Tag: hope

Changes ahead

Changes ahead

I’m going to make some big changes to this blog over the next week.

It has been many weeks since I’ve posted regularly. My husband has been coming through major surgery for cancer. Another family member has been through severe trauma. We have been struggling through a heavy load of financial issues since last autumn. My PTSD symptoms are worse. I’m not coping with day to day basics as I want and expect myself to. I could go on.

However a big reason I want to make changes in this blog is that my posts have been too sporadic and too distressed and distressing. I don’t want this site to be just me venting and screaming about how hurt I am. That doesn’t help anyone.

Yes, I want to be totally honest in what I post. Totally real. I don’t want to turn the blog into a falsely cheerful, superficially positive story. After all I’m talking about very present and painful trauma, illnesses and struggles. I am not going to pretend that I have all the answers or that I’m “over it” and nothing can touch me.

Yet I am more than the damage done to me and the hurt of every day. I want to try to find that. I want to write about that. I want to be thankful for all of me and all of every day. Also, I want to incorporate more focus on what helps me cope and even heal.

I want to have a regular posting schedule and more defined sections on this site so I can share what’s happening in my life week to week, but also share information about what helps me and may help readers, answer readers’ questions, post in response to reflection about what’s happened to me in the past, how I tried to cope and why. I want this blog to be helpful to readers, partly through reflecting what living with PTSD and borderline personality disorder is like, partly through sharing resources and information.

Big changes are coming up. Please watch this space! Thank you!

Ginny xxx

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I don’t want to bring only despair

I am sorry I have not written in many weeks.

I am shattered.

There seems to be no end to the pain and suffering my husband and others I care about are going through. No end to how many times we are brushed off or turned away by all those who should support us. My husband is seriously ill physically and mentally and we are utterly overwhelmed by what he is dealing with and the fear of what’s to come and the frustration of being passed from department to department in the hospital, ultimately left to cope alone.

It feels like fighting and screaming for help in a massive black hole I’m at the bottom of whilst the people I would have depended on stand way above me at the edge of the pit and sneer and laugh at me. And it’s so many times worse because I’m crying for people I love to be heard and helped and understood, not for me.

I’m exhausted. I’m in a huge amount of pain. I’m struggling to do more as I’m “supposed” to but the pain is worse and worse and I don’t know how much more I can take. Physically, so many small things are now really difficult. So many things I want to help my husband with, I’m physically unable to. I’ve been going through a very bad time with family realising how the abuse I suffered is actually not over and people whose behaviour I excused, actually perpetrated abuse; how control and manipulation is still happening in my family and hurting vulnerable people.

Worse still, family members refuse to hear me when I speak out about what’s happening, precisely because I’ve been abused – they use this to say that the problem is me and that I’m the one with a sick view of the world.

This negativity and exhaustion and despair is not what I want to bring to this blog. I want it to be honest but I don’t want to write time and again about hurt and loss. When I started this blog I wanted it to be about hope. Holding on to hope is very hard right now. Lots of days I can’t write at all. I desperately want to share good things and desperately need to be more thankful. When I’m so low all I can do is try to walk through the day and I have no words left.

I need to figure out what changes I can make to shape this blog differently; to still be honest but write more consistently and change the balance of what I post about.

Ginny xxx

A beautiful day

Today was amazing. I don’t know why but we were both full of hope for the future. It wasn’t that the many obstacles in our way at the moment had been moved. Yet we both felt lifted up by God’s grace. The magic and beauty seemed to be stirring in our hearts and giving an energy Ive never felt before. This evening I’m buzzing and high even though I’m exhausted physically and mentally. The voices are telling me this happiness and goodness isn’t for me and doesn’t happen to me; they are trying to fill me with the dread and guilt I always feel after any brief elation.

No. I choose Jesus. I choose my life by grace with Him and in the love of my fiance R. We are richly blessed. We are created for good.

Thank you Dear Jesus.

Ginny xxx

God whispers and the world is loud

I stumbled across this quotation today.

It’s apt for me. I need to rest and listen for God’s “still small voice of calm”. Amid anxiety, distress, confusion and an awful lot of dishonesty around me right now, His voice guides and assures and gives hope for now and the future; His voice is always there if I allow myself to hear Him. I know He is with me working out His plans. Where I am right now, He needs me to be and needs me to serve Him.

I don’t know who drew the beautiful illumination in the quotation or who wrote it, but I found it thanks to the Facebook page Contemplative Monk.

Ginny xxx

This time next week

This time next week

This time next week we will be in Greece, God willing. My fiancé and I are going away for a few days. It will be the second time I have been abroad before which I hadn’t been for about 14 years, so travelling is still new for me. My fiancé’s family on one side were Greek so it’s important to him. I’m still extremely nervous about the journey but I’m using what it means to him and the good it will do for him to motivate me to continue past the anxiety. I know what beautiful places we saw last time and we have plans of what to do this time.

We are both much in need of rest and it seems impossible to get it at home, where the next medical appointment, the next task, the next step preparing to move house, the next unforeseen problem, always cuts into whatever downtime we plan. It’s been impossible to have quiet to listen to God, or calm and free time together or alone.

“We must never let the noise of the world overpower and overwhelm that Still Small Voice.” – Elder L Tom Perry

Maybe going away will allow us to find some stillness and re-establish a routine starting with prayer. We are longing for freedom from the spiral of pushing through the latest crisis then collapsing exhausted. Having a day out locally doesn’t seem to afford us that and brings more stresses. This temporary escape will help.

In terms of travel anxiety I think I’m feeling pretty much as I did before last year’s trip to Greece. Maybe I should expect to be feeling much more confident now but it’s still a new thing and it might take lots more travelling before my feelings change. Or maybe it’s a feeling I need to accept experiencing and it might vary according to how otherwise strained or ill I am. When I’m less well with my physical disabilities, for example, I know my anxiety about leaving the house for even familiar journeys can be huge. What has changed since the last trip to Greece is that alongside the anxiety, I also have a lot more happy emotions, like excitement and curiosity about what we will see and where we will stay. This motivates me to want to go, rather than it simply being a question of trying to push aside frightened feelings.

I’m full of thanks to God for bringing me on this path and for the amazing understanding my fiancé shows me. I never wanted to go anywhere before but I do with him.

Ginny xxx

Image from patternpictures.com with thanks

This boat is sinking

This boat is sinking

I feel rubbish that all my posts are negative at the moment. Like I can’t say or do anything good anymore or be thankful when there’s so much I really should be thankful for – am thankful for – but I’ve lost touch with it all.

Every single time there’s going to be a short moment or peace or rest the next disaster happens. That’s been life pretty much since I remember and I don’t even have things that bad. It’s stupid. Stupid because it’s insignificant in the scheme of things; when there’s so much deeper suffering everywhere around; stupid because I’ve got this far so why can’t I carry on.

But I’m running out of energy and mind and hope and everything else.

My fiancé’s been rushed back into hospital again today after months of fight with the doctors and being dismissed and going round in circles. We don’t know what’s going on or what they suspect or why they are doing the tests they are now. I’m useless for him because physically I’m so ill at the moment I have been in bed, unable to get up for more than a few minutes at a time.

All I can see right now is confusion, being overwhelmed, people I love hurting, me letting people down, mentally breaking apart.

We are going under Lord, is it nothing to you, the apostles cried out to Jesus as the boat was overwhelmed with the waves. I don’t know how much more storm we can stand right now. Where are you, Lord Jesus?

Xxx

Sleepless at the latest precipice on our path – PIP, and hospital

I so want to be asleep right now but my brain’s awake with useless whirring energy. This week has seemed so long already. My partner was admitted into hospital on Monday night after a fall and worrying symptoms. He was “only” in til Tuesday evening and thankfully is now safe at home but more question marks are hanging over his complex health difficulties right now. We feel so lost navigating the way through to get him the treatment he needs and cope with the process.

On top of this we found out today – through a text message he received whilst he was in hospital – that a big chunk of his PIP (a Benefit paid to people with disabilities) has been taken away following a review he had a few weeks ago. No warning, just stopped; just a text message with no details and no support. We are waiting for the letter detailing the decision. It seems crazy as his condition has worsened so much since his last assessment but it was what I feared would happen, because of my own prior experiences with PIP assessments. This is what seems to happen to so many claimants. With this cut, he will lose his car, because he has it through a mobility scheme tied to the component of PIP they’ve taken away from him. We are both dependent on the car to get anywhere. I will now be housebound except for when I can afford door to door taxis as I am too physically disabled to reach the bus stop and can’t manage on and off a bus without help. He will be in a similar situation. I don’t know how we will get to his almost daily hospital appointments. £25 – £30 per day on taxis there and back is impossible on our budget. I don’t know if we will qualify for hospital transport. Thankfully there are a few weeks before the car is taken away. We can appeal the decision on his PIP but I doubt a new decision will be made before we lose the car. His other Benefits may well also be affected because the rates paid are linked to receiving a certain rate of PIP or not.

So at a time when my partner is already under utmost pressure and stress with his physical and mental health, a legal case relating to one of his injuries, anniversaries of painful bereavements and traumas, finances, and multiple problems involving lies and deceit from people we placed trust in (leading to the collapse of several projects that we so hoped would bring stability and security to us and another family member and the apparent loss to waste of hundreds of hours of work) – now this. Now that one bit of security is gone.

It is hard to know how to carry on. It is hard to know where to get the emotional and physical energy to do what we have to do. I don’t know how to act or respond seeing the person I love suffering, hurting, being treated terribly, being let down and abandoned. My brain kicks into gear with the adrenaline in some way and buzzes with lists of what we have to do now, different outcomes and scenarios. But my emotions can’t keep up. Nor does my physical body. Right when my partner most needs me and I most want to be there.

It feels as though we are trying to find our way on a path through a jungle. Each side of us is dense vegetation and tall trees we cannot see through. We work our hardest at following the path, staying on the path, walking onward. We cannot see far ahead as there are always blind bends. Beyond each blind corner we don’t know how the track may twist or split. Even trying to be prepared for each possible eventuality isn’t enough. There’s always a stone, a thick fog, a sudden precipice you couldn’t see. Worse still, sometimes there are gaps in the foliage and you see through to sunlight and in the distance, a view stretching ahead of a safe and beautiful place. You work out the route you need to take on the rocky path you’re on right now, to reach that place, and your steps are a little lighter. Then without warning, a branch bends down from the trees surrounding you, coils round your middle, it drags you high in the air, spinning, crushing you, and then flings you as hard as it can and you fall back into the jungle again. Any sign of the safe place is gone. You find yourself beside another path but you have no idea what path it is; certainly it’s no longer the one you had worked so hard to follow.

It’s hard to keep on getting back on the path and you lose hope that any of the paths really lead out of the jungle. You almost know that the moment you think of the beautiful place, a branch will grab you and fling you as far away as possible from everything that have you hope.

That’s what it feels like. It’s self indulgent to express it but that’s what it feels like. Focusing only on our pain does no good, but that’s what it feels like.

We do still have homes. We do have the chance to appeal this decision. We can choose hope. We can do all we can to save money. We have so much more than many people and our lives are so different together. I can at least be here always, for my partner. We can trust that Jesus is with us, beside us, reaching for our hands.

I just needed to get it out tonight. Thank you for listening.

Ginny xxx

“…And indeed it was very good.”

After my earlier panic, to ground and orient myself I’ve been meditating on some of the Scriptures that can be read at the Easter Vigil Mass (we are not going to church tonight and will attend the Easter Day Mass rather than the Vigil). One of the passages that can be read at the Vigil is the first chapter of Genesis , that is to say, the very start of the Bible. Fittingly, as we celebrate at Easter our new birth in Christ, sharing His Risen Life, our relationship with God restored by His gift to us, we read in Genesis how we are God’s creation.

However we interpret the creation narrative in Genesis, I think it is very clear that God created for good and created in love. This particularly hit home with me today and chipped away at my constant fear of my own inner badness.

God created light, dark, sky, earth, sea, sun, moon, night and day, every breathing creature, every plant. He created, “and it was so”; he looked “and saw that it was good,”. We are assured ten times “and it was so… and it was good”. Then, to have stewardship of all this good, God created man and woman. You and me. After creating all this good, would He make His stewards bad? Of course not. He created us good. Not only did He create us good but “God created mankind in His image.” He made us in His image and gave to us stewardship of all His wonderful creation, for our joy, for our nourishment, for our good. He looked on us, “and indeed it was very good.”

God is the same yesterday, today and forever. His love never changes or ceases. He created us good, for good. You and I are first and foremost good and loved by God. Loved so much that He created us in His image. Loved so much that however much we mess up, He still desires our good, and calls us back to Him, through His own Son’s suffering, death on the Cross and rising again. God wants the best for us just as He wanted the best for us from the first moment of creation, from the instant He conceived us in His loving heart and brought us into being to be loved by Him, to love Him, and to love one another as He loves us.

And indeed, it is very good.

Happy Easter.

Ginny xxx

Gesthemane

Today is Holy Thursday, or Mandy Thursday. Today we remember – and share in – Jesus’ institution of the Eucharist, the Last Supper where He gave His Body and His Blood for us, so that we should never be apart from Him again. We also recall Jesus’ prayer and suffering that night in the garden of Gesthemane. We wait and watch in prayer.

I was not well enough physically or mentally to go to Mass tonight and watching at the altar. I have been trying to pray, read, listen at home. I wanted to find some words to say, some hopeful answer or some words to write here…. and I can’t. I don’t know what is happening to me. And I feel so guilty. In the liturgy of today, my God and Saviour Jesus has just given the most indescribable gift to us that makes us one with Him forever. He is about to suffer death for us. For me, so that I am lifted up with Him in His resurrection to God. And what do I feel? I feel empty, blank and cannot see for panic and hurt and darkness. Right when I should be thankful, grateful, filled with hope. Maybe what I most hate about this illness, and about myself as I am with this illness, is that unbearable emotions block out everything even what I most believe to be truth.

Jesus asks his disciples “Will you not watch one hour with me?” They also struggled. They were overcome with exhaustion, confusion, grief and fear. Jesus went away a little distance to pray and returned to find them sleeping.

Will you not watch one hour with me?

Here I am, Lord Jesus. My Jesus, I am here, but I do not know what to do or say. I am with You, yet I fear. You give Yourself to me, yet I lose hope. You died for me, yet I deny You and forget You when I despair and when I am consumed by anger or fear. You call me Your own, but I do not know who I am and I’m terrified of what is inside me, of my “others”. You are Love, You made me to love, but when it matters most, I do not feel.

Right after the Last Supper, came the darkness and agony of Gesthemane. Christ was still to go through His ultimate suffering and sacrifice. There was still the Cross, and still the Resurrection, without which everything before would have been meaningless. The way was not instantly rejoicing and light and the disciples did not yet understand what was to come and that Jesus would be risen from the dead. But the darkness and confusion did not mean Jesus’ love was gone away. It did not mean He had abandoned us. Rather, in suffering His love was about to be poured out for the whole world. Everything and everyone was part of His redemptive plan.

Please Lord Jesus, help me know that when it is dark You have not abandoned me. Please help me lay down now the terror of what I am, the terror that I am beyond Your help and beyond Your love. Because that denies the enormity of what You did for us, when I think You came for everyone but me. Here I am Lord, all of me. Please give me the grace to know You came for me.

Xxx

Easter crafts – letting the light shine through

We made stained glass window pictures this week at the day centre where I volunteer with elderly people. In a small group we made three pictures – loaves and fish, the Cross and the sun rising above a tomb with the stone rolled away. Here’s the Cross (please excuse the scribbling where I’ve removed anything that could have identified the location; I’m probably being over-cautious but still…):

I made the templates and then we laid them on laminator pages, filled the designs in with tissue papers then added the top sheet and laminated them. This gave them a shiny finish. Once cut out we attached them to window panes to let the light shine through. My inspiration came from a YouTube video of Christian seasonal craft ideas.

It was trickier to do than I’d expected and tested my patience! The tissue paper did not stay in place easily especially when people with limited movement were handling it. Too easily it could be knocked, or the static between the tissue and the laminator sheets pulled pieces out of place. Surprisingly perhaps, all the clients enjoyed it and persevered. It helped that this week everyone seemed curious and wanted to be involved. With clients who often feel depressed or otherwise unwell, this isn’t always the case. This week the clients’ enjoyment encouraged me to keep going even when I thought everything was going to go pear shaped.

Thanks to one of the other staff members we were able to read a bit about how stained glass was and is made and where the colours come from.

We were very happy to do an activity strongly rooted in the hope of Easter. Of course compassion and generosity and love underly everything we do with the clients and we almost always learn, discover and receive blessings as well. However we wanted to do something explicitly exploring God’s gift to us at Easter. In our pictures, each side of the central Cross, the bread and fish represent Jesus’ presence amongst us, His feeding us, His Body given for us 2000 years ago and still on all the altars of the world; the empty tomb and rising sun represent God’s Son Jesus rising from the dead, as He is with us on earth so He is lifting us up to Heaven to be with Him where He is gone. The Cross itself we decorated in bright colours not dark. The Cross is deepest suffering but also and inseparably, our only hope, because there Jesus restored the ruptured relationship between God and man, so that we can now joyfully call Him Heavenly Father. There God’s light shines through to heal our broken hearts.

This Lent time seems to be passing faster and faster for me and I’ve felt I’m grasping at desperate moments to pray between crises, responsibilities, pain and dissociation. It was important to me to have this little time trying to reflect on the Easter promise with those Jesus loves so much, the frail and lonely. Thank you, Lord.

I’m praying for moments of peace throughout your every day.

Ginny xxx