Recovery

 "Lead me by your truth and teach me, for You are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in You." Psalm 25:5

  Recovery is a powerful concept. In light of what's happened this week, it's a huge comfort to know I will recover. I always have. Sometimes it just takes longer. 

   The body needs time to heal from the fallout of a major panic event. The fact there was a double whammy means patience is needed. There are still residual pins and needles going on because I don't think the brain has gotten with the program and realized it's okay to relax its constant vigil. It will. It, too, always has.

  Time is not the enemy here. Time is my friend. The culture of deadlines and completion dates serves no purpose here. It's a hard one to shake all the same, having been ingrained from an early age. It ties into black and white thinking about success and failure. Meet a deadline, it's a success. Don't, and it's a massive red X on your record; a failure.

  So let's look at the successes instead, the things the Lord helped me accomplish since the last post.

  I went to work...that's a big one! I took care of my roles and responsibilities while there. The last traces of the chaos from the weekend were tidied up and put away.

  The day before was spent in my bedroom doing some reorganizing and furniture shuffling so I could put a wing chair in there. It was important to make room for my friend's mom's chair in the living room and it looks far better than my bigger one. 

  There are still a few things I need to tackle in the bedroom and since it's raining today, It is a great opportunity spend some more time in there because working outside is off the list.

  I've been looking at my gardens lately. There are a lot of them. Most of the plants are fully mature and have helped choke out the weeds but there's still weeding needing to be done. It's a bit overwhelming so I've been pondering getting rid of some of them and replacing them with grass. It's not a decision to make when overwhelm is sitting at my throat but that's what I feel like doing today.

  On a humorous note, my sour cherry tree was loaded with cherries this year. It's the first time it has produced any kind of crop. I've watched a chipmunk run back and forth with a lumpy cheek full of not quite ripe cherries. His home is beside the driveway. He offloads the mouthful in seconds before racing back to the tree! His dedication to preparing for the storms ahead makes me smile.

  Between the rodent and robins, chances are there won't be any to harvest. That's okay. One less task to take care of for now. It's a lovely tree, planted to add privacy more than for its harvest.

  Who knew the Lord would send a chipmunk to take something off the to-do list!

  So, the successes of the last couple of days may not be the kind that require fireworks and ticker tape parades but they are there nonetheless: cooking supper, a trip to the hardware and grocery stores, making a big pot of soup to have on hand and countless other little tasks have been accomplished. But doing things is not a measure of success is it? Being able to live life as it unfolds is.

  I have much to be grateful for. Understanding and compassionate co-workers and friends, chipmunks, the fact my car is fixed and back in the driveway, having the means to pay for the repairs...most of all? The personal and professional knowledge I have amassed about anxiety and panic attacks is a source of hope because this is not a forever state of being. Time is my friend after all.

  With the Lord's help, I will have the patience to ride out time's passing.

  AMEN!

  

  

  

  

  

Hindsight

   All of Psalm 91 but most of all, "When they call on Me, I will answer." v.15

  I shouldn't have gone to the work picnic. It was over an hour away at a place I'd never been. The GPS took me through some of the busiest areas with tons of traffic, stop lights and construction. I wasn't sure where the group was in the huge conservation area so of course my mind added an extra little panic thing,  "Am I in the right place? What if it's the wrong place? I am already late! (Yah...like by ten minutes but being late has always been a thing.)" 

  It was a relief to see familiar people but those thoughts were just enough to send me over the edge into full on panic attack territory. The tears erupted the moment I shut off the car. They didn't last long but started all over again when my boss came over to greet me. Makes me glad I work for a mental health agency who is more than understanding when this sort of thing happens.

  Fast forward a couple of hours and the organizers broke out a get-to-know-your-co-workers game where you are supposed to talk to everyone. The noise of laughter was like thunder to my ears.

  Panic attack number 2 rolled in like a freight train.

  I made the decision to leave and took as many back roads as possible, the kind that wander through fields and forests. It was a long drive.

  In saying all of this, I am thankful to have been able to take my friend's car and go down on my own. (Mine is in the shop getting the brakes seen to. When they start squealing, it's long overdue.)

  Home never looked so good and all I wanted was to have a long soak in the tub to try and diffuse the residual nerve firings. It sort of worked so here I sit, debriefing with you all.

  These panic events are always seasoned with a level of grief. Grief that this is how it is. 

  Anger is part of the emotional storm as well. Anger that this is how it is. 

  So the question is, "Am I angry at myself?"

  I guess I am.

  It's hard not to be. 

  I hate having my body hi-jack my life because there's no stopping an attack when it decides to come. Oh, sure, there's lots to do to prevent reaching this point but I bitterly ask, "What sort of life is that?"

  I hate bitterness far more than being hi-jacked. It's like drinking a cup of poison.

  The bitterness has snuggled up with feeling sorry for myself today. It, too, is poison.

  Neither have any right to be here because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God's plans won't be derailed by one bad day. They won't stop because I need to take some time to recover any more than if this was some sort of flu bug. Hmm...it would appear an attitude adjustment is in order. 

  Why am I being so hard on myself?

  Me thinks that's at least a whole other post if not more.

  For now, taking some quiet time to rest under God's wings is the best place to be.

 

  

  

  

   

Rabbit Trails

  "This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; for He is my God, and I trust Him." Psalm 91:2

  It's hard to believe it's only been a week since the last post. It feels like much longer. Life has been a whirlwind of activity and it finally caught up with me today. The overwhelm tears are sitting at the bridge of my nose, just waiting to fall. 

  Feeling utterly exhausted, I tried to take a nap but the ole gray matter had different plans. I have no idea why the thoughts and memories come up the way they do but it was enough for me to give up and get up. Writing is just the ticket to help calm my mind.

  Part of the thoughts were about not knowing where my riding helmet was. It caused a brief tidal wave of mini-panic before the logical brain spoke up. Silly goose, you haven't needed it for twenty years. It wasn't anything you brought into your new life anyways.

  The thoughts of horses kept on coming...the farm where my friend and I spent a couple of summers just hanging out every day, riding, or just sitting on the horses without a saddle. Time raced forward to the second time I rode my green broke warmblood mare when the body remembered the bareback summers of long ago and my rider's seat returned. Strange thoughts come from a sleepy brain.

  Why the horses, I wonder.

  God is good. A friend just called to see if I was going to go to a debriefing meeting today at 4. It's about the PRIDE event my co-workers organized for last Saturday. I told her I was at capacity and wouldn't be going. It helped to share some of what's going on and I feel much lighter.

  While I wasn't overly involved in the planning of this event, I offered to do all the barbequing being the one who spends a lot of time outside and could handle the extra heat from the grill. The most important reason is being able to stay on the edge of the busyness and not have to interact with a lot of people. It's never been my forte anyways.

  It was loud with live music and lots of people. Once the need for food tapered off, the grill was packed up and I left. It will get a good cleaning the next time I am at the office.

  I'd wrestled with being part of it. PRIDE is about celebrating things many Christians condemn and even resort to hate to justify their actions and words.

  The Lord helped figure out my own stance on the whole idea. As a believer it is very difficult to celebrate and glorify what I view as sin according to my moral code and beliefs. However, as one who has lived without Jesus, it is not my place to point fingers. My place was to support my co-workers in their endeavors regardless of my personal beliefs. 

  I did not wear any rainbow clothing or stickers that denoted my sexuality. Not that there was one for a heterosexual anyways. Inclusivity always seems to leave someone out regardless of what group is celebrating what. This applies to Christians, too, you know.

  Making the decision to go put me in position to pray for everyone there, Ninja style. (Smile.) It made it all worthwhile.

  Yesterday after church we had a big barbeque to celebrate our new pastor. More crowds. More busy and even though I know everyone there, it was a relief when we left.

  Wednesday is another crowd event...a work barbeque and party. It's an all day thing...need I say more?

  My friend and I have also been very busy, emptying her mom's room at the senior's home. When she found out it was going to be offered as a respite room, it seemed important to provide some items to make it homier, just like her mom had it...homey. I've donated a water colour painting that has been sitting in a portfolio for years. We've put new frames on a couple of pictures (yes, this involved shopping at multiple stores) and bought a comfy, easy to get out of chair.

  Her mom had a painting inscribed with Psalm 37:7 hanging above the bed. "Rest in the LORD and wait patiently for Him." A family member wants to have it so we are going to create our own version to hang above the bed. The residence manager specifically asked for this verse to be there.

  Only God knows what seeds this will sow.

  There seems to be a million other things going on but I'm glad to have taken the time to write because my mind is much quieter now. It's too late in the afternoon to try napping again so I think I'll head outside and see what the garden is doing. Yup, barefoot through the grass sounds absolutely lovely!

  

  

Trials

   "God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Mathew 5:4

  It's only lunchtime and the heat has driven me indoors. I spent a couple of hours in the garden deadheading, tying up the snow peas, and generally tidying up. It's enough. My heart has been called to write because my heart is grieving.

  My friend's mom passed away a couple of weeks ago. She had just turned 95 on Mother's day. While all who gathered to mark her passing celebrated that she had gone home to Jesus, her loved ones cannot help but grieve her absence.

  As people shared stories of how much she had been a part of their life, it gave me a far bigger picture of the woman I had never known. But what has stuck with me the most is her role as a prayer warrior. Everyone said at one time or another, Carol's prayers had blanketed their lives. Prayers of protection, direction, peace, healing...anything they needed prayer for and Carol was there, quietly beseeching God on their behalf.

  One story in particular touched my heart because it reminded me of my own grandmother. When someone would call Carol, needing prayer, she would immediately drop to her knees in the living room and pray. I remembered my grandmother reading her Bible, kneeling at the side of her bed. During the season of madness, it gave me comfort to think my grandmother had prayed for me even though she died when I was quite young. I am sure her prayers were about the life I hadn't yet lived.

  It's not something I've been very good about doing. While I frequently say I will pray for someone, it has rarely happened. God, forgive me for my negligence and callous disregard for their well being.

  

  I learned something over the last two weeks. I learned to lean on God even more because my friends are hurting. My abilities to ease their suffering are insufficient no matter how much I want to.

  And maybe that's why the prayers came. Constantly. Throughout the visitation, at the cemetery where my role as chauffeur enabled me to sit in the car and pray for the family as they laid their mom to rest. Prayers flowed during the service and afterwards to have God show me where I needed to be. I also prayed that He would keep me calm in the crowds, in the busyness, in the noise and unfamiliar environments. He did.

  My friend's son shared part of a letter his grandmother had written to him years ago. She wrote about her prayer life. She wrote about not always seeing the results of her prayers but she was okay with that. When God blessed her to witness the fruits of her efforts, she said it gave her an opportunity to express her deep gratitude for the knowing and the answered prayers. 

  This is her legacy. 

  And even though I am not family, Carol's legacy is the same as one my own grandmother left behind. It's only taken me fifty years to realize this. I wish to honour both these women by stepping into the gap their passing has left behind.