Last night, watching TV (whoa!), more specifically, Private Practice, I was really impressed with the story line there.  For those of you who don’t watch the show, the psychiatrist/psychologist (not sure which) was pregnant last season.  The season finale was her getting her baby stolen via C-section, in her own home, by her psychotic patient.  Yeah.  They left it right there!  I was angry for about 2 weeks that they left it at such a cliffhanger.  Anyway, back to the point.  So this season, Violet (the psych), is struggling with some serious PTSD and PPD (Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and Post-partum depression for those of you not in the know).  As a doctor of the human mind, she is well-aware of her psychological status, and yet, cannot just “pull it together.”  The end of the episode, she gave the baby to one of the possible dads.  (Long, confusing plot line, I know, just run with it, OK?)

What impressed me the most was the depiction of someone dealing with these disorders.  The fact that she couldn’t just “snap out of it” was something that needed to be brought to light.  These are diseases.  Not just a “frame of mind.”  You cannot just “get over it.”  When something so traumatic happens in your life, not everyone can deal with the emotions of these traumas so easily. 

For me, 18 years after the start of my abuse, 14 years after it ended, I still get nightmares.  My husband can hardly stand quietly behind my back without me jumping out of my skin when I find him there.  If he waits outside the bathroom door for me to come out (only 1 bathroom in the Insane Asylum), it scares the shit out of me.  I know it’s not rational, he’s my husband and would never be there waiting to hurt me, but it’s really scary to me.

After I had S, I spent a great deal of time on the couch.  It wasn’t until Mr. B asked me to go dancing with him and I turned him down that he realized something was really, really wrong.  (Mr. B does NOT dance and I can’t get him to take me most of the time.)  He finally sat me down (which wasn’t hard to do since, like I said, I didn’t leave the couch) and said he thought I was depressed and needed to go see someone and maybe get some medication.  PPD is quite common among women, but to a sexual abuse victim who had just had a daughter, the PTSD kicks in a little harder.  That was about the time that I started having flashbacks.  Times with my poor, dear, Mr. B that I wish had never happened.  I was scared to be touched, sexually.  Every thing felt like I was being used.  He stuck by me.  Something that a lot of men would not have done. 

With A, it was a lot easier to notice the signs of the PPD and seek help before it got serious.  Actually, I was on anti-depressants for most of my pregnancy because the anxiety from the PTSD was so huge that there were days I could barely make it through without a major anxiety attack.

If you want my completely unsolicited advice (why else would you be here, right?), it would be that if you even think you’re struggling with either of these illnesses, or worse, both, seek some help.  Quickly.  You don’t have to be the crazy lady in the closet who spills her coffee and hides whenever the doorbell rings.  Or the woman who has to pass keys to the house through the mail slot to her closest friends.  Or, more seriously, who cannot bond with her baby.  (And while I may sound glib, I’m being very serious.  It’s not healthy.)  There is help.  Below are some resources.

http://support4hope.com/ptsd

http://ppdsupportpage.com

0 people like this post.

Like 

Jesus Loves You, this I know

My family has been gripped and torn and chewed up by pornography and infidelity.  It is what it is.  I made a choice when I came back to the Lord that I would choose to love my husband despite anything that happens.  My husband is an amazing man.  He loves me so much.  He takes such good care of this family.  However, he does have a problem.  I hold him accountable for his actions, the same way that Jesus would, but I don’t judge him for it.  Sure, there are times when the temptation of sin wins over his desire to be faithful and pure before me and the Lord.  Those times send me into a place of horrible sadness and distress and anger.  Sometimes, during those times I want to leave.  But I don’t.  I know that I made a promise to my husband, a covenant to the Lord, that I would love and honor and respect my husband “For better, for worse, until death.”  Knowing that there’s a ministry that will support him and love him without judgement in his transgressions, and love and support me as I try to support him, is why this ministry is so important. 

I don’t blame my husband for his addiction, though I hold him accountable for his actions.  I don’t blame the porn industry for being there, though I wish it weren’t.  I blame the Weaver of Lies.  I blame Satan.  I blame Satan for tempting him.  I blame Satan for luring actors, directors, and producers with cash for sin.

Loving people entrenched in sin.  That’s what Craig Gross’ ministries are about.  For me, it is easy to love the lost.  Most of my friends are not Christians.  Most of the people I chat with on Twitter are not followers of Jesus.  I’m glad.  En masse, I don’t like Christians.  Let me esplain, Christians, en masse, act like a bunch of Pharisees.  They hide behind their righteousness while condemning the world to Hell. 

When the book was announced, I was excited to read it.  I knew that Craig Gross and Jason Harper would be telling us to LOVE sinners.  To reach out to the lost, the forgotten, the criminals, the homosexuals and people of other sexual orientations.  I hate that phrase: “the homosexuals.” The way it sounds just screams “OUTCAST!”  All those phrases, really.  I like the term Craig uses, “pre-Christian.”

The book came in the mail (I didn’t even know in advance that I was selected) and the mailman must have thought I was certifiable.  I opened up the packaging and shouted “Woo hoo!” and did a little jig around my living room when I realized I was going to be reading and reviewing this book.  No, I didn’t tape it.

I read, and I read, and I read.  Craig and Jason’s stories about the people they encountered and what LOVE looked like inspired me more and more.  Love didn’t look like just telling them, “Jesus loves you.”  Love didn’t look like quoting Scripture at them.  Love certainly didn’t look like standing on a street corner with a picket sign.  Love certainly also never looked like being at political rallies screaming for “the right thing.”  Love looked like listening.  It looked like feeding a hungry, drunk, depressed man.  Love looked like hanging out with your friend, who happens to be gay, and enjoying a meal and talking (about anything that gets the conversation going).  Love looked like befriending a grief-stricken stranger.  Love looked like making friends with a bunch of drunken teens and carting them around while they were too hammered to walk and then cleaning up their sick.  I wondered if that was what LOVE looked like on me.  I thought that it could. 

I got to the end of the book….

Hypocrite.  This is what I was thinking when I finished the last paragraph of Jesus Loves You, this I know.  Not about Craig and Jason, but about myself. 

In the very recent past, I have spent a whole lot of time on my soapbox.  I’ve been angry with the Christian Church (universally) about its treatment of not only the lost, but the found.  Judgement has swirled through my thoughts, my comments, my heart.  (And for those that I have expressed this same judgement to, I deeply apologize and ask your forgiveness.)  The book really convicted me, quite eloquently, about the truth that Jesus loves everybody.  Even the judgemental.  Even the religious.  Even me.  Even you.

As I was reading this, I kept mentally writing this review.  What I’ve actually written looks nothing like what it did in my mind.  In my mind, I imagined myself quoting all the nuggets of wisdom that were profound to me.  I imagined telling you readers about the value of relating to people in all walks of life.  Instead, what comes out is a humbling testimony of my failure to love others.  What comes out is a candid, personal view into the most private of private struggles in my marriage.  Instead, what is coming out is my total understanding that Jesus loves Me:  as I am and where I am.  

The only quote I’m going to share from the book is something that Craig says in the first chapter, which is available at the website http://jesuslovesyou.net.  It’s just a good cornerstone to relationships.  Whether you are a Christian who is relating with other Christians, a non-Christian relating to non-Christians, or any combination of those, this is an exceedingly critical consuetude to practice in your relationships. 

“It is essential to show people that they can belong in your world even if they don’t act, think, behave, or believe like you.” –Craig Gross

I really recommend getting a hold of this book.  You can click here to purchase it from Amazon directly!  Or go to the sidebar over there and click on the picture!  Craig and Jason are very relatable.  This book addresses people from every walk of life:  from the liars to the porn stars; from the forgotten to the center or attention.  Whether you are a pre-Christian, mid-Christian, post-Christian, there is something in this book for you.  The message isn’t “Be a Christian or you’re going to Hell.”  The message is:  Jesus Loves You, this I know.

2 people like this post.

Like 

I’m so lucky to be married to Mr. B. We’ve been together for 8 years, married 7 this November, and this good-looking man still finds me sexy, funny, beautiful, etc. We’ve had two children and are more intimate now than we were before we had them. We annoy each other tremendously, which just proves to me that there is still passion between us to care about what the other is doing.

How did we meet? In a chat room on AOL. He was younger than I, but he was still quite the charmer. We spent hours upon hours chatting online, then the telephone for months before he made the move to come be with me. (He lived in Des Moines and I lived in Atlanta)

Don’t get me wrong, I love this man so much and I wouldn’t change anything in our life, ever. Still. Sometimes I watch movies like this and wonder what it would be like to meet someone and fall in love like they do. In person. Dating.

Then I remember… rejection, losers, cheap people who make me pay even though they asked me out, getting to know someone’s pet peeves and quirks, meeting friends and family members again, blind dates, and HALITOSIS! Would not back to that place. Ever. Again.

Sure there are issues in our marriage. Well, in general, not really, but there are days where we don’t get along. Days where we would like to be alone. Days where communication skills fail us and shouting commences. Days where we are so tired that intimacy eludes us. Bills. Chores. Diapers. Laundry. Everyday life.

Then there are days where we cannot stop thinking about each other. Days where I just about die in anticipation to see him again. To kiss him again. To have him hold me and tell me he loves me.

Last week I had a bad day. Like, really bad day. If you read my post last week where I told of my past, then you can imagine what kind of bad day I was having. Flashbacks, nightmares, the works. I had a meltdown and a complete shutdown. Just to take care of the kids was nearly impossible. I know some of you don’t/can’t understand that, having never suffered from depression or had a horribly traumatic experience in your life (God, how I envy you).

Mr. B could have chosen to not take it seriously. He could have chosen to tell me to “Get over it.” I’m sure is something he wanted to do because he doesn’t understand it all the time. (I know I complain, more than I should, about his lack of understanding, but I am starting to realize how frustrating it is from his end to have a wife who he loves so much be so broken and there is little that he can really do to “fix it,” which is the male natural response, to “fix it.”) Instead, however, he called me several times to check on me. He left work early and surprised me with a card and my favorite candy. He took over the kids and told me to rest. He let me go out that evening and didn’t even question about dinner or anything.

THAT is romance. Lemme tell you something, there is nothing sexier than a supportive husband. A loving husband. A husband who takes the time, when it matters most, to be there for me.

It may look a lot different from the movie romance, but the romance hasn’t gone ANYWHERE!

1 people like this post.

Like