Radically

When I first started dialectical behavioral therapy I wondered how I could possibly reconcile the Eastern influences with what I know to be true. I had a closed mind - not only because of everything I mentioned in the last post, but also because I didn't believe that a secular-yet-zenish program would have any truth to offer me.

And yet...

The one principle of DBT that I struggle the most with is also the one that challenges me to a deeper understanding of my relationship with Christ.

The first time my therapist introduced the principle of Radical Acceptance, I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or rage. I HATED it. Passionately.

I'm supposed to accept life as it is? Totally? Completely? Are you kidding me?

I sat in my skills group a few weeks ago watching a video about Radical Acceptance for the second time. All of a sudden I was struck by something - this is where I need to be with God.

• Freedom from suffering (and from sin) requires acceptance from deep within of what is... Doesn't it just? Sin is what is. The reality that we are sinful beings who are separated from God as a result of our choices is something we must accept. Deeply. If there is any doubt in our minds that we are sinful and desperately need God, we will never truly accept His hand on our lives. Freedom comes when we not only accept who we are, but also when we accept who He is. Which leads to the second... Acceptance is the only way out of hell.
• Pain creates suffering only when you refuse to accept the pain. How many of us fight against the life we've been given? How many of us, deep down, believe that God should have done something - anything - different to prevent all the hurts that life throws our way? How many of us, deep down, believe that things weren't supposed to happen the way they did? Most of us I would say, perhaps all. And when we focus on what "should have been" we lose sight of the reality that God has ordered everything according to his PERFECT will. Our pain has a purpose. Our trials have a purpose. Our heartache has a purpose. As hard as it is to understand, God meant for our lives to be the way they are... AND He means to change them.
• To accept something is not the same as judging it good. Just because a tragedy is part of God's plan does not mean it is good. It just works together for the good. Rape, murder, abuse, death... we do not have to approve of these things in order to accept them. They are the reality of life in a fallen world, and they are part of what has to be because we are sinful. Our sin not only makes these things possible, it makes them inevitable. We can't rise above our circumstances until we accept that they are what they are and only God can lift us up out of them.
• Acceptance of reality as it is requires an act of choice. Now, we could delve into one of the greatest theological debates of all time - free will vs. predestination - but both those spiritual extremes are a too-simplistic explanation of our relationship to Christ. God and God alone is responsible for our salvation, but we are not passive participants in God's work in our lives. The call of the Holy Spirit is a call to action.
• You have to turn your mind and commit... OVER and OVER and OVER again. Again, I don't want to stumble into the territory of "once saved, always saved" and losing your salvation, but... the Christian walk requires a daily (and sometimes hourly) renewal of our commitment to God. It requires a continuous need to die to ourselves and live for Him. It requires waking up in the morning and saying, "I accept your Lordship over my life." It requires staring in the face of temptation and saying, "I am no longer your slave." It requires a constant working out of our salvation. Every moment. Every hour. Every day.
• We are to cultivate a willing response to each situation. Our response to the various bumps in the road should be, "yes LORD!" rather than "why me?" Willingness involves giving over control of ourselves to the working of the Holy Spirit in and through us. We cannot radically accept Christ if we are not also radically willing to accept Him. Too often we act out of willfulness instead.
• Willfulness is giving up... trying to fix every situation (on our own)... refusing to tolerate the moment. Willfulness is telling God, "I can't" instead of saying, "YOU can." Or we say, "I can do this without you." We try to do things on our own and then when we fail, we often refuse to allow God to step in and pick up the pieces. Or even worse, we try to argue with God about what should have been... and think we can avoid our struggles completely if God would just cooperate and do things our way.

I'd love to be able to say I've seen the light and I not only "get" these principles, I live them out every day of my life.

But I don't.

Radical acceptance is about as easy for me as threading a camel through the eye of a needle. I fight against it at every turn. My therapist calls it treatment-interfering thinking/behaviors. My God calls it rebellion. I'm still fighting God for Lordship that was never mine - and could never be mine - to begin with.

And at times I am desperately willing... and then it gets hard, and harder... and I want to give up because it hurts.

Accepting God radically, totally and completely...? Sometimes it hurts. Who am I in the face of His holiness? Why would He bother? How could I be valuable enough for God to lay out a plan specifically for me? And if God is wrong to choose me, He obviously must be wrong in His plans for me. Or not.

Life is what it is... but more importantly, God is who He says He is.

Our LORD.

Radically.

Treatment

Even though I've been pretty honest about my mental health struggles, I'm still ashamed and embarrassed by them. I should just get over it. I should be able to do this on my own. I should be sane, healthy, rational, normal... Blah, blah, blah.

A few months ago I entered a pretty intense therapy program. It's so hard to admit that I need something like this. My clients at work need treatment like this, not me.
Right?
Wrong.

It feels like a confirmation that I'm crazy. Truly crazy. And in a way, though it's supposed to give me hope, it leaves me feeling like I can't be helped. I know that feeling isn't justified - because I am getting better.

Slowly.
With lots of bumps along the way.

Lots of digging at old stuff I'd rather just stay buried, and old, ingrained thoughts/interpretations that need challenging. And lots of disobedience along the way - I'll get to that later.

It is so, so hard and it hurts so much. (I'm whining). And it's a bit humiliating to be in this position. I can count on one hand and an extra finger the people in my life who know about it.

*One only knows because someone else told her - and I don't know if I'm angry about it or just hurt.
*Two aren't very present in my life anymore - and... there's nothing I can do about it except get over it.
*One has gone through the program herself but liked it, she has her own issues to deal with and we haven't really talked for a while either so...
*One is a co-worker that caught me at a really bad time and got dumped on - she's turned into a pretty good friend, but again, her own issues (actually, her kids').
*And the last is my former therapist, who I'm not supposed to be in contact with anymore.
Great support system.

Why haven't I told other people? Two reasons:
1) I'm embarrassed - yup, said it again
2) Who would I tell?

The roommates who come with more baggage than a 747? The people @ church I don't quite trust (mostly my problem, not theirs)? The co-workers who are so judgmental of our clients I can't even imagine what they'd say to - or about - me? The mom who thinks mental illness is something to be ashamed of? My kids? My ex? Who else is in my life?

I actually nearly lost it last week in session when my therapist handed me this flyer for a "Family & Friends Workshop."

I wanted to cry because there's no one to invite.
"There has to be someone - if not the workshop, to come in and sit down with the two of us - to talk about how to best support you in this hard work," says my therapist.
Nope. There's no one.

And you know what? There just aren't that many people who are safe to tell.

People see mental health problems as a character flaw. A lack of faith. Selfishness. Attention-seeking behavior. A personal failing.

Or an unwillingness to try.

Through all of this, the most hurtful thing I've heard from people is, "If you really wanted to get better, you would." Really. Really? Because I like being this way.

I like having nightmares, and wanting to hurt myself, and being afraid all the time. I like doing stupid, sinful things because I don't feel like I can be anything better. I like feeling ashamed and worthless. I like having people ask, "Do you need to check in to the hospital?" when I'm struggling. I like telling people I'm sad or hurting and the automatic question is, "Are you safe?"

Yes, I like being mentally ill and miserable.
But if I just wanted it bad enough, :::poof!::: I'd be better.
Perhaps that's true for some people... but it isn't true for me.
I desperately want it.
I'm just not always certain I deserve it.

Maybe that's why hope is so hard for me.
Because hope hurts too... sometimes a lot.
Believing that things can be different, yearning for that change... yet being terrified that it won't happen - that it can't happen. Terrified that I'll screw it up.
Again.

Nyame Biribi wo Soro

Back in September I read a post at Annie Blogs about an Adinkran symbol for hope. I thought the symbol was pretty so I researched it a bit further, and thought "that would make a great tattoo." Then I set it aside.

Hope.
I like hope, but for months it felt completely out of reach. Life is so real, so HERE, and hope seemed so... nebulous. I've written about hope before, felt it strongly at times, but I just wasn't feeling it in those moments that grew to months.

What reason did I have to hope?
Hmm... What a sad, sad question for a Christian to ask.
What reason did I have to hope indeed.

Nyame Biribi wo Soro.

God is in the heavens.

He hears our prayers.

Always.

Continuously.

Steadfastly.

My soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is.
So I say, "My endurance has perished, so has my hope from the LORD."
Remember my affliction and my wanderings; the wormwood and the gall!
My soul continuously remembers it and is bowed down within me.
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.
"The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in Him." Lamentations 3:17-24

Isn't it interesting that the very source of our hope is that God truly is still in the heavens. He always was, always IS and always will be.

There's no better definition for hope.

A few weeks ago, I got that tattoo. Right there on my wrist.
Perhaps you can see the scars that criss-cross my arm there.
Symbols of shame and darkness... of affliction and pain... covered by a symbol of hope.
My hope.
Your hope.

Hope for the whole world wrapped up in five little words:

God is in the heavens.

And time can do so much...

Well.

It's been almost two months and it feels like an eternity. I didn't intend to take a blog break, it just happened that way.

Part of it is I just didn't know (ugh!) how to come back to my last post. I wanted easy, sensible, non-crazy-person answers to some really tough questions... and I still don't have them.

Part of it is trying to sort out priorities. Does blogging really have a place in my life? How else could I be spending my time? The answers here came easier, though it took longer than I anticipated. Should blogging be a part of my life? Yes. I miss it, and having an outlet was good for me. And yet... should I spend the same amount of time I had been spending in the blogiverse? Nope. What does that mean, exactly? No clue.

Part of it is my work hours. Lately I've been working 50+ hours a week. It's exhausting and I'm not just burnt out - I'm crispified. I recently took a week off and went back hoping I would be refreshed and excited again. I'm not. So now I wait on God and an open door - and fill out lots of applications.

Part of it is wanting (yet not wanting) to be alone. I've been avoiding people... trying to avoid sharing too much. I slip up every once in a while and feel awful about it later. I want to talk to people, but I'm not sure I can... not sure anyone really wants to listen (pity-party thinking, I know).

So I've stayed away... internet included. No blog, no facebook and email only once a week. I guess, in a way, I've been in hiding.

Not anymore. I'm baaaaaaack!