Shalom

  “I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13
 
  My friend brought home a huge bag of birdseed because the natural winter harvest has been depleted. Plants haven’t started producing seeds yet. This is the time of year when songbirds suffer the effects of starvation. While we don’t put out much per day, this morning snack has attracted a wide range of feathered friends.
  One of the most beautiful is a male Cardinal. He vibrant red plumage is a flash of brightness against the bare branches.
  The neighbour to the south has a polished, stainless steel chimney running up the side of their house and extending several feet above the roofline. It would be for a wood stove or fireplace. It’s about twenty inches in diameter and is as shiny as a mirror.
  I’ve seen the Cardinal fly at his reflection time and time again; waging war against the interloper into his territory.
  When he first appeared in the area, one such attack lasted nearly five minutes. The Cardinal flew against himself, up and down the length of the chimney, using his wings to pummel this adversary. Exhausted and unsuccessful he retreated to a branch to catch his breath.
  After a couple of weeks of doing this, the attacks on his reflection aren’t quite so vigorous. But, just to be safe, a few times a day, the Cardinal will perch beside the chimney to give the “interloper” the hairy eyeball. He throws in the odd wing thrashing to make sure this enemy knows he isn’t happy about having him around.  
  He is his own enemy.
 
  Shalom: a Hebrew word whose meaning gets lost in translation. I thought it simply meant “peace be with you.” While I haven’t spent much time thinking about it, Sunday’s teaching revealed a glimpse into the rich, all encompassing nature of this simple blessing; one that is both a hello and a goodbye. It jumped up and touched my soul.
  And I quote, “Shalom isn’t about the idea that individual things are made right, but that all things are in right relationship.”
  Maybe I’ve been tackling the hyper vigilance like my Cardinal friend trying to drive away his reflection. I confess that the sheer magnitude and complexities of this constant inner struggle have left me overwhelmed and heavy hearted.
  Instead of trying to drive it away, what would happen if I welcomed it into the neighbourhood? What would happen if I simply acknowledge it, give thanks for the primal keep-safe response, and allow it to continue? Not that I have any way of stopping it at this point.
 
  Maybe it isn’t about stopping it at all.
  Maybe it’s about accepting it.

  So how do I take this vague and all-encompassing fear and allow it to be shaped into a right relationship with God?
  First of all, I don’t need to be ashamed that there’s something “wrong” with me. I don’t need to be ashamed that I can’t fix it or make it go away. I don’t need to be ashamed of how hard it is to be in a crowd, a busy environment or somewhere new. I don’t need to be ashamed of seeking out a safe corner in unfamiliar environments or ashamed of all the other idiosyncrasies that accompany the need to create feelings of safety.
  I don’t need to be ashamed of a life that was and is influenced by fear.
  Oh! 

  It’s why I am a writer, an artist, musician, a friend, a parent, a grandmother, an employee, a teacher, and a thousand other things seen and unseen. 
  Best of all, it’s why I am a child of God because fear drove me straight into His arms. It does a wonderful job of keeping me there, too.

  So fear is also a gift.
  Shalom, my friends, for today…Shalom.

Captive Freed

  “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5
 
  I woke up Sunday morning with this verse foremost in my thoughts. It’s time to delve deeper.
  What are the reasons we hold things captive? There’s incarceration for criminal acts—punishment, really. There’s holding something or someone captive for ransom before they are freed. Maintaining rigid control through oppression is another way of keeping things captive. Denial is the prison guard of all guards.
  But then, we will hold an injured bird captive until it heals. We will strap a child into a car seat. Holding something captive can be an expression of love.
  So Paul isn’t talking about denial when he says take our thoughts captive. He isn’t talking about an arbitrary judgment that our thoughts are bad and should be squashed. That’s not demolition, that’s ignoring the inner voice, albeit, one that frequently lies.
  Graphic imaginations cross my mind on a regular basis. Vivid images of the house burning down or of being in a terrible car accident. One pops into mind where I fall down the stairs although that particular gem is less frequent now I have someone sharing my home.
  When I find myself immersed in these grim daydreams, I give my head a shake and think about something else. My entire being knows these fear filled ideas are not of God so it’s easy to catch on and dismiss them.
 
  I just realized how much being alone for the last fifteen years has been a prison. To be kind, it’s understandable why. Not that I was ready or even willing to entertain the idea of becoming romantically involved with anyone…I am still not.
  So God has brought companionship.
  And with this, laughter.
  Nothing chases away the things that set themselves up against the knowledge of God like laughter.
  I had no idea.
  What’s the old saying? You never know what you’re missing until you find it.

  (A long pause as this sinks in.)
 
  (Smile.) It’s a morning for tears as overwhelming emotions of gratitude, and awe and wonder pour out from my heart. Some of them are simply because of the profound amazement at how God put this all in place…He even used Covid.
  Mostly, there’s relief as my prison bars turn to dust. I am not alone any more. Neither is my friend.
  God is good. AMEN!

He Leadeth Me

 

  “The Word gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.” John 1:4-5
   Since the renovation, my kitchen table no longer faces the window. The window is higher now so it sits above the countertop. It wouldn’t provide much of a view anyways if I was sitting where I used to. Instead, I face a wall that is illuminated by the morning sun. The plants on the window sill cast blurry shadows in the square of sunlight. There’s an orchid in full bloom and an avocado plant I’ve been carefully pruning in an attempt to make a bonsai out of it.
  There are paler, wispy shadows criss-crossing the background, sure evidence of the trees across the road. Or maybe it’s the upper branches of the ancient apple tree gracing the side of the driveway.  
  Having the window where it is makes a huge improvement because standing at the sink means being able to look out the window instead of facing a dark and gloomy corner like it used to.
  Part of me is sorely tempted to trace these outlines on the wall but that would look weird.
  The sunlight isn’t stagnant either. The bright patch has moved down the hall since I sat down to type.
  It’s fascinating and worth the time to study the different colours of shadow. The objects that are closer to the wall are much darker; their outline much crisper. The farther away from the wall, the sunlight creeps around the edges of the silhouettes, blurring their lines.
 
  Since last week, I’ve been chewing on the idea of making peace. How does one go about it?
  I’ve started to do some grieving this week upon facing the reality of the super extreme, guarded watchfulness that accompanies me everywhere I go. I grieve this dark companion that has been so much a part of my life for so long.
  Making peace: holding the shadows up to the light of Jesus.
 
  My mom and I had a conversation about the ball chasing/police sidecar memory. While she has no recollection of these events, the recent posts reminded her of something that happened when I was around the same age. She remembered me running down the middle of the street, my mouth wide open in a scream, utterly terrified by the noise of a train and its horn. This happened when we first moved into the area. She said I eventually got used to the sound.
  While I don’t remember this event specifically, I remember the train and being told to never play near the tracks. They were close by, just behind the houses across the road.
 
  Now there’s an interesting connection…loud things are dangerous. Is that why the snarly car passing us during our walk up the road caused me to nearly leave my skin behind?
  To this day, fireworks and thunder are a couple of my least favorite things.
  So, loud noises being dangerous…are they really? Of course the noise in and of itself isn’t but the noise usually accompanies something that is…(smile)… explosions and thunderbolts. Fireworks are also accompanied by crowds of people…another of my least favorite things.
  I’ll leave that investigation for another day.
  The fundamental and childlike idea of sounds being dangerous has been a foundation for a great deal of my fear. It has caused me to listen and be alert. While this may seem silly, all the grown up, sensible me wants to do is grab hold of the screaming little girl, hold her tight and tell her she is safe.
  And maybe then, I will find peace because, my friends, there is nothing silly about fear.

Knock and It will be Answered

 
  “Lord, don’t hold back your tender mercies from me. Let your unfailing love and faithfulness always protect me. For troubles surround me—too many to count!” Psalm 40:11-12
 
  I had an appointment with my psychiatrist yesterday. After sharing about the hyper vigilance, he offered wise advice such as getting some short term counseling.
  I went hunting for options. You know, the internet has online groups for those of us who suffer with this malady. They might be worth checking out. My pastor has also offered to be there for me if I need to talk.
  There’s the writing, too. Prayers typed out. God’s way to bless me with insight.
  The doc said something very affirming, too, about the lifelong challenges of PTSD. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving…be kind to yourself.”
  It is life long.
 
  That realization hit me hard after work. I came home very tired from paying attention to my mind and body in their hyper mode. I was aware how much I listened and when a noise happened like a thump from the upstairs apartment, nerves fired in preparation to run before it was assessed and discarded as non-threatening. This happens in less time than it takes to blink. It happens a lot throughout the day.
  There is an upside…Lord, you always help me find the upside! Despite the general noises of the building, I can quickly identify a knock at our door without fail. Hmmm…is that part of why I listen so hard? I don’t want to miss meeting the needs of our visitors?
  Downside: paying attention like this feeds the need to listen, too.
  How do I begin to differentiate the two? How do I turn off the inner body guard while still performing the duties of my job?
  I have no idea.
 
  A memory has surfaced. My ex worked shift work. Late evening would have me listening for the sounds of his stirring. One, to make sure he woke up and two, the moment the shower turned off, I would leap up to put the kettle on, make some toast and pack his lunch. There were consequences if I didn’t.
  This is not love, by the way. Nor was it motivated by love. Fear had superseded the love I had for him by this point in our relationship.
  My daughter shared with me years later how much she hated when I did this. I regret teaching her the unspoken lessons about being a woman she learned from my submissive, fear filled behaviours.
  So fear…fear of what? Abandonment? Rejection? Loss of financial security? Having someone angry at me? Failing in my duties as wife? (Lord, I thought we’d dealt with that!)
  It’s ironic that all this fear became the reality but that’s why I came to know Jesus. While there has been tremendous healing, thank You for showing me there is still stuff hidden deep in the recesses of my brain.
 
  Remembering this has uncovered a couple of core beliefs: I have to listen in case I miss something and fail in my duties. Failing at my duty is the path to upheaval and destruction of life as I know it.
  Core beliefs have a tendency of being vague and all encompassing (not to say exaggerated.) Whether or not they are true doesn’t matter. They are formed through a subjective perspective that shapes how I experience, view and remember personal events. They are a truth shaped by how I see the world. In turn, they shape how I see the world. Groan…it’s complicated.
  It’s good to know Jesus is filling my soul with fresh perspectives and gradually replacing such destructive understandings with things that are far, far better.
 
  I have co-workers who are also listening for a knock at the door. It's not all on me.

A Few Conclusions

   “He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.” Psalm 40:2

 
  The eagles weren’t around the nest yesterday. A friend has seen some a few miles south of here so it won’t be long.
   Despite the bitter cold wind that slipped icy fingers through the fabric of my winter clothes, it took a walk up the road to know the eagles weren’t at home. It was a walk with friends who were just as excited about the potential of seeing these majestic birds.
  One of those little sports cars with the growly, noisy muffler thought revving his engine right beside us was a funny thing to do. My heart leapt into my throat, the rest of me nearly into the ditch. The devil’s way to try and undermine what God was accomplishing.
  It didn’t work.
  Once the car had passed, snarling away, I focused on where I was walking. There’s a lot of sand beside the pavement, deposited by the snow plow that spreads a mix of salt and sand throughout the winter to keep ice from forming. It made for a mini-beach. It was delightful to briefly imagine there was surf chasing my toes. It help still my racing heart.
  Still, we crossed the street so we were facing against the traffic flow. (Smile, maybe 2 cars drove by after growly passed.) We kept to the side of the road. We mostly walked single file. I was very aware of how ingrained road safety is yet didn’t feel it was necessary to toss it all away. Common sense has its place, too. Trusting God doesn’t mean throwing out all the rules or risking life and limb because you have faith. A human/car collision doesn’t bode well for the person.
  By acknowledging the common sense of it all, a good whack of the fear has dissipated. Even though I’d been severely startled, there were no residual effects. It didn’t steal the joy of being with friends.
 
  Yesterday’s church service was a grim anniversary, being week 52 since The Meeting House went to virtual services due to the growing pandemic.  YouTube has them all by the way. Jimmy gave this week’s teaching, one of several pastors who share the load. The subject was Psalm 40 1:-1, our God of hope. Point after point affirmed almost everything written over the recent blogs to the point it was eerie. (The Holy Spirit is alive and well, isn’t He?)
  Among other things, I quickly wrote down this:
  “When there’s no off button to the feels that you are feeling…”
 
  It’s okay that there are many instances my responses and behaviours are governed by my subconscious. It’s okay to have fears. It’s okay to be broken. Broken can be fixed.
  The contractor I hired to do the renovations introduced me to a product called Mitre Bond. It’s a two stage glue that will hold anything together. It works really, really well. With wood, the wood will break before the glued joint comes apart! Yah...the first time using it, wood ended up securely fastened to my index finger. Good thing skin peels or life would have been awkward. I’ve kept this particular event a secret because sometimes it seems I am stupid to the next level! (FYI, I am laughing about it now.)
  Ok, I’ll be kinder. Inexperienced is more like it.
  Lesson learned: be quicker to pull my finger away if it comes in contact with the glue before it has set. You’ve got about 10 seconds.
 
    I haven’t the faintest idea how this is all connected except to find hope in it all. The goal of walking up the road was completed and enabled peace to blanket some fear invoking childhood lessons. God has affirmed the writing is where He wants me. I’ve had a laugh at my own expense. It’s a good way to start the day. AMEN!

Following the Bouncing Ball

 

  Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, “Anyone who is thirsty may come to me!” John 7:37

  During a conversation with a friend, a strategy began to evolve about how to move forward in this journey to disarm the all pervasive hyper vigilance.
  I am exceedingly grateful that God has honoured the “why” throughout my walk with Him. He knows I thirst for the answers that lead to breakthroughs and understanding. Whenever there is a “eureka!”, my cup overflows.
  To clarify, my “why” isn’t questioning God’s choices or plans for my life.  My why is a search to understand the how, where, and what circumstances have led to this moment in time where I am sitting here writing about hyper vigilance. Why is it there in the first place?
  PTSD is only a label. It blankets all the traumatic events and their cumulative effect on my brain with a single identifier. Yet I am grateful to have this label because it gives me a starting point. Ironic isn’t it?
  You know, I just realized there’s a difference between being accepting and being powerless.
  That’s as good a place as any to start.
  A stream of memories is coursing through my head. I will skip the details because a lot of these memories have gone through extensive healing already. It’s why I can remember them without being overwhelmed. Having them brought to mind is because another layer is being exposed.
  Every single one of these memories contain a common denominator…they are events I was powerless to stop due to circumstances, age, gender, upbringing, cultural norms, and expectations.
  So let’s start with that. Feeling powerless.
  In many cases, it’s because of the need for rules to maintain order or to keep me safe, particularly as a child. Help me, Lord, discern which are necessary to hold on to and which can be discarded.

  As a little girl, my brother and I were involved with the local police in making a safety movie or commercial. I chased a ball (big and red?) into the street. A car screeched to a halt. I remember the car and the noise the tires made on the road even though there was plenty of distance between us. It scared me nonetheless.
  The high point was we got to go for a ride in the sidecar of a police motorcycle after filming. My brother complained about my long hair getting in his mouth because he sat behind me. (Smile, some safety, we didn’t wear helmets! There weren't seat belts either! Oh how the times have changed...)
  This memory has been investigated before for various reasons. I am thankful this morning to realize the screeching car was part of an act. I’ve remembered it over the years but believed it was a real event. The fear was remembered.
  That’s interesting. A threat doesn’t have to actually be a threat to generate these auto responses. It’s about perception. This doesn’t mean reacting to a perceived threat is wrong, it’s a personal perspective.    If that perspective is already skewed by feeling powerless, events will be remembered through that lens of understanding. (Notice I didn’t say misunderstanding. This isn’t about right or wrong. It’s about what is.)

  Hyper vigilance is the subconscious being attuned to real or perceived threats and the potential threats that abound in each particular environment. It's the sniffing bunny.

  Okay. This is one piece of why leaving the house comes with a firing up of adrenaline.

  Simply being near a road has triggered incredible fear even if there isn't a car in sight. Oh, Lord, I had no idea that putting the garbage out or getting the mail caused such turmoil.
  So perhaps I can start practicing being fearless around roads. Yes, there's a bit of traffic and yes, it's important to be watchful, but there isn’t a ball in sight. 
  The Bald Eagles just north of here should be returning to their nest any time now. I thoroughly enjoy seeing them. It means walking up the road but that's okay.

  Can you believe it? I've set a goal! LOL.

Confessions of Fear

 

  “Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.” Mathew 7:7
 
  This is a promise to stand on. This is a promise to hope on.

  While sharing with my home church last night about my growing awareness of the all pervasive hyper vigilance, in a somewhat joking, somewhat wistful way, I said it would be wonderful if I had a secret compartment; one that could be opened with a tiny screwdriver. Inside is the little black off switch to power down the adrenaline.
  (Smile.) God left that out of His perfect design so this means His design is able to do it another way.

  It’s paid to be mindful over the last couple of days as I headed out to the stores to pick up a few items and to get my shaggy, Covid lockdown hair shorn.
  While I’ve always known that visual stimulation is a trigger for anxiety, it was interesting to become aware that crossing a parking lot is an exercise in alertness, wariness and on tippy-toes-ready-to-run guardedness. It is common sense to be alert for cars backing out to avoid being hit but this was over the top.

  For hours after work, I could feel every nerve ending tingling with pins and needles: aftershocks of unreleased adrenaline that took most of the night to dissipate. Up until now, this has been a part of being away from home for an extended period of time. It was interesting to be aware how much I listened for any sort of threat containing noise while tucked away in my office. Previously a sub-conscious practice.

  Identifying what I am afraid of is the purpose behind this being cognizant of what is happening in my mind and body while going about daily tasks. I know as a believer I am not to fear the terrors of the night but these are terrors of the day.  It’s time to admit that being afraid of everything and nothing is a legacy of PTSD.
  I guess the fear of “something happening” is the worst. There’s irony there…something happens all the time and it isn’t all bad! It’s good to remember that.
  My faith kept me from admitting this before now. Deuteronomy’s, “Be not afraid,” fills me with guilt and shame because I am. I thought being afraid implies I don’t have faith, that I don’t trust God to keep me safe so I’ve over-ridden the fear, ignored it, numbed it…basically ran from it while at the same time knowing it consumed my every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment. It takes a super human effort to do this that is unsustainable.

  
  It’s no wonder exhaustion has moved in and this ole gal is done with the status quo. (Smile.) Having nothing left is good because, instead of relying on my own strength, admitting weakness is the source of strength.
  It’s time for some truth.
  God, I am afraid. All the time. I need Your help to identify these fears so they can be faced head on. It’s time to dismantle this vague and all pervasive generalized anxiety. You have so kindly and tenderly dismantled and healed so many other aspects of the trauma and heartbreak I’ve experienced. You have shown me time and again by tearing down the old, a foundation is put in place for the new.
  I am ready for new…desperately so.
  Thank you for hearing my prayer. AMEN!

I have understanding. 2 Timothy 2:7

 

    I started drawing mandelas the other day. They help me put the mental filing cabinet back in order. They force me to be still physically and mentally as I draw the repeated patterns round and round the circle grid. Without calm, without this off button, understanding cannot form.

 

  It’s led me to understanding more about living with PTSD. Symptoms include flashbacks, panic attacks, nightmares, anxiety, disassociation and hyper vigilance amongst other things. I’ve read the list often enough. Totally understand the flashbacks and panic attacks although they have lessened in severity over the years. Nightmares. Yup. They are pretty self explanatory. Anxiety is ever present, for the most part.

 Hyper vigilance is been described as a state of extreme alertness that undermines a quality of life. Maybe those who defined it weren’t able to explain it any better, not having lived experience.  

  There has been a big “ah-hah!”  It’s been a while.

  What I have previously thought was disassociation isn’t.

  I can thank Covid for this. There hasn’t been anywhere to go except for the grocery store and work. It’s given me time to realize why the crash came after trying to work four days a week. It wasn’t the stress of the job or the change. There weren’t any new skills to learn. I simply expanded the amount of hours I did the role I was used to.

  But it left me utterly exhausted. Eight weeks and I was done. It took months to recover.

  Now I understand why.

  When I leave the house the high alert setting kicks in. It’s the déjà vu mode where the world around me takes on a surreal quality. What I thought was disassociation must be what a state of extreme alertness feels like. The déjà vu comparison is the best one I can think of.  

  This is not a conscious response. This is not because I am afraid to go out or even that there’s anything out there that is going to cause me harm. At least, I consciously realize this. The subconscious mind has its own ideas.

  Here’s the why I wasn’t able to continue working the extra time: it was eight weeks of adrenaline induced alertness to everything that was all around me without adequate time to decompress. Eight weeks of constantly assessing a thousand micro inputs to the senses without being consciously aware this is what I was doing. Like a rabbit sniffing the air before he leaves his burrow…It’s something rabbits do without thinking. It’s what they learned is necessary for their survival.

  This is my brain’s default setting.

  It’s been trained well.

  When I stop and think about it, I realize the hyper alertness has been my constant, silent companion for as long as I can remember. Which, while sad to say and even sadder to realize, means that feeling safe has been a rare event.

  There are moments now that I do. They are precious, those moments when I catch a glimpse of peace.

  So where do I go from here? I have no idea if there is a permanent off switch. Probably not. There are still occasions when the auto-response fight or flight can save your life. It’s why we have it in the first place.

  I think kindness is a good place to start. I need some advice, too, on how to re-teach the rabbit. Not every situation hides a wolf. It would be nice, too, if it didn’t involve simply pushing through. I’ve had a life time of that as well and I am tired of the fight.

 

  Lord, I give thanks for this fresh insight into life as I know it. Help me not treat this as being wrong even while I pray for something better. AMEN!