Monday 23 March 2009

...or so they say

Ok, so something has been really confusing me of late. People keep telling me how amazing and wonderful I am, and I just don't get it. Am I actively seeking it out? I don't think so? Am I down at the moment? Yes. But that doesn't mean I want peope to feel sorry for me, and it certainly doesn't mean I expect people to sing my praises, because I don't.

I just don't get it. Surely they are lying? I'm no better than the average human being. I *am* the average human being... I really don't get it. I've had three or four people say it to me just in the last three days and I've been horrible person to be around.

I am suffering from mental health issues, and I feel it is important to be open about those to an extent. Sure, most of the people who know me, know I suffer from chronic depression, few know much else, and I don't want people to know much else. I don't like people knowing the ins and outs of why I feel this way. What I am willing to share with people is the pain it causes me, and the pain it causes those closest to me. The one thing I desperatly want to do is help people. The stuff I've been through hasn't been pleasant, and if I can possibly do one thing with it, it will be use it to help others, relate to others, and accept others no matter what they are going through, trying to treat the in the best possible way enabling them to get better, and to break free from the shackles that bound them in such a debilitating illness. One of the most profound images for me is that of the wounded healer. To be as Christ. The great pain and humilation He suffered was for us. No one can relate to us better than Christ Himself. Yet it is only through him being fully human, and through the suffering he went through that he can understand and accept us.

Yet I do not think it is that simple. We cannot just be the wounded healer, and help others through our own pain without first enabling those wounds to heal. For those wounds to become scars so that they cannot open, and they cannot cause us pain, apart from that dull itch, the dull reminder, of what once happened to us. It is not fair for us to help others until we have helped ourselves. We cannot be the person that goes in and fixes things, unless we have first focused on repairing the deep wounds we suffer from. I know there is a great amount of healing I need to go through before I can be the wounder healer, but I do realise that even now there are parts of my story that can help others, andI need to be willing to embrace those, and use those to help others.

The fact is though, that does not make me amazing. It doesn't. And I don't understand why peope think it does. I'm doing what any half decent human being would do. Making something beautiful out of sheer misery. I want to be a person my friends can depend on, turn to in a crisis, knowing I will not turn them away. Whatever I am personally going through, I want to put that to one side and allow people to be real with me, show me their truth, their story, and their pain. God has put that in me. It's part of my ministry, if you like... That doesn't make me amazing, just a person wanting to dedicate their life to God

Sunday 22 March 2009

Broken Reflections

I've not updated this blog in a long time. Partly this has been because I've just not been sure what to say, but I think some of it is about where I've been at. I've either been majorly happy, or majorly low. Mostly the second if I'm honest. I just want to experience some kind of inbetween the two extremities for any period of time.

The last few weeks have been difficult. I'm at the lowest point I think I've ever been, and it's horrible. I don't want to be here, and neither do I feel like I have any right to be here... I'm just so low though.

One of our college modules this term was Human Personhood Through Popular Art. I didn't really engage in any of the lectures at all, however I really enjoyed the assignment. It was to create a piece of art. The picture here is a photo of what I did. I smashed a mirror and placed it on a large piece of white chipboard, over a burst a colour. It's supposed to represet Christ's death and ressurection, and the fact that whilst the image we see of ourselves is in shards, through Christ God is desperatly trying to piece us back together, trying to mould us into the beings he created, and so longs for us to be.

The red right at the centre of the cross represnts Christ's blood, and the purple around the outside, and the shape of the burst of colour represent the purple robe he was placed in and the crown of thornes placed upon his head. The humilation and he suffered is beyond human comprehension, and yet still, he went through this to re-unite us with the Father, to enable us, in all of our brokenness to come back to the foot of the cross, and bow our heads in prayer.

Nouwen writes: ‘Our life is full of brokenness---broken relationships, broken promises, broken expectations. How can we live that brokenness without becoming bitter and resentful except by returning again and again to God’s faithful presence in our lives’ (Nouwen, 1996:123). I guess often I focus on my own brokenness, the immense pain I suffer from my depression, and yet I forget I am living in a world full of brokenness, a world full of resentment, and bitterness. The only way this can possibly be overcome is by returning into the grace of the Father...