Cloudy with a chance of rain

English: Family of Great Crested Grebes. Two a...

English: Family of Great Crested Grebes. Two adults and two chicks sitting on a parents back. Other parent bringing fish. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well, some good stuff and some bad stuff. Good stuff being that I am on the shortlist for an award which is pretty cool, that the house is coming together, albeit slowly, and I am about to volunteer at a street pastor-type thingy in my local town. I’m just waiting to be told when I’m working there.

On the down side…had a bit of a row with the parents. I don’t know why, but all this week I have been finding it difficult to wake up, and difficult to get myself out of bed. It isn’t anything physical, but a sort of bone-weariness and confusion that I normally associate with periods of depression. Yet, outside mornings (and frankly, early afternoon too) I am fine, my mind is clear and my mood fairly normal. So I don’t know what is happening. In any case, my parents find it really difficult when I won’t get up in the actual morning. They worry that I am ill, they worry about my missing my medication, and they don’t know whether they should talk to my psychiatrist. Unfortunately that mood in me makes me irritable and stubborn. So, the more they tell me I should get up the more I say I will not, we end up having shouting matches when they say things they don’t mean (which I later use to torture myself when depressed) and I say things I don’t mean either. It is true what they say, I behave childishly – in part because I view them trying to get me up as them treating me as a child. I do tend to think that, at 31, I should be able to decide what time I go to bed and what time I wake up. I find the level of attentiveness of my parents a bit overwhelming at times, although I know it is out of love and I would miss it if it were suddenly withdrawn.

So I argue, and I say horrible things, and they say horrible things and we all have a dreadful time. And it is my fault. Past a certain point I become perverse, and I seek to annoy as much as humanly possible, so that they will get angry and say horrible things and then I can confirm to myself that “they don’t really love me”. (I have written a piece about this very thing on Believer’s Brain) Of course, writing this now, I know perfectly well that my parents love me very much, and I them. I am neither a terrible person who is hated by all, nor are they tyrannical people intent on babying me. But that mood makes me a horrible person, and a bad daughter.

Sounds like I am blaming my behaviour on my moods, and not on myself, but I know it is me and I bear the responsibility for my actions. The fact that I have a mental illness…well you can’t be tempted by something you don’t, however secretly, desire.

I must love my neighbour, and honour my parents, a lot more. What I find hard is that we are so close that we can all push each others’ buttons, and a bad word from them means more to me than from others. I am actually close to them, very close, and dependent on them for my emotional well-being far more than is probably healthy. I am also dependent on them monetarily, and it is because of them that I am able to lead a comfortable life on benefits. I have much to be thankful for. I just need to realise it more, and try to behave to those who I love more like I would behave to a stranger, or even to someone I disliked. I can be polite and fairly friendly to people I don’t like very much – but for some reason I hurt and wound those who I love the most.

I need to get over this. I need to grow up.


Moods and Moving

English: This photo illustrates smoke in a pub...

English: This photo illustrates smoke in a pub, a common complaint for those concerned with passive smoking. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well, I have finally got the internet back!

I moved house on Tuesday, which was horrible. It still isn’t very nice, as we’re not unpacked yet! The next day I went down to London to stay with a couple of friends.

This was a bit of a mistake. As you know I have not been feeling 100%, and then moving house and travelling the next day seems to have done weird things to me. Anyway, I saw my friends, which was lovely, and we went to the pub for the evening. They had work the next day so they lent me some keys and said I could come back later. What did I do? I went and had far too much to drink, sat up late into the night with the landlord’s daughter, came back to their flat and was too drunk to figure out the lock, and ended up waking my friend at three in the morning. He was, obviously, not very happy about that.

Next day I was in the flat by myself, and proceeded to smoke like a chimney, further upsetting my hosts, neither of whom smoke. (I did have permission to smoke, but they were not expecting me to smoke so much!) As a result I don’t think I am their favourite person right now!

I can’t remember a great deal about my trip bar those moments, as it happens, which leads me to think I have embarrassed myself in other ways but my mind has mercifully hidden them from me. I am really irritated with myself. How could I have been so thoughtless and inconsiderate? I love my friends, why didn’t I treat them with respect?

I, at this point, have to stop myself from thinking that I’ve blown it, that they will hate me forever, that I am a bad person who has forever fallen from grace. With me, you  see, there is a drive for perfection which, if I fail in any way, makes me feel like a horrible person who deserves nothing, not even to exist. I am aware this is a problem. I also know that my friends have been my friends for some time, that they have seen me when I was really ill, and therefore a pain in the backside, and are still my friends. This voice of self-criticism, of self-hate, is really irritating, as well as being the root of my mental problems.

With regard to faith, on the one hand Christianity teaches that we really are not good enough, that we never can be good enough, but on the other it teaches that we assume goodness, that when God looks at us he sees the perfection of Christ and not our own troubles. That we should strive for sinless living, but that he is there to catch  us when we fall. I have trouble accepting God’s forgiveness, accepting God’s acceptance of myself. At heart, and for all my head knows differently, I strive for works-based righteousness, to use the “Christianese” term for it, I strive to be good enough for God. And that I can never be. I wish that I could lay aside this quest for perfection and live, knowing I am “good enough”, a good enough person, a good enough Christian, good enough for God and that is all that matters really. My mother once went to a course where they talked about being a “good enough” parent – and that stuck with me, that we can try, and we can torture ourselves when we fail to meet up with a standard of perfection, but if we can learn to accept that we are good enough, that we are trying our best and doing what we can, then we can be more content. I tend to think I should be like that in my faith life as well.

And in general just be able to chill a bit! The trouble is that I don’t know how to silence that drive, how to drive out that voice, how to just let go, and relax.

Over the past few days I have been feeling strangely anxious – partly because of the move, and partly to do with London, I think, and somewhat down. Nothing too bad, but of concern given how well I have been for the past year. I hate it when I get the anxious feeling in my stomach but don’t know what is causing it. I really am guessing that it is the move/London which is causing me problems, I don’t know for certain. I was going to see the psychiatric nurse, but I am a bit worried. You see I am hoping to persuade my psychiatrist that I do not have borderline personality disorder (or, as it says on my notes, emotionally unstable personality disorder) and I am worried that if I admit to illness, even such a slight one as I have been having, that that very slightness will be seen as emotional instability rather than a minor variation on the bipolar scale, as I believe it is. So I am avoiding her, and hoping it will go away on its own. Maybe a bad decision, but who knows.

In the meantime I am going to try relaxing alternatives, baths and suchlike, and, of course, reading the internet!

Moving House

Red folding chair

Red folding chair (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve spent the last few days packing, packing, packing. I am a bit knackered now!

Mentally, I’m a lot better. I think I wound up in a panic about the move, and the fact that the day after I move house I’m going down to London, that combined with my lingering down over the job I had, well altogether I think it just made me unwell. I have been fine the past few days.

I finished my series on my other blog and am taking a small break. We’re moving tomorrow, and won’t have the internet connected up until Monday (thanks, BT!) so I won’t be able to post anything. I think I’ll use the time (when I come back from London) to do a little research.

I made an impulse purchase of the Logos Scholar’s Library which is a computer program with Bibles, commentaries and such. It is amazing and has me all excited. I can research! All the things! It was an attempt to cheer myself up when I was down (I tend to do that) but fortunately I have wanted it for ages and can afford it. I did my “Cutting and Marking in the Bible” post using it, actually.

So I’m feeling quite upbeat. I daresay I will be a bit miserable tomorrow – the first night in a new house has always been hard for me, but I have books, and my new program on my computer, so I should be ok. And the next day I go to London and see my friends, and one of those friends is turning 80 so I have bought him a new pipe and some tobacco. The cat will have to stay in for the next three weeks or so so I will get plenty of cuddling done once I get back!

I have been looking after the neighbour’s cat this week, which has extensively dribbled on me! It is a nice cat. It’s owners are back tomorrow in the early hours, apparently, so I will let them sleep and then return their key. I replaced all its litter, gave it a cuddle and some food and water so the cat is quite happy for tonight!

Tomorrow I will apparently be spending my day in the new house, because the men won’t need me, they’re doing all the shifting (for which I am profoundly grateful as my back is complaining at the moment) so I shall take my folding chair and walk!

So, for a week, toodle-oo!

Bit of a Fall Down

Wooddut by Hans Brosamer of the Fall of Man fr...

Wooddut by Hans Brosamer of the Fall of Man from the 1550 Wittenberg Bible of Martin Luther (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well, I didn’t do too well last night. I had a sudden dip in mood, and couldn’t seem to get out of it. I farted about on the internet, read things, tweeted, but couldn’t shake it. I spent a lot of money on a Bible program, trying to cheer myself up (fortunately I didn’t go too mad, I can afford it and I will love using it). The cheering-up didn’t work. Then, I sat up late letting the software download, at which point mum came in and told me to go to bed. I reacted badly, told her no in a rude way, we had a little argument, she swore at me, she went to bed and I cut myself.

I am really disappointed in myself. It has been ages since I last did it, and here I am writing a series about self injury from a Christian perspective and I go and do it again. Maybe the focus on self harm is why it came to mind – because frankly, I’m not that down. I’m a bit down, but I am aware that I’ve been an awful lot more ill than this.

I think, to be honest, that the reason I’m down is because partly, the job I was doing and which triggered all this off for as-yet unknown reasons, but also the fact that I’m moving house in a few days. I hate change, and change has a tendency to make me ill as it is, but I particularly hate changes to my home life. I know that I’m going to a nice place and all, and I will enjoy having lots of space – it’s just that I find it hard to live somewhere else. I’m also disappointed in myself for failing to keep what was a simple, easy job. Instead I became a bit ill and scarpered before it got any worse.

Oh well. I have to keep telling myself that I am worth it, that I am loved (by friends and family, but also by God) I am doing ok, just a bit of a dip. Today I have been much better, since about midday (and no, I did not get up at midday!) I have been ok. Somehow the stress of moving, now that today we have actually been packing, has gone away. So fingers crossed it will stay that way!

First Postings

This is a photo symbolizing the job search in ...

This is a photo symbolizing the job search in today’s economy. Out of the darkness, there seems to be a ray of hope–but where? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So, what’s happened today? I’ve been clearing out the house (I’m moving on Tuesday) which isn’t very interesting at all.

I’ve been feeling a bit better today – I spent the last week or so in a bit of a depression, which I was worried would turn into one of my mega-depressions. I think it happened because I was in a part-time job until last week which had started to make me anxious and I had started to get depressed while I was there. I really don’t know why – the job was easy, not much was expected of me, and the customers and staff were nice. So why did I get down? I am meeting with a CPN on Monday to try to figure it out.

I’m worried about it, really. What if I can’t stop this? What if I am doomed to constantly starting low-level jobs, being ill, being off sick, losing the job, benefits, getting a job, sick again…and so on? I know people who think that I just don’t want to work but I do – I just want to stay well! I keep trying different jobs in the hope that I’ll find one where I’m not ill, but I haven’t been lucky so far.

It is something that is troubling me at the moment, but I am not sure what I should be doing about it. I’m lucky that my advisor at the Jobcentre hasn’t told me off, or sanctioned me or something. She’s been ok, which is good. I’m just embarrassed about telling people at church/the pub about it in case they think I am one of the Daily Fail’s famous “scroungers” which is what one of my “friends” in London called me before I moved up here. I certainly don’t feel able to tell anyone up here about the mental illness, not with the potential prejudice that might evoke, but I hate keeping this a secret. It is a big part of my life and I don’t like not being able to mention it. One day…

Anyway, that is what is on my mind at the moment. Not sure what I should be doing.