Surviving

November 22, 2021

 I just read my last blog. I was pretty hopeful that day... at least I was trying to sound hopeful. I can't remember how I felt that day. Usually, re-reading my words takes me back to where I was when I wrote them... but I didn't have that experience this morning. Maybe I wanted to be more hopeful than I actually was that day. Whatever I was feeling on July 27th that prompted me to write that hope-filled post, it was short lived.

I haven't written or painted since then. 

Honestly, I haven't done much of anything...just  survived. Day by day, minute by minute - that's what life has become over the past 10 years... just surviving. I  spend each day putting one foot in front of the other. I have adopted a habit of encouraging myself, which helps.

"Just get out of bed. Laying here will just make you have to rush and you know how you hate to rush. Just get up. You can do this. Get out of bed. That's all you have to do right now. Just get up and get some caffiene. You have plenty of time to let it do its job. Dont worry about anything else right now. Just get out of bed."

"Just get your shower. You know it will make you feel better. You can have a good cry. It's okay. Noone will know. Okay - now you have to get out of the shower or you are gonna be late."

"Spend some time on your hair. That's non-negotiable. Your hair is the one thing you still have going for you and having your hair fixed makes you look like you care- and put on some make up. Like Nan says - You might feel better if you put on a little lipstick."

Truth be told, once I get the outside looking like everything is okay, the inside can just stay on auto pilot. No one asks "how are you?" or "are you okay today?" if everything on the outside looks like it's supposed to.

The rest of my day is made up of "just do the next thing" ...

Go to work

Do what Blake and Gage need me to do

Try to be helpful

Go home

Do something to pass the time until I can sleep - and pray that sleep comes quickly and easily.

Dreamless nights are the best nights, when I just slip off into nothingness and stay there... until the alarm goes off.

The past 10 years have been an endless cycle of just getting thru the time between waking up and going to sleep.

I don't know what happened that changed me. I don't remember any one traumatic event that changed me from someone who creates to someone who survives...but something happened. Something killed me sometime in my very early 40s and I have spent the time since then waiting to stop breathing so that this can be over. Living was easy. Surviving is hard.

I don't want to continue on like this. 

There was a time when I wrote what I felt. I just opened up my soul and let the words flow. I didn't go back and spell check or grammar check or try to make sure that any of it even made sense. I just opened up and bled over the keyboard. When I read the words I wrote back then, I can remember how I felt when I wrote them. When I read what I've written over the past 10 years, I feel nothing. I don't think I've been honest. I think I've written what I want people to read- tried to project the image of me that I want them to see. 

I don't want to do that anymore.

I keep saying that I started writing for me. "In the Battle" started out as my way to put words to my feelings as I battled cancer - and so may other things. My battles got harder - so much harder than cancer - and it wasn't as easy to come up with acceptable words to describe my feelings. So, instead I tried to be a point of encouragement - but I simply don't have it in me to encourage anyone anymore. 

I need the freedom to open up my soul and let the words bleed out.

I'm not sure how to do this. Writing is my outlet. Writing is how I sort thru the stuff that traffic-jams my brain. Writing is how I remember who I am and why I'm here. What I need to write - what I need to work thru  - isn't really anything that anyone else needs to read... at least not until I get to the other side of it. 

So I think I may blog without publishing - at least for a while.

That being said - if you are reading this - whenever it is published - 

Thanks for sitting with me in the dark.

Big hugs - 

K

The In Between

I didn’t write anything for yesterday. What can I say about the death of my Savior? This is one of the very few times that I am left speechless. Why would Jesus choose to die for me? I have no answers... I only know that he did. Out of God’s love for us... he did. And I’m so very thankful.

 

So what about today?         

 What about the day BETWEEN the crucifixion and he resurrection??  What do we do with today? 

We know that tomorrow is Easter. So... what do we do with today? 

And why does it even matter?????

It matters because we need the hope of Sunday and oh my GOODNESS it is easy to forget. It’s easy to get lost in hopelessness of dark times.

Waiting for test results
2am phone calls
Slamming doors
Death of someone we love
“I don’t love you anymore”

What do we do with The Saturday events in our lives?
We wait.
We trust.
We believe.


                     

Thursday's Thoughts on ... Art ... and scars

I enjoy the freedom that painting offers me. I rarely paint from photos (and when I do it frustrates me to the center of my soul). I'd rather paint what's in my head or on my heart. I don't always name my pieces and they don't always have a story or any deep meaning. I just paint. I paint until what I'm painting feels right and then I'm done. 

This painting is the exception to the rule. It actually came to be quite by accident and I held onto it for a longish time simply because when I looked at it, all I saw was the accident.

I painted it for a show back in December of 2018. I have found that painting while I'm showing my work seems to make me more approachable to visitors. For this show,  I was positioned outside on a lovely, albeit windy, day. I'd just set a smallish piece aside to dry when a gust of wind knocked that freshly completed piece into the piece pictured, leaving a black smear. There was no way to remove it or "fix" it, so I took the smaller painting and pressed the wet edge against this piece in a few more spots, hoping that it may appear that I intended it to look this way. 

It did not sell that day and almost tossed in in the trash more than once. I hung it in our home, thinking I may grow to appreciate it, but the accidental marks and subsequent cover up mocked me.

I named it "Scars"  when I realized that this piece and I are a lot alike. I look at myself much like I do this piece of art... most of the time I only see the scars. To me, my scars (and the ones in the painting) are nothing more than flaws that point out failure and imperfection. They are a reminder of how what "is" is not what I'd planned.  I'd like to tell you that this realization was a healing moment,  that I bonded with the painting over our imperfections and brokenness and that it became a cherished piece in my personal collection. That is not the case. I hated it more than ever because it specifically reminded me of how broken and flawed I am.

I sold Scars to a fella in Florida last month. He bought another abstract piece from me in December and told me to send him pics of others before I posted them on social media. So, when I finally had enough of this piece, just before I tossed it in the trash, I sent him a photo of it. 

To my complete shock, he said he loved it and wanted it. 

What did he see that I was missing?

He saw the piece for what it IS, not for what I'd planned it to be... which is exactly how we should see  art... and ourselves.

"Scars" in it's new home

I tried to look at "Scars" from a different perspective. When I did, I finally saw that it's the imperfections in this piece that make it unique, special and maybe even beautiful.

This has given me a visual to relate to when I need to be reminded that beauty is not only found in clean lines, perfect figures, and unblemished souls.  Beauty is also found in our brokenness, in the less than perfect, flawed, and unbalanced. Our scars don't have to be "ugly" reminders of our imperfections. They're proof we've not just lived, but survived. Our scars are not our story, they're not even the focal point, but they certainly add character, emotional depth and passion to it. 

Perhaps your scars are visible like the ones this piece bears, or maybe they are felt deep in your soul....maybe both.  Perhaps, despite your best effort to cover them, they mock you... reminding you that you and your life are not at all what you planned or hoped for. If so, you are not alone. It is my honest prayer that you will no longer see your scars as reminders of hurts and failures, but as reminders of how God has delivered you from what tried to destroy you. I hope that one day we will all be able to say "let me tell you about my scars," instead of hiding them.


Remember, Satan wants you to think that your scars are only proof of your flaws and failures.  God takes the mess of our scars and turns them into HIS message of hope, redemption, and, dare I say it... beauty.  

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28 (NIV)

Just my thoughts...

K

The Valley of Depression

I am writing this on September 28. 

It's important to note that because this will not be published until the middle of October. I am hoping and praying that by that time I will no longer feel the way I do today. Still, how I feel today is important. I want to give voice to where I am now...and on the happen chance that someone else who is traveling this road finds themselves reading my words...know you are not alone.

I have said before, if you are struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts, PLEASE seek out PROFESSIONAL help. 

There are WONDERFUL counselors who are trained to help walk you out of this dark place. You are not alone in your struggle. You are not the only one who feels this way. There is nothing "wrong" with you anymore than there is something "wrong" with someone who has cancer or diabetes or any other disease. If you were diagnosed with cancer, you would go to the doctor to get medicine and help and support. Depression is no different. There IS hope, but YOU must take action and get the help YOU need. It is out there. Go get it. 

That being said, there is no easy fix. 

As I write this, I've been hospitalized twice, I am currently on 2 meds: one for depression and one for anxiety. I also take something at night to help me relax and sleep well. I am meeting with a wonderful Christian counselor every other week. (I may change that to every week and will discuss this change with Perry when I see him on Tuesday.) I am SO much better than I was 3 months ago. I am better than I was 6 months ago...or even a year ago.

I DO have good days, but I still have more bad days than good days. 

The good days are precious to me and they give me hope. I believe that this valley will not last forever, even though today it is very very dark. 

I am going to try to describe where I am today.

Everyone thinks that suicide is such a terrible thing. 

Honestly, where I am now is so much worse. It's more than I can describe. I'm NOT going to kill myself. I took that option off the table, and that's what everyone seems to be so worried about, but I feel like I am going to crumble to pieces at any moment. It's like I am barely holding it together and if anyone touches me I will literally break into a million pieces. I fight back tears constantly and I am afraid if I ever let that dam open, I may not stop crying...ever. 

Worst thing is, I don't see any way out of this. 

Suicide is not an option. I'm not supposed to "stuff" my feelings anymore, because "they" say that's what lead to me trying to kill myself in the first place. I'm just left to FEEL all this....terribleness. And I HATE it. I don't know what to DO with it. I don't know how to DEAL with it. Heck! I don't even know how to identify what these feelings are, much less figure out where they are coming from! It is absolutely maddening.

I keep telling myself, "Just one more day." 

I feel so FRAGILE. I feel like I can't be depended on, like I can't carry my weight in things, like I am not meeting expectations. Like I am letting people down because I can't get my act together. (and yes, I know that is Striver and Self Critic talking)

I don't want to be like this forever.

I don't want to FEEL this way forever. I don't want to have to keep TELLING myself "Suicide is not an option. Just get through today." The only way I know how to deal with this is to put all these feelings that I don't like in a box, put a lid on it, wrap it up with tape and bury it deep deep deep so that I can't feel any of it. Out of sight, out of mind. The way I would normally deal with this is take a deep breath and tell myself, 

"Suck it up, you are fine, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Put those bad feelings in a box and forget about them.  Don't be such a baby about this. Get a grip and Move on." 

(I suppose that would be Controller, Striver, Perfectionist and Self Critic speaking)

I can't do that now. I'm afraid to. If they would stay buried another 44 years, that'd be just fine. 

I mean, a nervous break down at 88 is not such a big deal I guess. 
I'm just not so sure that all my "junk" will stay buried now. I am not in control of my feelings. I can't control my thoughts or emotions. Everything is different. Everything is a jumbled, mixed up, hot stinkin mess. I feel very weak and vulnerable. I feel so .... fragile.  And I HATE it. 

So, when I say "I'm okay," I mean, "I'm holding it together for now." 

I am selfishly praying that eventually I will be able to honestly say "I'm good," but I won't lie anymore and say I'm fine or I'm good when I'm not. But if I say I'm okay, I am. That's the best I can do. I don't know if you can be suicidal and know that you won't act on killing yourself, but if that's possible, that's where I am. Maybe knowing that I won't act on it makes me NOT suicidal. I don't know. 

I have never felt so helpless. 

I can HONESTLY tell you that cancer was easy compared to this. This is the worst valley I've ever been in. I believe that this will get better eventually, but am prepared for it not to. This may just be something I carry with me. Either way, I have to learn how to cope with this level of depression. 

Counseling is helping. 

It really is. Perry is very calm about things. When I tell him that I feel like a total wack job and that I am losing my mind, he'll say "Is that a bad thing?" According to Perry, I don't have to be in control of my emotions all the time. (gasp) He even suggested that I work on "letting go." 

I'm not on board with all this yet, but I have hope. I can see where it makes sense. Just not sure what will happen if I loosen the vice grip I have on my feelings and emotions. That is a frightening thought.

Depression totally sucks on a level of epic proportions. 

I want to give up every single day. 

But I'm not going to. 

I'm going to fight (or crawl) through this and I WILL be fine at some point in time. 

I'm looking forward to that day.

Big hugs and much love,

K

PS
 As of October 17, I'm still here, doing a bit better, having a few more good days now than I was having even just a month ago. Still have some very rough days, but I am hopeful.

I have said many times, but will remind you again, that "The Battle" I refer to in the title of this blog is the battle Satan wages against our souls. It is based on the scripture that describes the Armor of God, found in the Book of Ephesians.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place,  and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.  In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Ephesians 6:10-17 (NIV)

If you skipped over the scripture, please stop here and go back and read it. Slowly. Hear what it is saying. I'll wait.

I don't know how long it will take me to get all that is in my head and heart into print. 

I trust you will be patient. 

As most of my readers know, I battled cancer twice (and won).  Most of that journey was recorded here in 2008 - 2011. I have often referred to those years as my time in "The Cancer Valley." I thought that was "my" battle. I thought that was the darkest valley I would travel through.

I was wrong.

It's now 2017, I am almost 6 years cancer free and I am without a doubt in the darkest valley I've ever known. I've been here for...a long time. I am wounded. Literally. I have been beaten and battered in more ways than I can express. My heart is heavy. My dreams are dark. My brain is clouded.  I honestly don't know when I will get to the other side of this...or if I will. 

If you know me or have read my writing for any length of time, you know that writing is my therapy. Everything seems to make more sense if I can just get it in print. I hope that will be the case with this. As with most everything I write, this is for me, but I am glad to share it with you. 

Starting Thursday, I will begin to post weekly, and in those posts will try my best to share what lead up to where I am today. After that, I hope to be able to share this journey to healing with you as I did when I battled cancer. It is my humble and earnest prayer that my journey will shed light on the reality of Satan's attack on Christians through Depression, Anxiety, and Suicide as I try to seek God's face, feel His presence, and find peace in the midst of this darkness. 

Until next time, 

Big hugs,

K