It was just there

Posted on June 9, 2011 | 1 comment

A few years ago, an amazing opportunity practically fell into my lap.  The chance to create greeting cards using my photographs and verses from own original words and poetry.  While I had, at first, reservations that I could accomplish this endeavor, I jumped in with both feet.  I picked, culled and labored over which photograph would match the card theme that I was working on.  It soon became apparent that the photographs spoke for themselves.  It became evident early on that one photograph shouted “Thinking of You” while another said “With Deepest Sympathy”.  Soon, I was seeing greeting card images everywhere and shot hundreds and occasionally, thousands, of photographs a week.  After arduous scrutiny to pick the very best of the best, they were uploaded onto the host site to be approved for sale.  While I was optimistic, because I am a perpetual optimist and believer that God does not do random things for no reason, I didn’t expect to become a greeting card entrepreneur overnight.  Guidelines showed that it could take up to one year to sell a single card, so I continued to shoot what I saw and prepared to wait.  Three weeks later, the first “You’ve made a sale” notification came in my email.  Excited cannot even begin to describe the range of emotions I felt.  My (late) husband, Jim, became as excited as I and continued to encourage me to explore my photographic abilities further.  I prayed about it and gave thanks to God that He had given me the gift of “an eye” for seeing His beauty the way He wanted me to see it.  Thus, Through the Eyes of the Spirit greeting cards was born.  That was three years ago and since then, the cards have continued to sell.  I have very few of my own photographs hanging in my house, not because I don’t love them, but because I see them in my mind and feel them in my heart.  My mother, on the other hand, has numerous ones on her walls, which is so humbling to me.  I have never, and don’t intend to ever, arrange a landscape shoot.  The beauty of God’s creation is just there, for everyone to see and feel, to immerse themselves into and become a part of something wonderful.  What I see through the lens of my camera is what my eyes are drawn to and I don’t want that to change.  When I begin to feel that creation isn’t enough as it is without my added embellishments, then I will know that I am no longer using this gift for the right reason.  The photographs are a blessing to me, uplifting when I am blue and joyous when I am rejoicing.  It is a great honor and an humbling wonder that I am able to use them as part of the ministry I have been given to share, for irregardless of what I think I know or believe myself to be, it is for His glory that I continue on this remarkable journey that I travel… after all, I am just the clay.

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Through the Eyes (and the nerve) of the Spirit

Posted on May 31, 2011 | 1 comment

A spirit of fear… something I am very familiar with.  Although God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear, I made my own.  From a very young age, my earliest memories, as a matter of fact, have me running from something.  If it jumped, hopped, mooed, flew, chirped, slithered, creaked, groaned or growled, chances are, I was running, screaming at the top of my lungs in fear that whatever it was would get me.  Now, only a few of the things were really something to fear.  For example, the time the hogs chased me down the hill… that was a fearful moment that was legitimate. My mom and mamaw always kept one ear open for my shrieks of terror for they were many… and they would always come running to save me from whatever it was that had sent me into spasms that time.  This fear followed me through my childhood, teenage years and right on up into my adult life.  I have nearly cracked glass many times as the objects of my fear, real or imagined, manifested in my life.  Once I delved full speed into photography, some of the fears were faced through the zoom lens of my camera.  It became apparent quite quickly that if I wanted the good shots, I had to get closer.  And my need and desire to photograph nature went a long way to helping me overcome fear of things like grasshoppers, caterpillars and bees.  Over time, I got closer to frogs and even managed to get within several feet of snakes.  Spiders, well, there is really little to say.  Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it and I doubt that will ever change.  I remember the big garden spider with the amazing web that I photographed a few  years ago.  I was looking at it through a zoom lens and was several feet away from it.  When I focused that creature, I actually felt sick, so I feel it is safe to say that once an arachnophobe, always an arachnophobe.  But I digress… a few months ago, I made a conscious decision that I was not going to be such a baby about everything.  That decision was challenged when my zoom lens was broken and I had to practically get in the pond with the frogs to get the good shot, but I prayed fervently that they wouldn’t jump on me and God was faithful and kept them preoccupied with each other and they didn’t jump… at least not on me.  But today was my crowning achievement.  I was in the cornfield, chopping out weeds, mom and I talking and having as much fun as you can have when you’re doing hard manual labor in the burning heat.  Dad was nearby working on some piece of equipment or other and talking with one of his friends.  I turned to say something to mom and there, slithering across the field, was a black snake.  A pretty big one, likely four feet or a little better.  It was heading toward the house and I stepped closer to get a better look.  My spirit of fear, which would usually kick in and have me running in the opposite direction, did not show it’s face.  Dad told me to be careful, that it would bite, and with same breath to not let the dogs get it. I walked up to that snake, picked it up behind its head and held it.  It wrapped itself around my arm, tongue flicking out and eyes beady, but I just looked at it.  I had a good grip on it just behind it’s head and I had no fear.  I was so thankful for that moment.  It was, and will continue to be, a turning point in my life.  God used this snake to show me that my fear did not have to control me.  I carried the snake, still wrapped around my arm, to the edge of the field and tossed it across the creek so it could slither elsewhere.  Now while I don’t plan on becoming a snake charmer anytime in the near future, I feel empowered, nearly high from the accomplishment.I went back to chopping the weeds and heard my dad, who has saved me from many critters, say to his friend “I would have bet $500 she wouldn’t have done that”.  I told mom what he said and she said “Phhht… I would have bet the farm.”  This has been a good day, one filled with hard work, serious sweat and jumping a hurdle that even I didn’t know I could jump.  At this point, I don’t think there is anything I can’t do… well, unless it has to do with a spider.  God didn’t give me a spirit of fear… I brought it on myself and am well on my way to overcoming it.  Since I am the photographer in the family, no one can document this on film, but three witnesses should be as good as a photograph.

Cinderella, dressed in yellow, went upstairs to kiss her fellow…
Made a mistake and kissed a snake, how many doctors did it take?

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In the corners of my mind

Posted on May 20, 2011 | Leave a comment
The past.  One of the most powerful weapons satan has to use on us.  He takes us down the paths that we have already walked and reminds us, in the wee hours, that our shortcomings and failings are always just a thought away.  He reminds us over and over of things we have said, wished we had said, hurts we have caused and the ones that we carry.  He tells us that our mistakes are never forgiven and urges us to not forgive.  But what he doesn’t remind us is that the past is the past.  What is done is done and cannot be altered.  It is what we do from this point on that makes or breaks us.  We can hold onto the hurts and injustices, the pain and the memories or we can break free.  He only has the power that we give him when we embrace the twisted thoughts and memories that surface when we are most vulnerable.  If we embrace the misery that he offers, then our chances of overcoming what we perceive as the most embarrassing or painful moments of our lives become less and less likely.  But there is hope for everyone who is suffering from having a past, and that list would include every human being.  Even the tiniest baby will, if they live, have a past.  There will be lost tempers, hurtful words and actions, pain and heartbreak.  It is a part of being human and living in a human world.  The world around us is as unforgiving of us as we are to ourselves.  It is beyond our own capabilities to outrun the past… and satan knows this and will gleefully use it to keep us from moving forward.  Each of us has a purpose in this life, a reason to be.  Everything that happens to us as we travel through this journey of life can be either a stumbling block to ourselves or it can make us stronger and more able to recognize the warning signs in others of the effect of their real or perceived imperfections and insecurities and enable us to lift them up.  Jesus was perfect.  He had no imperfections and for some, it is impossible to imagine a perfect person.  Someone who has no regrets or things they wish they hadn’t said or done.  I have a life full of things I wish were different and, in the dark  hours of night when I begin to relive those moments, my strength begins to falter and the darkness becomes heavier as I remember all that cannot be changed.  It is then that the Holy Spirit reminds me that what is past cannot be changed.  Rectification, reconciliation, forgiveness… they can all be given, but forgetting what we have lived, well that is a different story altogether.  The things that we have done, said or survived are all part of what makes us into who we will become.  Whether we use the past for harm or good will decide how we will relate to other people and how our actions will alter their lives.  It is not easy to overcome a past full of pain, and impossible to do it alone.  Trust in the One who understands suffering, who understands what it is like to be alone and abused, to be wrongly accused and tortured, both physically and mentally.  Trust that what you have survived will make you stronger and that you will go forth in hope.  It is these things I focus on when my own darkness threatens to overtake me and smother me with all that I cannot change.  When I need comfort, I know where to find it, but self-suffering and guilt-enabling get in the way.  The light that I know is there could shine through if I let it, but at times when I cannot seem to get past the moment, I refuse it.  But the gentle prodding of the Holy Spirit continues until my defenses are broken and the fog lifts.  I always look forward to those moments and delight in hearing the song that my God sings over me.  And during these long nights when all the things I dislike about myself manifest themselves into the demons I fight, I know that I do not fight them alone.  And therein lies my comfort.  Because no matter where I have been or where I will go… no matter what I have said or left unsaid… irregardless of how often I try to handle things myself, He loves me anyway.

Matthew 11:28 ~ Come to me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest

Double rainbow over Clinch Mountain, Big Moccasin, Nickelsville, VA

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My Mother’s Heart

Posted on May 7, 2011 | Leave a comment

Tonight, as I edited photographs from the last couple of days, I kept going back, time and again, to the same one.  It was like a hundred more I have taken over the years, with the same shapes and textures, but this time, I saw it in a different light.  I developed the photograph in black and white which brought out each line and crease, each flaw and each vein.  It showed that, although in color, it is nearly perfect, in a pure form, without distractions, my mother’s Bleeding Heart is imperfect and scarred.  My mind began to wander back in time and the years melted away as I saw my mother in a way I can’t ever remember seeing her… as the imperfect jewel that she is.  How her heart must have broken when mine did…  How she, like Mary, must have treasured a lot of things up in her heart.  She hid her hurt, cried when no one could see, and did what needed to be done, whatever it might be.  She cooked and cleaned and did all the motherly things that moms do, but her love is what made home a place I wanted to go.  Knowing she was there was like a balm to a burn… a kind of soothing that comes from a cool cloth on my head… there were special birthday dinners, roller skates, Journey records, leg warmers, ballgames, a huge Andy Gibb poster, a phone in my room, food in the fridge, clean clothes in the closet and a million other things that I took for granted… of course there were disagreements, tears, tantrums, hurt feelings, arguments and, my own signature contribution, plenty of stomping and slamming doors… but when all was said and done, I was me and she was my mom, always ready to run to me if I needed her… Looking back, I see what I’ve known all along… that her heart is beautiful… and so is she.

Proverbs 31:25-31

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Religious? No. Follower of Jesus? Yes

Posted on April 22, 2011 | 1 comment

On this day, Good Friday, I woke up, feeling both ashamed and humbled, loved and cherished, thankful and remorseful, hungry and fed, and far more blessed than I deserve.  Why would anyone do what Jesus did, suffer the way He suffered and die a death so horrible that my mind cannot wrap around it.  That question can be answered in one word.  Love.  My love for Christ has nothing to do with religion or gatherings or congregations.  It has no beginnings in tradition or repetition.  It comes because Christ first loved me.  Enough to die a terrifying and horrific death for my sake even though I was a full blown sinner.  There was nothing religious about the death of Jesus.  It was prophesied from way before that a Savior would come.  The lamb to the slaughter. It was a gift from God, who loves at a depth that no man’s heart can understand, even if they know and follow Him.  Religion has taken on a life of it’s own that, in some cases, has little or nothing to do with the teachings of Christ.  There is ritual to complete and rules that must be followed in order to be a part of it.  There are repetitive gestures and misinterpretations of what Jesus has said.   Groups like KKK call themselves religious.  Groups who bomb abortion clinics call themselves religious.  Men, women and children who strap bombs to themselves and blow up others call themselves religious.  Churches who talk about what great things they’ve done and then turn away those who come to them seeking help call themselves religious.  Jesus wasn’t religious.  He was just Jesus.  The Savior, the Messiah, the Holy son of God.  He didn’t conform to the traditions of the world, but set the example for others to follow so that eternal life could be available to everyone.  Everyone.  Not just this church or that sect or this mission or that cause, but everyone.  He gave His life and shed His blood for sinners.  Just going to church or to communion, taking mission trips or giving money does not open the doors of heaven for us to walk through.  There is only one way.  He is the way.  He is the truth.  He is the life.  Without Him, there is no hope of eternal life.  But saying that I know Jesus is not enough.  Proving it is required.  If we walk a good life, give to the poor, help the needy, and show the world how religious we are, we have accomplished nothing if, at the core, there is no love.  Love doesn’t cross the street to avoid a homeless man, a prostitute or a drug addict.  It doesn’t turn it’s back on those in need and it doesn’t just surface on Sunday. When Jesus communed with the people, He did it in the midst of sinners.  He walked among those who had no hope, who had nothing.  And He loved them.  None of us are good.  Not even when we are being good are we good.  Sin is the blackness of evil that follows every step we take, just waiting for the moment when it can trip us and cause us to fall flat on our face.  No matter how devout we claim to be, falling on our face is part of the journey that we are on because unlike Jesus, we are not perfect.  The church can’t save us.  The community can’t save us.  Our family and friends, though supportive and loving, cannot save us, and most certainly, we cannot save ourselves.  No matter where we go or what we try to accomplish, if Jesus is not at the center, then any good that could be done will fall short of what we could do if Jesus was at the center. There is only one way to be saved and that is through the blood of Jesus Christ.  I am a follower of Christ and owe everything I am or ever hope to be to Him… and to Him, not religion, I give all the glory.  For religion, after all, is just a man-made word and I have my hope in that which man has no hand in.  The grave could not hold Him, Satan could not bind Him and He rose, conquering sin and making a way for all people to live in Glory with Him. He lives and He’s coming for us.  What Jesus did, He did out of love and religion had nothing to with it. Praise His Holy Name!

Colossians 2:8 ~ Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.

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Spring on Clinch Mountain

Posted on April 11, 2011 | 1 comment
Today, I took a walk on the wild side… the wild mushroom side, that is… Under the close supervision of my guide (and dad), Steve Minton, we went deep into the hollows of Clinch Mountain.  Although the mushrooms were in short supply, there was no shortage of sheer, springtime beauty.  The blooming trees are just starting, so the experience will last another week or so… the ferns are unfolding and the leaves are putting out… but more than the sights, there are the sounds and smells that make it, really and truly, springtime in the Mountains.  The brooks and creeks, thanks to the recent rains, were bubbling and laughing, teasing the rocks and the moss like a child with energy to spare…
The birds sang and the wind rustled through the budding leaves and still bare limbs making a sound, when mixed with the rushing water, that is indescribable and one of my greatest pleasures.  While the trail was steep and bumpy, the driver was an exceptional one and handled the Ranger like a true professional.  Myself, who is usually walking because I have some weird fear, rode with confidence and had a thoroughly wonderful day.  It wasn’t long after we’d stopped that Sophie announced her first find.  I wound myself around to where she and dad had gone.  It was then I heard him announce that there was a terrapin…  he stuck his head out for a moment, but soon decided he’d just soon be left alone…
Sophie decided she wanted to walk with me awhile so we started looking around.  She is eagle-eyes when it comes to mushrooms.  Though we only found a handful, she spotted every one of them.
The morel mushroom is called by many in Southwest Virginia the “dry land fish” partly, I suppose, to the fish-like taste of fried morels.  It is unusual for sure, and not easy to find.  But once you find a place they grow, you keep your mouth shut about it.  Least that’s what I was told by the guide.  Not long after, Sophie decided that she had seen enough mushrooms, had enough bug-bites and wanted to get in the cool… so we started down..  Not far into the descent, there were some ferns, just unfolding… one of the many small miracles of nature and one of my all-time favorite spring sights…

The descent ended in the pond field where we found and army of frogs all around the pond.  Since my zoom lens is temporarily disabled, I had to get really close.  Prayed that they wouldn’t jump on me, so I was pretty confident.  There were both disgustingly gross and unerringly fascinating… odd

The tour ended back at the farmhouse.  It seems that one of the most beautiful things was right here in the dooryard… my Mother’s garden…
All in all, it was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.  I learned so much more with dad, um, I mean, the guide, than I could have possibly figured out for myself.  Thanks, Dad, for being willing to teach an old dog new tricks…

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Posted in Mountains, Photography, Southwest Virginia, wildlife

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into the world and back again

Posted on April 9, 2011 | Leave a comment

I was just watching, for the hundredth time, the movie Twister.  Now, while I’ve seen it many times, I watch it because there are aspects of it that appeal to me.  The dialogue, however, is just shy of adequate.  But the dissection of the dialogue isn’t what prompted this entry.  It was the last scene.  The one where everyone is together.  They are a unit.  A group of friends who share a common interest, are happy when something good happens to any of them and are willing to put their life on the line for their friends.  I never noticed it in that way until tonight.  Isn’t that what we all long for?  People who share our interests, get excited when we do well or receive a blessing?  Someone who is willing to die so that we might live?  We all long for that.  I found it.  In Jesus.  It took years of rebellion on my part.  I defied God and everything that He stood for.  I knew I was living a lie and I continued to do it, not mindful of the consequences or even realizing that the torturous life I was living was the consequence.  Years later, I recommitted myself to God and put my life into Jesus’ hands.  It wasn’t easy.  It should have been, but there were things I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up.  How lame that sounds now, that after all Jesus gave up at the cross, there were things of the world that I would rather have kept than Him.  I was, am and will be, as long as God has a purpose for my life, a work in progress.  There’s no shame in that.  I will fail many, many more times before God is done with me.  But each failure and each loss will bring me closer to Him through the wisdom and teachings He gives through the trials.  I try to use my life to bring glory to my God, though many times, I bring Him shame and disappointment.  It is easy to praise God at the height of the fruits of His blessings, and I want to always do that….  but more, I want to be able to praise Him from the depths of the valleys, for at that moment, my hope is in Him… my hope is Him… and He is always faithful.  I come out of the valleys with a newer perspective, one that is closer to the person God is molding me to be.  And in the meantime, He is with me, always, and He already died for me… and one day He’s coming back for me…  How can I wish for what I already have… Praising God for his merciful blessings…

These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world – John 16:33

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I am God’s no matter where I am

Posted on February 19, 2011 | Leave a comment
I am currently a pet project of the devil’s and I couldn’t be happier.  If the old goat is this determined to get me to stumble, then it can only mean one thing… and that is that I am moving in the direction God wants me to go.  He tried to pull a fast one today and would have gotten away with it if not for my faith in a power much greater than his.  Acknowledging first that irregardless of where I am or where I go in this life, God is with me… the Holy Spirit is with me… and once that is acknowledged, all satan can do is aggravate me… he can pinch and trip and kick about, but he can’t do any real damage because I am sanctified…. he can’t hurt me or kill me or even touch me… so he does what he does best… he deceives…  he used my environment to make me second guess myself… And in the midst of his victory dance, God provided an opportunity for me not only to survive the sneak attack, but because of it,  gain blessings that I hadn’t imagined … and all I had to do was leap… take the leap of faith.  I’ve always wondered how I would know if I were supposed to take that leap… now I know… My God!  My God!…  but satan will slink back after he licks his wounds and devises another plan and some elaborate tale… evil never misses a chance to try to deceive you and make you think that you are not in the will of God… and he’s not afraid to deceive the people you love most and use them to do it… and as long as he keeps trying, you know you’re on the right track… I wish that every word and action that came from me would bring glory to Jesus, but we all know that won’t happen… I’m  saved by grace… but i’m still a sinner and I will be until the day I die.  Each day is a battle between good and evil and … I want to glorify Him and not shame Him…  Jesus foretold that those who follow Him would bear persecution and shame for His name’s sake… I am willing to do that.  I know the truth of my actions and so does God… and as I’ve heard my Dad say “The truth will stand when the world’s on fire”… Don’t let the things that are out of your control, control you.  Stand up for what is right and don’t be afraid to speak up for yourself and defend yourself if necessary, but more than anything else, pray…  Pray for guidance from the Lord… and pray believing with faith that, whatever you ask, according to His will, He will give you (1 John 5:14-15) and remember what it says in Hebrews 11:1 (kjv) now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.  Keep your faith, even when the world seems to be falling apart at your feet because it is in everything, sometimes even the dumb stuff, that lessons are learned… punishment can be harsh or blessings can be bountiful…. we have a choice.  Don’t let satan push you around…

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Right in front of my eyes

Posted on February 14, 2011 | Leave a comment
Today, as I sat here nursing bronchitis, a cold and who knows what else, I was dreaming of all the places that God was going to send me to further my ministry.  My ministry of compassion and encouragement.  It could be just about anywhere.  There are hundreds of places that need help… compassionate and encouraging… help.   There’s Egypt, Belize, Ecuador, Africa… and then, like a boot in the skull, God whapped me one.  Yes, Gina, there are many places I could send you to carry out MY MINISTRY, but only one that I have.  And what, exactly, have you accomplished….?   Gulp.  He had sent me somewhere.  And had given me the tools that I would need and the knowledge of what to do when I got there.  He sent me here, to this place, nearly ten years ago.  Nickelsville, VA.  A small, hole in the road town made up of proud, hard-working people… farmers and miners… and farmers’ and miners’ families.  Everybody knows everybody else and if they don’t know you, they likely know your parents… Just start naming names… I usually use my Dad’s because he knows every second soul for a hundred miles…  And of all the people who know each other in this little town, there will be some who will go to bed tonight with empty bellies.  Maybe they’re out of work or have been sick… maybe their light bill was too high this month and they didn’t have enough money to keep the heat on and eat… This is my mission.  This is the assignment God has given me.  It was here the whole time, but I was too blind to see it… too caught up in where God might send me to notice where He had sent me… but i notice it now.  After that little twack on the head earlier, I get it.  There are people in my hometown that I can help… and through helping them, God will be glorified… there’s alot you can done when you’re belly isn’t growling.  By myself, I could do it one person at a time… but this was God’s idea… and there is no telling what He will do.  I will make a difference in my hometown by taking up my cross and being a part of the Body of Christ and bring glory to my God… I don’t know what He’ll do, but I’m anxious to find out.

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Posted in My Hometown

I’m forgiven… the rest doesn’t really matter

Posted on January 21, 2011 | Leave a comment

 

It’s hard to know, sometimes, when the darkness that feels like it is closing in is, in reality, closing in.  Feelings of anxiety and paranoia mixed with increased self-confidence and a feeling of invincibility co-mingle to give a yo-yo effect that threatens to destroy what may or may not be something meaningful or important.  For someone who has never experienced nor known or been around anyone with bipolar disorder (and those of you who know me, whether you knew it or not, can take yourself off this particular list), it can be befuddling at best and, at worst, frightening.  A person with bipolar disorder can function just as well as anyone else as long as the neurons, protons, croutons and other “ons” in their brain are going about their business as usual… but it only takes one thing, usually something the person couldn’t name as a trigger if a gun was held to their head (no pun intended).  But there won’t be any of the people in the life a bipolarist who won’t see that something was off.  Usually they will talk around the dinner table to their family or perhaps discuss the situation with friends… the one person they do not talk with is the person they perceive is having a problem.  I have to ask this… if someone were witnessing a brutal beating of another human being, would they call the police or try to stop it in some way, or call their friends or gather with their family and discuss that something is wrong.  I guess I sound like i’m ranting, and i am.  I’m pretty upset at this point that all the world around me noticed that “something was up” and that I wasn’t acting myself, but chose to yuk it up with each other and discuss how different and how “not like myself” i’ve been acting.  No doubt, this entry will step on some toes and most likely hurt some feelings.  Sorry ’bout that.  After a problem has been identified, people say  “i knew something was off”.  So what were they waiting for…?  a ribbon.  These folks say repeatedly that they are my friends and are always there for me, no matter what… it is, i guess, sometimes exciting on some primitive level, to be included by proxy, in a critical situation… but what about the everyday?  The little things that don’t add up but happen with increasing frequency like snapping at people, hatefulness, dressing in clothes that look slept in, unusual eating habits, distractability, just to name a few… these need to be addressed quickly as this is especially important for the sufferer/offender, who rarely, if ever, knows this stuff they think they are “dealing with” is noticeable to the world that lives outside their brain.  When there is a known history, it becomes even more important to bring the reality of a possible crisis to light.  People suffering from functional bipolarism (my own made up term) are just like anyone else.  For the most part, their behavior is normal on every level, and during those exceptions when their behavior deviates from the norm, it is the people who are closest to them… who know them best who should be the first to say hmmm…  this ain’t right…  Satan has made me his current pasttime and, for his own jollies, is enjoying seeing me squirm.  But be that as it may, he cannot break me, for the king of my heart and soul is my savior and the song that God sings over me is beautiful.  If the devil thinks this is going unnoticed, he’s a bigger idiot than i gave him credit for.  God sees what that little pissant is up to and GOD will sustain me.  I didn’t recognize the signs.  Well, actually, that is a falsehood.  I did recognize the signs of feeling depressed, but the feelings came around the holidays and during an exceptionally bleak winter.  I attributed it to the lack of sunshine, the stress of the holidays and wild work days… to the devastation of losing my Jim, tay leaving for college, new challenges in my life.  All reasonable, analytical and fair assumptions and things people with normal brains experience just as I do.  What I didn’t see, and what “normal” brains rarely experience on any level that is noticeable, was the change in my behavior.  But many people did, yet they chose to keep that little bit of information to themselves.  Had Jim been alive, he would not only have noticed, but would have made comments on it… comments, i might add, that would have driven me to the point of distraction and i would have made an appointment with my doctor just to get him off my back.  I freely admit that I am outspoken… a trait that took me many years to attain, and one that I have no intention of giving up… but i’m not mean about it.  I often do things at the last moment, but that is no different than any other time in my life… I am an optimist… sometimes to the point where friends and family want to shove a sock in my mouth… but i don’t, on a “normal” day think i can fly… but when my behavior changes enough to be noticed by my dad, a man who would sit with the walls falling in on his head and not know it, then there is obviously a problem and it must be dealt with immediately.  I don’t deny that I am currently in a crisis brought on by my disorder nor do i deny that i have no idea what caused it.  Looking back over the past year, it is likely that jim’s death was the catalyst, but, as any bonified bipolarist will tell you, we are masters of concealment, even when we don’t know we are concealing… i don’t deny that adjustments needed to be made… i don’t deny that, now that someone has made comments on the rapidly changing moods and isolation ( my mom, who knows me better than anyone, said something first and made me evaluate my current state – i called the doctor the very next day), i was able, then,  to see the warning signs and recognize the change in my behavopr… the warning signs were screaming at the top of their lungs… they were screaming “oh my stars, girl, you are losing it”.  I had a friend, more like a sister, really, tell me today that they felt like i hated them.  If that isn’t a flag, i don’t know what is. She told me she wanted to congratulate me on my accomplishments but felt that i had been congratulating myself quite enough.  A braggart?  I don’t now, nor have i ever considered myself to be a braggart… the things i accomplish have nothing to do with me but with my God who empowers and blesses me…. that should have raised another flag. Bipolar disorder really is a neighborhood disease because let me tell you this… during a manic icandoanythingandthereisnothingtostandinmyway phase, i am in the most danger to myself… not because i think of suicide, but because there is no speed too fast,no crag to rocky, no risk to high…. because, well, because i can do anything and it will have no effect on me.  I look around at what i know, while i am drunk and sick from the new meds, and realize that i’m not sure i have friends, but instead, people who think they know me.  People who know me would see things that are out of kilter for me, then talk about it to their friends and family… I know who i can trust… I know who i could, at one time, trust, and I know who I can’t trust… sound paranoid…?  it may be.  But i’m disappointed in my friends and frankly i don’t mind telling them so. The doctor seems to think that meds that would kill a team of clydesdales are the answer, and for now, just to ensure that my brain is able to defend itself from the tentacles of satan, i will take them… but i know in my heart of hearts that what i really need is a boatride on a hot summer day…   To hear a song of praise to my  Father which speaks directly to my heart, click on the title link.  It will take you to a youtube video.  I don’t love any of you any less… know that for sure, but trust is not something i give out lightly and right now, i could count the people i trust on three fingers.  Don’t let your feelings get hurt when I don’t blubber my undying gratitude to you just because you “knew something was going on”.  Life is life… regardless of who’s living it.

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