The Thin Line

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10  

  It was a day yesterday, the kind that's loud and busy and emotional and challenging. Loud and busy drain my reserves rather quickly. Tossing in a couple of extra, last minute things, means leaving work at capacity with tears building in my throat. It's a warning sign that things are about to get worse unless I take the time to rest and recoup. 

  It didn't happen.

  I mentioned the rain we've been having. The sump pump in the basement is running non-stop. It seemed prudent to make sure the back up one was working. It wasn't. So after working a crazy day, I stopped at the local Canadian Tire to purchase a float switch. I hoped that was the problem. It wasn't. The pump was done. Back out I go to buy a pump that suited. It took two stores to find the perfect one.

  It doesn't take long to install them. It seems to happen every 2-3 years because they work very hard to keep the basement dry especially in the spring. Using a rubber joint with circle clamps to connect them into the drainpipes makes pump replacement much easier. No gluing required.

  It barely left me enough time to run through a new song for worship practice and grab a quick dinner.

  To be honest, I was more concerned about how full the river is. Sump pumps can't solve that problem if it decides to escape its banks.

  There was a full house gathered for practice: pianist, drummer, 2 guitarists, three vocalists as well as me. I was having some difficulty with part of the timing in the new song so the leader took a few moments to help figure things out.

  I'd been fighting tears all day...overwhelm has a way of leaking out of my eyes. I lost it. A full on panic attack decided to rear its ugly head. After taking a few moments outside to gather myself together, it seemed prudent to go back in, pack up my kit and leave.

  I am proud of myself for leaving. This wasn't always the case. Before, I'd have just pushed through.

  To be fair, this is only the iceberg's tip. The trip to a busy, noisy, big resort and having no time to recover, really, because my septic bed is failing...it's going to cost a lot of money to fix it. I am working on getting quotes. It's a bit stressful to say the least. I ask the Lord to help me choose the right person for the job and will trust in His provision to pay for it.

  My car needs tending to as well.

  And it's tax time.

  Then I was asked to speak in church about my spiritual practice of using art as prayer. It came with a detailed list of parameters. The same person wanted to know more about it so I shared the little booklet designed for a three day retreat friends were thinking of organizing. All of a sudden, I am being asked to be part of a retreat or to run groups and when and what would it look like and we gotta do this now!!! It fits perfectly with the current teaching! When can we meet to talk about it?

  The tears are in my throat at the thought.

  It takes me several days to recover from a panic attack. It takes time to wind down the fight/flight response because once it's been ignited, it's quick to swing into full gear again. It's like being in red alert mode all the time.

  It makes me rather sad to feel this way because my anxiety levels had improved so much with the Gina program. Only God knows if I will ever be healed permanently. And I have to realize too, that feeling this way is also a trigger that reminds me of other panic attacks and the reasons they happened.

  I don't know if I will be up to playing in the service tomorrow. All my nerves are firing. It feels like the pins and needles you get when your arm falls asleep but it's caused by an adrenalin overload. 

  For now, in this moment, and for the rest of the day, I will lean into the Lord for His help as I walk the thin line between chaos and calm.  No one else will do.

  

 This has been a long post but I keep hearing the idea that all of this is about things I have no control over. Nothing says this more than a panic attack!

  Years ago, someone called me a control freak. It was rather unkind because the name calling came after she was trying to bully me into something I wasn't sure about. 

  Being unsure is okay. Slowing down is okay. Embracing my right to make my own decisions is okay Most of all, needing the time to think and pray before making a decision is the best choice of all. And maybe I need to let the important people in my life know this about me, I need time and space before jumping in.

  This is about boundaries, isn't it? The thin line of a different sort. 

  In closing, I have a request, dear readers. It's part of yesterday's deep, emotional impact. Please pray for an expectant, young, homeless woman who is addicted to fentanyl. She is walking her own thin lines. I can't give you her name, but God knows who she is and, sadly, she isn't the only one in this situation. 

  

  

  

Learning Curve

   "For the Lord God is our sun and our shield. He gives us grace and glory. The Lord will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right." Psalm 84:11

  My new laptop came without Word, the writing program. While I am able to create blogs on the Blogger platform, Word is a program vital for a writer. This morning began as an adventure into techie stuff.

  It was easy to find the Microsoft Office Suite I was looking for. Basically, you buy the package, download it and voila! There you have it. What irked me is Canadian websites and shopping opportunities were three to four times the price of US online shops even with taking the exchange rate into consideration! So I bought it from the US.

  Part of me, the one that is still wrapping my head around virtual purchases of virtual products, was skeptical about the whole process. I did use an official Microsoft store just to be safe. Safe and successful. Oh, and relieved the moment the Word icon appeared in my taskbar. It ended up being a whole lot easier than anticipated. It's a one and done.

  

  I haven't had much time to play around with this machine. It seemed to be lacking the little pictures of the sites visited the most, especially the Gmail one. Google is my friend even if it's called Edge. I wanted to have a quick shortcut to Gmail rather than going on line, finding the login...talk about impatient! 

  Long story short, I now know how to add icons to my taskbar! There's one for Gmail, Blogger and the public website readers can see. Must say I am feeling pretty proud of myself. 

  For sure there are people out there who would smile and wink at my ignorance but for the most part, my laptop is a fancy typewriter and that's about all.

  It's raining, heavily at times today. The spring peeper frogs started their nightly chorus earlier this week. It means spring is rapidly unfolding. Then there's a male robin who leaves me wondering if his brains haven't gotten scrambled somewhere along the line.

  My neighbours have a shiny, stainless steel chimney for their woodstove. This fellow has spent hours attacking his reflection, trying to drive the interloper from his territory. He has been doing this for days now. It's a wonder he isn't exhausted. I think it's the same bird that attacked my bedroom window the other morning. 

  Funny story: my housemate, her sister and I had arrived home late from a weeklong trip to the Dominican Republic. I was roused by what I thought was someone repeatedly opening and closing the dresser drawers in the other room. To be honest, it left me rather annoyed, having only had a few hours sleep but when I walked into the living room, the two of them were sitting quietly. Talk about being confused!

  The drawer scraping noise continued until I opened my bedroom curtain. Mr. Robin's wings beating at the window screen made the drawer scraping noise. I don't know who was more startled, him or me! Thankfully, the chimney is keeping him occupied so there hasn't been a repeat performance.

  This ole gal needs her sleep. 

  The trip was lovely. Sun, sand, beach and great food. There was even a miracle.

  I wear a necklace to help counteract the effects of EMF's. It never comes off because it truly helps. As I sat down after swimming, I was thoroughly dismayed to discover it was gone.

  After retracing my footsteps to the water's edge, I looked at the waves with a heavy heart.

  "Lord?" I thought, "The odds of me finding it are a gazillion to one, but You can."

  I returned to the beach chair and sat down.

  Within moments my friend cried out, "Don't move!" She bent over and pulled the half buried necklace out of the sand at my feet. 

  I have no words to describe the gratitude, the comfort this little miracle has poured into my heart on so many levels. That will be for another day.

  May God bless you with your own miracles, big and small.

  

Pattern

"For it was I, the Lord your God, who rescued you from the land of Egypt. Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it with good things." Psalm 81:10

  The ice berg Zentangle is complete. It was a mind stretching process, trying to come up with so many different patterns. I left some sections not filled in. The white spaces are expressions of gratitude. It's important to illustrate the healing the Lord has already achieved.

  

 The white spaces are also about hope. If so much can be changed, it's safe to rest in the understanding that more will come. Patience will prevail.

  I admit I'd like to know when this is going to happen...so much for patience...(smile.)

  The thing about change is it takes practice. It takes having safe people in your life to practice on! It takes having those same people cheering you on even when an attempt to put on the new fails. 

  It's not always easy. I think my biggest challenge is coming to understand that my instincts around an uncomfortable situation are right; that my red flags are to be trusted. 

  It's easier to take a flag down than to put one up.

  Am I afraid of being hurt? Now that's a good question. 

  Perhaps it might be better to say that I am slow to trust. Understandably so. 

  I got thinking about masks yesterday which actually ties into this. We all wear them don't we? Some wear masks of humanity to hide the monster beneath. Some wear monster masks because their humanity is incredibly vulnerable. 

  Ah, yes...the monsters. To be specific, the one in my closet. The one that everyone told me didn't exist. 

  He did, you know.

  I've grieved the lessons this first monster taught me because monsters are very, very real.

  God has restored much of what he and the others took but I've never thought about what was lost when others dismissed my childhood fears.

  Something happens when a child isn't believed. 

  Something far worse happens when a frightened child receives no comfort. 

  (There was a long pause after I wrote that last line...)

  The patterns which made up the identity God established in my soul at birth got blurred, got written over. New ones were written by the strength of shame and shadow.

  By the time my seventh birthday rolled around, I had Dysthymia. It's a form of chronic, low grade depression that wraps the heart, mind and soul in a blanket of fog. It created a mask I didn't even know I wore until being diagnosed in my forties.

  The diagnosis opened a door that had long been closed and with it, healing.

  Thank You, Lord, for giving me the strength to explore these painful events yet again. It sure takes a long time to unravel the complexities of deceptively simple patterns. More importantly, thank You for reinforcing my need to understand it wasn't all my fault. 

  The next pattern? I think it might have something to do with suppressed anger.

  

  

The Eye of the Beholder

   "But I say to you, anyone who looks on a woman to lust after her has committed adultery with her already in his heart." Mathew 5:28

  I don't presume to know what was in his heart as he constantly raked his eyes over my body but it's left me feeling like I need a shower...several of them.

  I ran into someone yesterday who hadn't been around for several years. The weight loss has changed my appearance drastically so he hadn't recognized me. When I came over, he looked me up and down...more than once...and continued to do this the whole time we were speaking. 

  As we caught up on all that's been going on since we last met, he commented on how good I looked. Yes, he praised the efforts being made to lose weight. But...his eyes constantly undressed me. At least, that's what it feels like when men do this. 

  It's an awful feeling. 

  And it's a huge trigger, this being objectified. It's having the living, breathing, feeling, person inside vanish or worse, be of no consequence.

  Jesus has fought too long and too hard to help me overcome the belief I was only a thing.

  This person is going to be someone I have more frequent dealings with. Not by choice but through circumstances. He needs to be told his wandering eyes are utterly unacceptable.

  I need to tell him because if he did it to me, he does it to other women.

  One of the subjects that's come up in the Gina program is understanding why it's more comfortable, more safe, being overweight. It makes you less desirable, less likely to attract the "wrong" sort of attention. My knee jerk reaction is to stop losing weight if this is what's in store.

  It means letting go of the improved self worth. It means letting go of the knowledge around how proper diet keeps the body running smoothly. It means letting go of how much better I feel mentally.

  Because of one man? Are you kidding me? His eyes don't deserve that kind of sacrifice.

 

  What is needed is a strategy to put a very clear boundary in place: a Gandalf boundary that speaks firmly, "You shall not pass!!" I need a metaphorical staff to hammer into the ground...although...having a real one might come in handy. (Smile.)

  I need to show up fully clad in the Armor of God and trust the Holy Spirit to give me the words this man will hear, respect and obey. I need it because this gal is quaking in her boots. Not only setting a boundary but also demanding a change in behavior from a big man who towers over me is scary to say the least. 

  Jesus says, "Be not afraid."

  I'll try because I did stop him from giving me a hug when he left. I simply said, "No."

  

  Wow. The battle is already won.

  

  

  

  

The Ice Berg

  "Let my soul be at rest again, for the Lord has been good to me." Psalm 116:7

  The art called. An image of an iceberg took shape beneath my pen over the course of several hours. It's not finished yet but the time spent has given me an opportunity to meditate on all that it means. It's a hope filled symbol due to the transient nature of ice bergs.

  I ended up doing the underwater section like a Zentangle. Each facet of the berg will have a different pattern. It seemed to be a good way to illustrate all the experiences which shaped it in the first place.

  As I draw, my heart and mind opens to hear what the Lord has to say. What began as a way to illustrate the hidden impact of PTSD has evolved under the tender guidance of the Holy Spirit.

   I got thinking about all the videos showing massive ice bergs flipping over. Mini tsunamis cause the sea to boil as the water wrestles with the force of solid ice surrendering to the inevitable. 

  I got thinking of the photos taken off the coast of Newfoundland showing a parade of gleaming blue and white hunks of ice. They have no choice but to follow the current...south...into the warmth that will render them nothing more than fresh water diluted by the salty sea.

  This has become a lesson in kindness. 

  It's a hard lesson for me to grasp. That's part of PTSD, too. Having a long track record of being treated without kindness means I never learned how. I never thought I deserved such a thing. Kindness was something other people needed...deserved...were entitled to have.

  

  The Gina Livy food program is still being followed. I've still more weight to lose but this part of my life is a whole other post.

  Every morning, I've been choosing "Be Kind" as one of my daily intentions because being hard on myself means I am hard on others. Personal expectations have a way of becoming judgements when others don't think or act the same way.

  

  Patterns of behavior...hmmm...ice berg facets...events...lessons...pain...truth that isn't truth...shame...guilt...fear...shutting down...shutting out...

  And grief.

  Once I was only three...the glacier dipped its toes in the sea and a crack began to form.

  Now I am almost sixty...the iceberg that was calved so long ago is about to tip over...can you feel it?

  

  

 

  

  

  

  

  

After the Fear

 "Let them praise the Lord for His great love and for the wonderful things He has done for them. For He broke down their prison gates of bronze; He cut apart their bars of iron." Psalm 107:15-16

  I had an appointment with my psychiatrist yesterday afternoon which gave me a chance to talk about what was written yesterday. He said something that has given me pause for thought.

  He mentioned PTSD and how triggers can influence our reactions to various circumstances.

  There's the big reactions, the panic attacks, the full on fight/flight responses that get Triggered because of past Trauma. But there's another side of it, triggers associated with trauma.

  The capital T Traumas are those that shape our understanding of ourselves and our place in the world in an instant that remains frozen in time forever. The little t traumas are all those micro events which work together to destroy our understanding of ourselves and our place in the world.

  It's complicated.

  It means allowing my understanding of truth to be adjusted. What I believe is what I believe but that perception, perhaps, has gotten skewed due to the simple matter that my personal fight/flight/freeze/fawn response is particularly quick to act. I become a deer in the headlights when this happens. 

  It happens a lot.

  Because I have been prey for the predators; the kind with a capital P and a little p.

  Which means I think and act like a prey animal: wary and constantly sniffing the air. Hence the fear. And while I am not cognizant of this all the time, sitting here writing about it makes me aware of just how "on" I am all the time. It's why I perceive things as an attack when maybe they aren't...and if they are? I am ahead of the game by already running away or, perversely, shutting down (fawning) rather than sticking around to find out otherwise.

  Do deer ever feel safe?

  The situation with the worship team leader is the tip of a very big iceberg made up of all the times I wasn't heard or allowed to have a say. To be fair, she knows very little about my story. That's something else the doc suggested. Maybe it's possible to have a conversation with her about it all.

  "When you are ready," he said, "And not because I said you have to."

 There can be no love without choice.

  I think what's also very disconcerting is when I played on Sunday, there was a level of disassociation taking place. This, too, happens frequently but again, it's so automatic I am not even aware it's happening. 

  It's fawn's cousin and another coping mechanism used by prey animals. It happens when the predator is about to win. I firmly believe God gave the hunted the ability to separate their awareness from the world around them so death wasn't so painful.

  

  It all all boils down to instinct. The survival methods of fight, et al, and the disassociation that kept me putting one foot in front of the other served a purpose during dark and terrible times. 

  Those times are over. Jesus opened the bronze, prison bars a long time ago. 

  I just need my primitive, survival oriented brain to get with the program. 

  Lord, hear my cry. Show me where to find the off switch! In Jesus name, AMEN!

  PS. I frequently find myself wrestling with the idea that Trauma's offspring are sinful; that the fear, and the associated automatic coping mechanisms are sinful because it means I don't trust Jesus. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The bronze gates may be open but there's still iron bars that need Jesus' love, strength, patience, grace and wisdom to shatter into oblivion. 

  Oh, and I need His light to melt a flotilla of icebergs, too.

  

  

  

Fear

   "For I hold you by your right hand--I, the Lord your God. And I say to you, "Don't be afraid. I am here to help you." Isaiah 41:13

  I have come to realize my life is governed by fear. 

  Self doubt wars with a fear of success. My battle with poor self-esteem is at war with the confidence I seek to embrace yet fear that it will appear as arrogance and conceit. I am afraid of the new because I am afraid old patterns will take over. I am afraid to fail yet, at the same time, the thought of success is equally terrifying. I am afraid of commitment because committing comes with being abandoned and rejected. I am afraid to get it wrong...

  So instead, I do nothing. I bury myself in knitting, in shutting down, in non-thinking because to think is to stir the pot. Knitting fills my mind with counting, with numbers, and wraps it in a security blanket of concentration. All the while, the fears nip at my soul.

  We performed a song yesterday at church, "Made for More" by Josh Baldwin and Jenn Johnston. 

  "I wasn't made to be tending a grave. I was called by name. Born and raised back to life again. I was made for more."

  It was the first time I'd played since Christmas. A much needed break was an opportunity to get my flute serviced which ended up taking longer than anticipated. 

  Most of the time our worship team leader creates a flute part for me but there wasn't one for this song. It meant I could sing. This is a rare thing.

  Several months ago, I'd asked her if singing sometimes would be an option. This request was met with fierce resistance. I guess I am a flute player and that's my role. The end.

  I get it. I get that the flute adds a rich dimension to our performances. I get it that its sweet sound brings joy to others. I get it that we have terrific vocalists who have sung together for years and have mastered many intricate harmonies. 

  I don't know how to harmonize.

  But I could learn a song or two if someone would teach me.

  Because I can sing with the kind of vocal control that enables me to match my vibrato to the lead singer's vibrato. Not doing this would mean my voice would clash with everyone else's.

  It took a huge amount of courage for me to ask in the first place. Maybe she doesn't know

how fear usually stops me from asking for what I want or need. Maybe she doesn't realize she's done what so many others have done when I dared to voice a need or a want. Maybe she doesn't realize she's shut down any hope of being something more than a flute player. Maybe she doesn't realize the cost of my capitulation or the cost of being contained in a role designed by someone else. 

Maybe she doesn't know because I am afraid to tell her.

  "I wasn't made to be tending a grave. I was called by name. Born and raised back to life again. I was made for more."

  I was made for more.

  AMEN!