Why I haven’t been posting

25 06 2008

I haven’t been posting much lately because I have been sorting through some things in the spiritual and natural realm.  This is the Angela Equivalent to the little loading screen with the hourglass.  Process 60% complete.

In the physical, we are once more reunited with all our stuff.  Some of this stuff has been hanging out in the garage of our old home for three years, to be moved to a garage at the small house for three months, to be crammed in a storage unit & delayed by low-hanging cables for several weeks.  Now it has finally been released to parole in my living room and is waiting to be processed.   Why do I have all this junk?

Pants that don’t fit, decorations I don’t like, toys I don’t remember buying, books I’ve read six times… these things are easy to put in the Goodwill box.  But I opened one box (labeled as textbooks but actually containing clothing) that was crammed full of memories.  It was all little baby clothes.  The little khaki jacket Patrick wore when he was six months old.  Brenna’s first dress that her tiny curled red feet peeked out of.  The little aqua sleeper suit that was the one outfit I purchased for Donal on my own.  Michael’s bomber jacket handed down from Gregory.  I had to hold each garment and sniff, walk down memory lane, get lost in nostalgia, sigh for their lost babyhood, fold it carefully… and put it back in a box.  Some things are too precious to throw away.  I hope some day I will be bringing out this box to dress my grand kids in.  Neal’s baptism suit is in there.  There’s a suit my father wore, a sweater set knitted for Neal’s father, and baby dresses Elizabeth and I wore.  So much history in one little box!

So I have been dealing with my “stuff.”  I have also been going through Elijah house counselling and dealing with some other stuff.  Worn out resentments, patched relationships, half-forgotten needs, sharp memories and some bad habits.  That sort of thing.

You know, to say I am depressed now means a totally different thing than it did eight years ago.  Eight years ago, before Jesus saved my life, I wanted to kill myself.  I still practiced self-mutilation, and dealt with an incredible amount of tormenting thoughts that made it nearly impossible for me to function in social situations.  I could perform for the length of time a party took, but I would literally be chewing on my wrists on the way home.

Knowing God, knowing Christ, has been a long, slow journey back from the edge of sanity.  I think non-Christians are rightfully suspicious of people who get “saved” and suddenly claim to have all the answers.  (Though just getting saved can make a huge difference- I know Barbara once told me that the day she was saved she gave up smoking, drinking, and cussing all at once.  Other people have to work for years to get victory over cigarettes or depression.  God works with us all individually.)  I know I was rather abrasive when I first had that “Aha!” experience.  But it has taken years for some of my bad personality traits to be sanded down and for some of my wounds to be healed.

So here I am, eight years into the process, still working on depression.  But it is such a different depression!  No more suicidal tendencies, no more hurting myself, no more hallucinations or delusions or nightmares…  I think the main thing that bothers me now is just feeling like I can’t cope.

I can’t cope with child abuse stories on the news.  I can’t cope with the pile of boxes in my living room.  I have trouble juggling my schedule.  I forget where I’m going.   I forget why I’m here.  Sometimes, in the face of my children’s difficulties, I feel like I’m failing as a mother.  Some times I wonder why I can’t just cheerfully soldier on like so many other homeschooling mothers seem to do, some of whom have eight, nine, or ten kids!  I think when I was born, God left out some of the resilient bounce that lets certain people keep rebounding through life.  I think perhaps he made me a trifle over-sensitive, too self-analytical, and rather too emotional.  But then, some of those qualities also make me the artist and writer I am.  And who, after all, am I to question my Maker?
Maybe he looked down at the earth and said, “Hmmm… do you know what we need here?  We need an overwrought, hypersensitive person who constantly eavesdrops and creates dialog out of everything she hears.  We’ll make her a little short and plump with acne and brittle hair to keep her modest… but we’ll also make her warm and affectionate.  A little hypochondriac, artistic temperament, tendency to daydream and wander off the subject… blue eyes, size 8 1/2 feet, loves books.  Yep.  That’ll be just the thing.”

What, in particular, He wants me to do, I couldn’t say.  My current hypochondriac fear is that the scab on my arm (placed right over my first age spot) is actually skin cancer and my literary career will be cut short by my sudden demise in about six months.  I was paranoid enough this afternoon to think about taking pictures of it with my camera to show the dermatologist so he can see how it grew from the size of a pea to a penny-sized spot right before it metasisized and spread to my lymph nodes…   This seems like less of a joke when I think of the woman we were praying for at corporate prayer on Monday night.  She had cancer & wouldn’t let them operate on it because she was having faith for God to heal her.  In two months it had spread, invaded her body and killed her.  Two months from perfectly healthy to dead!

Balancing this is the story of Rachel, who had so many cancer sites in her lungs the cat scan person couldn’t even count them.  She had it on her bones, in her joints and in her brain.  Then she went to a Benny Hen crusade and came back completely healed except for some joint pain in her right shoulder.  The cancer there was so large that when God removed the cancer it left some space that is giving her trouble- filling up with fluid & stuff.  It was an incredible testimony to the way God heals, and certainly not the first one I have heard.

But after Monday night, would have to think hard about having treatment WHILE waiting for healing.  Yikes.

Anyhow, Lisa dear, I have posted.  Hope you have a fab time at your 4th of July reunion.  I must go snuggle Mike to sleep.

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3 responses

25 06 2008
Lisa

Because of overwrought hypersensitive people like you overenthusiastics like me can have a friend who can bring them back to reality. You can’t bring our kind down but you can help keep us grounded. By the way(spell check hates overenthuastis. Not a word I gues.) And vice versa I believe we are friends because we are polar opposites. You keep me grounded, what is it I do for you? oh well – Love ya. Perhaps the weekend thing will happen in July sometime.

25 06 2008
Lisa

AAAGGGHHHH I spelled Overenthusiastics wrong the second time in my comment.LOL

25 06 2008
Coni

So, there you are my friend. I have missed you.
What I am not sure about is why He moved your over sensitive size 8 1/2 feet (or something like that) so far away from Wilmington. He must have a plan for you there. Perhaps that is why you are going through the soul searching now. It will help to make you ready for destiny.
But, seriously, I would never be able to accomplish all that you do in a day Angela. Remember to look at the things that you are doing right. I challenge you to make a list of THOSE things next. Love ya

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