me.  I feel on the outside looking in on every single thing in life.  I feel like I'm in a prison and the door is never going to open so I can get out.

I never really stop talking to Him, it's a constant part of my being.

What's wrong?

I don't know.

I didn't want to tell anyone, because geez!  No one wants to hear "I'm miserable,", or "I think I'm losing my mind", they want happy and wonderful and nothing could ever go wrong in life.

They don't know how to deal with, I used to be mentally ill and I think it's come back.  They want their pretty little package with the paper and the bow and everything is perfect.

You can be sick and afflicted with everything under the sun but no one really knows what to do or say about mental illness.  I mean, what do you say?  "Look here Darlene, it's because you're crazy."  "I've noticed you going out of your mind lately and wanted to know what I could do to help."

There's such a stigma attached to it.

I remember everyone saying, "They're just telling you that.", until I was standing in a Henry County courthouse hearing what I had done in a mental black out, facing charges of arson, assault on several police officers, how I'd kicked the windshield out of my husband's truck, barefoot in the middle of winter, how they couldn't even hog tie me to get me under control.

It was at that moment I knew they weren't just telling me that I became the good little mental patient, take my medicine, do what they say, don't ask too many questions, don't tell them too much so they won't lock you away and whatever you do, don't act out.

Funny now, for the moment I was at the end of a marriage because of my issues.  Him playing this really great guy, silently shutting me out in a way that everyone just saw my behavior, that I was out of control.   I'm at the end of another marriage, because of his crazy, not my own.

He never stops trying to call me.  I block every number he ever calls from and the trap just seems to be full of cellphones that are not on my block list.  We have nothing to discuss, I don't even want to be his friend.  There's no hope of restoration in that relationship, the boundaries have been drawn and crossed.

I don't even miss him.

What's to miss?  Being robbed?  Being lied to?  Being treated second best to a drug?  Stuck waiting on someone to get out of jail, knowing that didn't fix them, they don't want to do better and nothing is ever going to matter to them, only getting high.  Always feeling like you're digging yourself out of a sandy pit, like nothing you do matters, like you'll never get to the top of that hole, because you're the one that put yourself there in the first place.

I don't know who will see this and for the moment I don't care because I think it had to be said, it had to come out of my head and appear before my eyes so I could start trying to pick it apart and put the puzzle back together.

The beautiful thing about thinking everyone is watching, is half the time they really aren't and in the end who cares anyway, it's your journey, you have to make it all on your own.  People walk around in judgement all day long, without ever really even giving it any thought, so anyone who judges me for being honest with myself and those around me, didn't really love me in the first place and who gives a shit what they think?  My life is important,  I deserve to be loved, I have great purpose and this is merely a brush stroke in a painting, even though it feel like the painting itself.

There I've said it.  I'm losing it.  I'm in a deep dark place and there's no one there to hold me.

It's scary, it's painful, it's not going away and nothing I'm doing is helping it to.

With that being said, I think I'll go crawl back into my bed, with that beautiful baby that isn't mine and try to stop crying and sleep.