An Old Journal

I found this in an old journal from my first trip across the country to Oregon. It is from a woman's retreat to the ocean. At the time I was getting over a heart break and was in a new place with new hope and possibility. I was 25 then so it was written 3 years ago.

"I can feel the horizon. I can hear the waves...constant, droning and then a loud crash maybe two, it softens and then again the deep drone of an endless motion of waves. If you stand here you don't even need to close your eyes to imagine the space, the darkness. It is here. This deep sense that there is a huge ocean, a vast horizon, I;ve written it but I just can't get over it. Something great is just beyond these threes, something that I've had nothing to do with, something that I cannot control, that cares so little about the 25 years that I've been here on this earth. It does not care that I am white, tall, skinny, it sees no shape and my form easily fits into its ever churning substance. I am not an imposing, inconvenience, I am not impossible, I am only another. Another creature that could be sucked down, tossed up, caressed, lifted and rolled in its ever fluid voice of surf and tranquil adoration of a creator so much greater than us both.
To think, it does not care my heart has been broken, it shares not in my worries or my resentments, it only calls me to come, seek further, seek deeper, seek beyond myself, seek beyond the waters that crash. So quickly I project myself in the water...can't you see how angry the ocean is, I think. Hear it crash and toss always changing never the same nothing constant, come and go be late, on time. A Year and 1/2 ago I would have said, hear...see the passion, how it rolls and crashes with ecstasy, hear lust and love collide in it's foam. Who knows what it will be tomorrow. Who I'll be tomorrow because now....I hear a vast expanse that speaks in a voice only angels can hear, only the righteous can express the sounds I hear now. This vast expanse, this bit of love, this foaming, churning body of water sees me. Just me. Not all I've done, or where I've been. It sees not the walls I've built or the bitterness that rages, or the forgiveness that is slowly getting the last say. It just takes me, as I am It takes me as I am just as I am. It makes room for my body, it wraps its substance around every creves and bump on my body, it comes into every hole I can't close up and seeps into every pore. This vast expanse I have no control over no history with so past or future only present with, it takes me as I am. And like the creator, reflects the glory of it's creator, just like me, just as I am.".

Oregon

Oregon is a beautiful place. It is full of green and clouds...rain and fog....but I am in awe of the nature here. Mom and I landed on Friday the 13th after flying all day and I walked into a room full of my stuff. I have no idea how I am going to get it all back to New York again but it will happen. I got it all out here so there you go! We spent most of Valentine's Day with my friends Jason and Stephanie. We went up to Jason's family ranch and just drank tea and laughed. It was so good that I forgot I was in culture shock. I am from a more urban area than out here in the hills and mountains of Oregon. I have never seen so many trucks before and I didn't realize how many there were until I got back this last time.

I said bye to mom after church on sunday and headed back into the mountains where I stayed with my friend Stephanie while she house sat for our mutual friends the Burchs. It was a wonderful 48 hours of just mucking stalls, girl time, movies, laughes and tough talks about realtionships and bi polar. I am coming out of my depression but Steph seems to be in one and we talked as we both have bi polar about the reality of this illness and how you can't just buck up and get over it all.

I spent most of tuesday spinning my wheels, just feeling out of place in this small town of McMinnville, Oregon. I am feeling so overwhelmed but I am doing what I can to keep depression out of my way.

What an adventure life is...just one huge adventure.

Love

Love is a wondrous thing. It can lift a broken heart, settle a fluttery stomach, release hope into a hopeless life, help me stand in the winds of life and not fall. How does love do it? How can the love of other people carry us onward through days veiled in fear and anxiety, depression and shame? Obstacles where once seen as a hardship can also be seen as steps to recovery...a chance to move on in another direction, to face new challenges and walk tall again. They come not to taunt us, but to allow us to change, grow and face lessons. Lessons that need to be learned now, not to be hidden from. Stepping back into Oregon after 6 months of being home with my parents is a daunting task, and one that I have had to change my perceptions with...allow a paradigm shift. A miracle is going to happen, I have had to tell myself. I am not allowing fear to rule me, and I am not a victim to my circumstances. Convincing myself of this, of course, is a struggle. I have closure to make, I have love to take, and I will give what I have to allow myself to grow into the woman I am to be. I want to be free of this, but I want to be able to allow myself not to be free. I want to be able to be sick and still walk. Have Bi Polar and still help people, walk tall, be at peace. I want to write of hell and encourage those who cannot imagine being free of the flames of a hope that will lift them into peace. Love...what a wondrous thing. It is something that I have not yet learned to put my trust in completely, but I am learning. It is the love of my parents that has lifted me up when I could not love myself. It is the love of my parents that has allowed me to walk in the darkness of depression and know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I hope to love like that and walk with people through their darkness. There is an end. I am not there yet but it is coming.

Memories

I have been working in a school as a volunteer, this past week. I have been working with an ESL student and we have been having fun speaking spanish and working on homework. It has been a great experience but being around so many little children is hard because it reminds me of when I worked in Oregon and I was in the throws of my Manic/Depressed episode before I was put in the hospital. That time was very terrifying and it has taken a lot of therapy and memory work with my therapist to get over that time and not be afraid to work with little kids again. (In my previous blogs I have explained the way my therapist works and how you can have your memories lose power over you and how triggers can no longer be a problem for you.) Well, I was walking down the hall and I saw a little girl who looked like me when I was little. She stared at me, like most little kids do, and I was triggered. I was triggered into my paranoia which is my fear of being taken away by the police for doing something wrong. This paranoia was a huge part of my episode last year...wow last year was my epsiode...crazy. Anyway, by the time the day was over and my mom and I were driving home, (mom works in the same school that I was volunteering in) I was in histerics. I was convinced that I would be taken away and could not stop crying. I called my therapist and we talked it through and we had to do a night session over the phone to work through the memory that had been triggered by a simple look from a little girl.
Well, it turned out that I was triggered into a memory from when I was a little girl and being taken to a therapist that made me sit on his lap for the session. After realizing that I had always assumed the therapist from my past was punishment for me (I was 4 and 5 at the time) I realized that the paranoia was about getting in trouble with him and not the police. It was a huge break through. Also that the little girl that I saw reminded me of me when I was her age and flashed me back to having to see that terrible therapist. Now when I start to get anxious about police and trouble I remember this break through and I am put back on the right track. AMAZING!

The winds of time have blown in odd directions in this life of mine. I have been learning a lot about how I work and about how my body handles stress and fear. Beyond my bi polar, I am a compassionate, yet fearful woman who hates confrontations. And yet, God does not allow me to shy away from situations where I must face all fear. This illness does not let me avoid confrontations with myself, and this life does not left me hide from life. I am a life liver, I am a game player, I am a go getter and so here I am playing in the winds of time. I am not being played by the winds of time, I am playing in the winds of time. I am not a victim anymore. I am no longer a victim to an illness that does not relent, or from a life that I have been gifted with. So I flutter, like frail, thin curtains on a window. Each time the wind blows I take a new form, but I learn to form in a way that is beautiful. And that is what will happen when I go back to Oregon this friday the 13th. I will form to the new pattern of the wind blowing in the window and it will be beautiful, and all my anxiety now will be for identification of what to do next, not something that binds my fabric in tight knots. I will blow free and beautiful because I have been given a chance to play with the winds of change, the winds of freedom and the winds of time.