Maybe it’s time to be open about what it feels like to have a wounded mind. Many of us struggle with what docs term as PTSD, anxiety, depression, bi-polar, etc. I’m sure there are a lot more names to describe mental issues that stem from battles we have been through in dealing with the pain of this world. It comes in all forms, impacts us all differently…but one thing is consistent. There is a wound. An injury. Even if it is unseen.
As I have learned, these injuries show up just like physical injuries to the brain on scans and tests. Parts of the brain do not function properly – and must either heal or adapt to continue the connections required to continue on with life. Just living with this pain, rehab and the daily requirements of a job or interaction with others requires an immense amount of grace, discipline and courage to keep going.
Whenever I write or speak, it’s like there is a disconnect. Almost as if two (or more) conversations are going on. One is simple – rooted in truth and feels so plain and clear…
The other feels like a constant struggle to explain it, to work through the battle that is raging in the mind and body, to explain and articulate something that doesn’t make sense to most. The descriptions become long and drawn out at times, or sometimes not spoken at all out of fear that others won’t understand, or that we have given up that they will.
Waking up at 3am every morning fighting off anxiety attacks, nightmares and replays of every thing done wrong the day before in vivid detail.
Confusion, warring thoughts, hesitation, uncertainty. These are not so uncommon – but then the rumination, lack of ability to put it together and make decisions to move forward – the procrastination and the inability to finish tasks…with a repetition for days and weeks and months.
Crippling waves of anxiety and fear. Repeating thoughts that “we aren’t going to make it through this.” Thoughts that invade over and over to stop, to quit. To give up.
Logistical and organizational issues. Not having an awareness of where I am in my location. Feeling lost and disoriented. Direction, not recognizing areas when driving, even passing my own street when coming home.
Medical PTSD (impact to the mind due to prolonged exposure to a chronic medical condition and the related barrage of doctor visits, testing, labs, failed treatment, etc) At one time I did the math of the impact of having ulcerative colitis and not achieving remission for over 12 years. Average (on the low end) of immense pain in the gut and urgent attempts to release everything at least 7 times a day. Loss of blood and dealing with anemia, etc. Inability to do activities due to this for years on end. Did the math on the volume of facing these episodes of immense pain and inability to function and it comes out to over 30,000 occurrences. No wonder the brain trips into fight or flight mode and stays there.
The impact to behavior, to the ability to just live…be kind to those you care about…is removed. Survival mode is constant. Become selfish and self centered, quick to get angry or irritated and patience goes out the window. Not easy to be around – and never knowing when the switch could flip. This is a very difficult environment for my kids to grow up in. Inconsistent and wavering.
Laughter, happiness, creativity, and the sense of freedom all dwindle. People do it want to hang out as much. Recovery groups and therapy become the circles needed. Environments of safety and vulnerability are required.
In all of this – the awareness of how far gone I am, how much has been lost is always apparent and haunting my thoughts moment by moment. Acceptance, faith and perseverance become the moment by moment go to.
Conitinued and unrelenting pressure to perform, maintain some semblance of work, inconsistencies from day to day…including inability to function, remember tasks…much less follow through and be able to perform them well from day to day. Fear of losing what has been worked for. Savings. Retirement. Our home. Putting food on the table. The horror and unaddressed thought of the years lost in my wife and kids lives, the missed time, the fear of never getting it back. And the constant tug of war between providing (or trying to) vs being present and awake with them. It’s like being torn in two, over and over – and left unresolved, paralyzed in unbelief that it is all happening.
It feels like running a marathon…and 3 miles from the perception of the finish line your legs get broken… No time or room to stop, to recover, to heal…just the cruelty of constant pressure to finish the race. What a mind jack.
Ahh – and the shame. Immense amount of shame poured over me like tar. Clinging and holding on, robbing the joy and causing continued feelings and need to escape, to find some way to cope, the creation of addictive behaviors to relieve the pain and absolute misery of knowing how far gone I am. Too far to make it back, lost, drowning in pursuit of unhealthy self medication, lust, anything to take the emotional and mental pain away. All of this compounding and reinforcing the cycle and descent into our own personal hell. A very present and constant awareness of the inability to control my life and the outcome of each day.
Something happened. A vision. An experience. An encounter. The Word. Grace. Faith. Hope. The power of something, someone…coming in to take over and carry it all. To be saved, rescued. A true living, very present – very real and very alive Jesus. A warrior, beaten and Broken himself – but victorious in the battle against all that ever comes against me. A very personal set of experiences (which someday I will be able to share and put to words somehow) and visions that transform me, change me, and bring me into an entirely new environment. And a moment by moment proof of His power and the finished work on the cross. A life of surrender – releasing it all every day and trusting Him alone. Trust. In something done for me, instead of in my own power. The race is over. The war is over. Victory claimed. Sharing in the glory. Protection. A refuge. Recovery and restoration. Not by anything I did – but by faith in everything done for me. Transformation. New creation. Very real…and a very real sense of how can this be? A very clear awareness of I don’t deserve this, met with absolute embrace and an overwhelming awareness of what love really is. The ultimate price paid, in blood…to come and save us.
Somehow peace and love and freedom in the middle of the storm.
For me, I can see what I want to write…I remember all of the schooling, all of the expectations, and all of the things that I should be doing and saying to be more concise and clear. To think through my words before I write or speak. But there is so much noise, and it is so difficult to get it out…that the opportunity to write it would pass, and it would never be stated. Mostly out of fear of judgment that I don’t care to take the effort to write it better.
Well…this is an ongoing story. All of us have an ongoing story. If we don’t let the mess out, the story may not get told.
So – I respect those of you that see the writing, or the stories…and see that they could be better. Just know that I (we) can see that too, and we opted for the courage to let it out as it is, not only as it looks when it is cleaned up.
Sincerely written with a wounded brain.
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