Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

I love call the midwife. It joins together call my loves babies, motherhood, nursing, faith and history. I love it. I've just caught up on last nights episode. A couple of series ago they dealt with a Ruth and Naomi relationship. An older and younger friend. Drawn together by situation (working together) but a deeper fondness occurring over time until you realise they are inseparable. They are true, if unlikely friends, Last week Phyllis offered to nurse a flu stricken Barbara to give Barbara's sweet husband a break. It wasn't flu. Barbara had meningitis and septicaemia. This week it looked like Barbara may pull through, although there was grief as she realised her lifelong dream of being a midwife, her career and vocation would be ripped away from her due to loosing feeling in her fingers. Yeah, a little close to home. My circulation in my fingers remains in tact but the scars left from the past year are almost certainly going to have an impact on the only career ...

Pretty much exactly 5 months after my last church attendance I returned today. Since my last time I had only seen 3 people from the congregation face to face. People who live in my town. Who I've seen at least twice a week for years, I'd seen so few of them. Children had grown. Newborn babies now starting to move. Barely bumps now earth side. There were a few new faces too. We decided to go today because we had been invited for Sunday lunch by a couple from church. The sweet, kind hearted, godly doctor who was on duty the weekend I was first taken to hospital. I didn't give myself a choice this morning. I'd set up an excuse not to go for lunch already. Our car was broken. It was true, it was, but I knew it would be fixed in time to go. So I got up and we went. I'd spoken with my counsellor about not feeling it was my home any longer. That I wasn't part of the fellowship anymore. That physically I didn't know where to sit. Our usual seats, middle,front, with ...

They say when the going gets tough you find out who your friends are. I accepted that. I knew that some people. Some friends, acquaintances, colleagues, family members would not be supportive. I had confidence though that some people would certainly stay put. No doubt. Even if I had a little wobble, I would be quickly reassured that they loved me and weren't going anywhere. Anyone who has read the blog will know that this didn't last. That people who I was certain would get me through, for whatever reason, didn't. Most days it hurts my heart. However there are others. Others who if I was asked a year ago wouldn't have crossed my mind as those to be holding me. My cousin. My totally mental, loud, foul mouthed cousin. We were so different growing up. You were cleverer but I was more conscientious. I was angelic, you were full of trouble! I was polite. You were cheeky. I through myself into study, you took a different path. We grew up together until our early teens w...

It's been two months since I attended church, but much longer since I have felt close and cared for by God. My prayer life is limited. Still just about intact. My ability to open the bible diminished. I don't know how to get it back. To feel His love and feel him holding me. Often people say our experience of God is through those around us. When you are isolated you have little time to experience God that way, or the experience instead is loneliness and abandonment. Even the kids didn't go today. My son still regularly prays, for me, for others, for the small things in his life but I am aware I am a poor example to them. My anxiety is preventing me returning to church. I have considered sneaking into bible study and then leaving ASAP. No time to connect, chat, answer questions. No awkward reunions or silences with those who would rather not be in my company. For now I hope God forgives me that all we could manage this Sunday was Veggietales on the TV whilst I lay ru...

Thank God it was sunny when I left the house. It meant my red puffy eyes were hidden from view. Today is a bad day. There were triggers, nothing major but my afternoon was spent crying. Crying for the old me. Crying for the way things were. Crying for the version of me who was capable and reliable. That night I did die. I descended to a different place. A place of medication which makes you fat and tired. A place where people fear you. A place where you are always going to be remembered as the one who tried to kill herself. A place where confidential conversations are shared "in love". I tried to hold it together until I was alone. Desperately trying to keep up the appearance of recovery. It didn't work like that though. I almost made it but as my friend left I couldn't help out. Our friendship kind of illustrates to me how much I have lost. I'm still angry. I know none of this is her fault. It's all just such a mess. I wish I could share openly once aga...