Remembrance Sunday, one of the scariest events of the year for me, is done.  I thought I would feel better after it, and I do.  I am blessed in that everything went well, we remembered with integrity, and a huge weight is lifted from me.  

I am emerging into the sunlight again, blinking rather hard.  Hindsight suggests that this episode has lasted just over two weeks – the last five days of which has been spent recognising where I am and climbing out.  The trigger(s) – a lot of busy weeks after a fraught summer, and the realisation that half term was no different, so no family time.  No down time for me is disaster, add guilt about family neglect, guilt about neglected studies, a clock change, impending death anniversaries, a decent cold, some things I forgot to do to add to the guilt, and suddenly I do not cope.  

I suspect a lot of this could have been avoided by use of the word “no”, plotting in more down time.  And by talking about how I was feeling as I started to feel bad, rather than waiting until I had already hit the bottom and was starting to climb up.  I have to trust that other people can cope with how I feel.  I have learned this lesson before, not terribly well.  I suspect I’ll spend a lifetime learning it.  But to have the dark voices that tell me I am unloveable, not worth attention, a rubbish [Mum / wife / curate / student / friend / person / housekeeper / you-name-it-I’m-rubbish-at-it] moderated by those around me is essential.  Dark voices are loud.   

You may be wondering about the picture I’ve been using to flag these posts.  I produced it one dark afternoon last year (for I more usually have dark hours than dark days), and called it “Heart of Darkness”.  For me it is a description of hope in the love of God and of my fellow humans.  It is a reminder that the spiritual war is already won, all I have to do is fight the battles, that the cross is empty, and that I am loved.  For me it describes the difference between darkness and despair.

A huge thank you to everyone who has sent me love and support, who has prayed for me.  I’ve heard from you via this blog, email, Facebook, Twitter, phone and face to face, and I am grateful.  Special prayers continue for those souls who said “I recognise this” – and there are far more of us about who recognise this than we realise.  


2 responses to “Blinking

  1. Good to hear of the gradual climb out of the depths.

    Will continue to pray for that peace, which Jesus gave us and which we sometimes have difficulty finding.

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