Are the voices in my head too loud for you?

Saddling Up

I am attempting to climb 'back in the saddle' after what has felt like a significant glitch.  I had being trying so hard to schedule and 'normalise' my behaviour that the wave of anxiety and incapacity overwhelmed me rather unexpectedly.  I feel as though I was learning to walk emotionally again and from time to time I still come a cropper and feel the need to batten down the hatches and become a recluse once more. 

Part of my 'downfall' was a quite inexplicable, and sudden lack of confidence in the care I was receiving from mental health professionals.  It wasn't rooted in any sense of denial regarding my condition, at least I don't think it was.  Rather I found myself finding it increasingly difficult to conform to the expectations placed upon me.  Yes, getting some kind of schedule into my life is in essence a wholly desirable thing - it is more of a difficulty for me to discern what makes it into the schedule than accepting the idea that a schedule is desirable.  I was being introduced to activities which felt strangely distant.  It took me a while to realise that they were uncomfortable partly because they did not resemble the kind of pastime I would usually enjoy.  I was aiming to please others and get a tick in the box of recovery.  I wasn't addressing my own needs - which is a precursor in my view of managing BPD in the long term.

I think part of my 'downfall' was also the very real grief that academic term had started and for the first time in more years than I care to remember I am not beginning to teach a course in Theology.  I miss my teaching and my students more than anything.  My old boss had said (yes, the one who fired me) that we would be meeting up this month to talk about possible futures.  The month is almost out and I have waited and watched the post, feeling rather foolish at my preoccupation and not wanting to test the water for fear of further rejection.  I will write and continue to paint but right now I feel as though my arm has been cut off without the class contact and interaction with colleagues.  No doubt something will turn up.

I am amazed how much energy seeps away when I am worrying unnecessarily about things I have little or no control over.

Today has been a good day.  I have given some head under the duvet time this week to working out which parts of me are ready to do more and which still need a little defrosting.  For the moment I am feeling acutely isolated from the Church.  I am sure this is the pain of recent rejection as a tutor combined with the pretty much non-existent relationship I have with the local Anglican scene.  I think I have read all this in the past as in some way my fault - "I must try harder".  The last duvet meditation revealed to me my anger and sense of righteous indignation.  I am a worthy servant - but where I am placed it is impossible to see how any kind of practice as an Anglican and progressive Christian can be creatively realised outside of the very necessary work of The Sanctuary.  The key is that I am learning not to try so hard and not to take things lying down.  I have always been great at defending others and fighting on their behalf but lousy at arguing my own case.  THat is going to change.  If opportunities don't fall into place from one source they will from another.  But this time, I am going into dialogue with a stronger sense of my preferred outcome.    What is to be gained by this approach is significant freedom to explore other possible futures; a chance to learn from my mistakes and the mistakes of others.

A former student at TISEC kindly informed me, amongst other things, that it was the Course's loss that I was no longer teaching on it.  Initially I thought she was quite wrong - just over-egging the cake to ease the pain.  It's taken time to recognise that it is their loss - but also mine - and we will both feel the worse without the other.  The course has lost a gifted teacher, but that teacher has lost the stimulation of engaging with others.

You're fired!

I was mortified to find out I have been fired today - and it wasn't even as graceful(!) as a an Sir Alan Sugar dismissal.  The job I was hoping to go back to in September, teaching Christian Spirituality at The Theological Institute of the Scottish Episcopal Church has been taken away from me without any discussion or warning.  It carries a small honourarium and only involves creating a Reader and teaching for five residential weekends and a summer school, but it was a very enjoyable experience for the most part!  I was looking forward to returning to this in September.

I was talking the other day to the See Me campaign about doing some volunteer campaigning about mental health and stigma in the workplace and in social contexts.  Little did I think that I would find myself feeling something of a victim a few days later!  As far as I understood it the fact that I have been ill was an unfortunate blip in the general continuity of teaching and being an Associate Ministry Development Officer for TISEC.  I have been proud of the work I have done in the past.

At no point - until today - when I attempted to arrange a meeting with my now 'old' boss, to talk about the details of next term, did I find I have no role to go back to.  I am still surprised.  It doesn't make much sense and isn't sinking in.  I am mostly horrified. 

One good piece of news about being a hell of a lot better is that I get angry in the moment rather than supressing it.  I am ballistic - what?!  How the ...?  I am not even sure this can actually be done?  Do I have any rights in this?  Can I be fired?  I have never been fired in my life - it is a horrible feeling I have to say.  Until I cut through my anger I won't research whether there is anything I can do about this.  The Church doesn't have Tribunals as such and is not subject to things like equality legislation or discrimination law.  For now I just feel cheated out of an important expression of vocation - as a theological educator.  Cheated out of a job I thought I still had.

Right.  Now I have got that off my chest, I can also own up that I feel hurt.  I now realise that all the guff I was told about being a valued and essential part of the TISEC team must have been tosh.  Convenient when I was doing my job and agreeing to do extra work - but no longer the case when I became ill. 

I have been given no reason as to why I can't return to teaching with the course apart from the fact that the person who has been subbing for me this last academic year is doing next year too. All news today.

I can't help but feel a little discriminated against.  I believe any reasonable person in a comparable situation would argue the same.  I am avoiding believing that this is an example of the church's educational provision exhibiting its ignorance about mental health and fitness for work and hoping it is an ill thought out managerial aberration - but I am not holding my breath.

I just cannot believe that TISEC can do this.  Perhaps more importantly I cannot believe I was effectively fired in an e-mail.  I can't think of any other charity, voluntary organisation let alone business or educational establishment where this would be acceptable.  Most extraordinary.  Still life so often is.

I have heard that someone I very much value has decided to buy a Newfoundland pup!  I am extremely pleased and have images of Humph and this new little bundle of girl-life having puppies in a few years time!  She is black apparently - so there would be a delicious mix of brown and black pups!  This made my day.  Simple pleasures for simple minds.  No cloaks, daggers or the sniff of betrayal of trust in the language of dogs.

Get A Life

A difficult day yesterday - and not feeling much like a relaxed family holiday - some you win...

Dogs needed company and I needed dog company.  Our grief and at some level relief at Jessie's death was palpable.  Four dogs on the bed while I read a novel and drank lots of tea - seemed about right.  They slept and needed lots of love - so did I.  I spent the day, when I wasn't examining the inside of my eyelids also watching and checking out pack dynamics.  I still think it will be brilliant if Dido, our Golden Retriever, can hold command but she may feel at this time in her life it just isn't worth the hassle!  She's loving the special privileges that go with leadership though!  Having said that, with Jessie's death the pack are for the most part similar ages with the exception of Mungo who is just 4 - so another leader may yet emerge and claim the crown.  My prayer is that it is not Mungo who is highly intelligent, funny and completely lovable but impulsive and excitable.  So far his only bid has been to sleep with his head touching me.

Dogs are still 'confined' to quarters but we will see if some sort of gentle reintergration can be countenanced today - possibly after the Dolphin Cruise.  We need to be guided by my step-granddaughter's stress levels.  I don't feel worried about the dogs - they are dogs - but it just feels odd not having them about as I move round the house.  I miss two dogs under my desk as I write.

The family holiday won't last for ever so even if they remain confined they will survive!!!  Just such a shame that a precious and rare trip and gathering of some of my partner's clan should be marred by such awful events.  My mum has been ill too - and our son. 

And yes, depression is still my companion - but my mood could be a lot worse!

In a sense these incidents have the potential to be great healers or simply to act as reinforcers of past experience.  Whichever they have enormous power.

I am reminded of the wisdom Jesus showed when those who had chosen to follow his teaching were bickering about their relative importance amongst themselves.  He set boundaries; listened and was unimpressed by posturing.  His message was always clear and unequivocal - whatever your pain through experience and past hurt, the call is to return once more and claim life - life in it's uniqueness and richness.  Always the process of healing involves forgiveness or letting go.  Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting but it does mean acknowledging that life and our experience is always imperfect and is actually nobody's fault - not even our own.  I guess forgiveness rests on an understanding that at a base level other human beings are essentially good and are not out to be hurtful, manipulate or to be destructive of others just for the hell of it.  Clearly many cannot accept forgiveness is ever possible.  It must eat away at any sense of joy or possible delight in life.  For most of us forgiveness is so challenging a concept because in our most reflective moments, we recognise that the hardest thing of all is to forgive ourselves;  our moments when we have manipulated reality to gain credibility with others; the moments we have fallen short in our compassion; the moments fear of what we may lose has clouded our generosity of spirit.

Maybe Jesus wasn't so daft when he gave a reasonably wide berth to his birth family once he moved into the intensive emotionally and intellectually demanding period of his earthly ministry.  Cultural convention would have encouraged a young man to be seen to 'stand on his own two feet' but there is also a spiritual reality and authenticity to Jesus' choices.  He acted with emotional awareness but detachment.  The road to salvation in a literal and metaphorical sense does not lie, he argued, in colluding or denying reality.  The wisdom of new life, he teaches us, is found in becoming not only more fully our selves but in acknowledging our responsibility for our own decisions and journey.  We have choices to make.  We can choose to be a victim or a hero.  We can delight in generously sharing our gifts and talents or shutting others out and denying their generosity and humanity.  We can build up our treasure in possessions thinking somehow we will feel better - and find that actually they simply highlight the emptiness.  We can deny our needs and pretend - but ultimately the only person we kid is ourselves.

Or we can choose to move on and quite literally - get a life.

Cassandra

Have you ever had one of those moments when you recognise that your intuition and insight has been generously accurate?  I find such times reassuring but also disappointing, particularly when my intuition speaks of negativity or less than I would hope for in another.

Intuition is a powerful tool and although it is often a sign of emotional intelligence, it can be used as the most invasive and dangerous of weapons.  I have learnt over time the importance of trusting my intuition but also not over using it.  My insight is fast and skilled.  Potentially it can be very painful and even hurtful to have an emotional mirror thrust in your face reflecting back what has been seen.

But where intuition ends is with the revelation of insight.  Sometimes it can help to discern how to approach a person or situation or offer guidance about where priorities lay.  Often it is much more like a beam of light illuminating the many aspects of a situation.  Then how I choose to use what I have intuited becomes much more an issue of applying intellect, reason and a compassionate, creative heart.

Intuitions which expose conflict and anger are especially challenging as a person expressing such needs often wants at a base level to seek revenge, retaliation or simply vent their negativity and it can be hard to separate projection from reality.  Sometimes it is the most effective smoke screen there is for not facing their own vulnerability and 'playing the victim' of everyone elses insensitivity or lack of sensitivity.  Sometimes conflict is about justice; righting wrongs and judging that the reality is just not good enough and needs to be changes.

Conflict transformation is part of the Office and work of a priest and so it is I find that it's costly, but stimulating except when no headway is made and then, like most negotiators the art is knowing when to withdraw.   I tend to sxit in the knowledge that I need to accept that this particular situation is not going to be moved on by me - so there's not a lot of point in giving it energy by becoming one of it's casualties either.

This morning I began reading Finding Sanctuary as part of my morning devotion.  It was a timely piece which reminded me that whatever my strength of feeling and intuition - in many decisions - there is also a significant dynamic of ambiguity; whether that be identified in the version of events you are being asked to explore - or in the intuition of dynamics or in the nature of human memory and understanding.  What is sad however is when anger leads to a form of stigmatisation and exclusion. 

You see it most clearly in popularist TV reality shows like Big Brother where the individuals who are different or idiosyncratic are excluded from the 'in' crowd.  You observe it in the playground when children will play highly sociable games and carefully avoid the children, who, for whatever reason, do not fit in.  And of course most of us experience it to some degree at work or in our family contexts.  Either the growing awareness that someone we admire is the object of stigmatisation, or that our views have isolated us.  For an intuit, that isolation can have a Cassandra like quality until the day comes when others see her prohesies in fact have come to pass and that her intuition has the capacity to bring life not death.

Taking Time

The reality of taking some space is that the space seems to have taken me.  This morning my meditations focused on a poem by Bonnie Thurston:

Prayer is not

scribbling together

a few paltry words,

flinging them like stones

at the windows

of ineffability.

It is Gelassenheit,

letting go,

being carried on a current

toward a vast ocean

deep beyond imagining;

sitting silently,

gaze firmly fixed

on one golden,

inscrutable face,

waiting,

with the patience of love;

pouring out life,

that alabaster vial

of costly ointment,

at the feet of One

Who washes others with His tears.

Prayer is

asking nothing,

desiring nothing

but this, only this.

[De Waal, Esther, Lost in Wonder: Rediscovering the Spiritual Art of Attentiveness (2003) Norwich: Canterbury Press page 52]

I thought alot about how I have been washed and wash others with tears.  The tears of tenderness and sometimes frustation as a lover, carer and parent; the tears of pride and love; the tears of joy at some ridiculously small thing that finally comes together; tears of transformation and vision - seeing a situation or person for what the person can be and is rather than how the individual sees themselves.

Attention to Detail

There are moments in life when we need to stand up and be counted.  Not often just now and again - and sometimes it's just a quick stand up and then sit down again quickly.  Today was such a day.

As I reflected on the day at Evening Prayer I was surprised it was the minor rather than the major key changes of the day that had remained with me.  Moments on the phone chatting with a potential community member;  time playing with the dog and a few moments in the fresh air soaking up the ever changing landscape.  The big happenings had their place.  The little things make the day have worth and lasting resonance.

Enticing

Most of the day I have been marking student assignments.  They show thought and insight - and are challenging and full of interesting resources.  I have especially enjoyed marking this cohort of assignments because I have got to know the students better than I usually do.  This year I have attended all residentials and the summer school.  As I read each assignment I could hear the voice of the student reading it to me.  With so few students even 'blind marking' I would know who had written it!  Their voices and own approaches shine through.

Much to reflect on and consider.

In between times I have been dreaming dreams - furthering thoughts of community and just beginning to evolve an idea for a new novel.

All very tentative and embryonic and too new to discuss or permit to be scrutinised just yet!

I am also aware of claiming and delighting in friendship just now.  We have lived in the Highlands for five years and during that time have had to work hard to find our niche.  I was aware that at times I was lonely - and I am delighting in the friendships we are discovering and deepening.  Meetings of minds; humour; some - spiritually and psychically enlightening - all adding life and bringing many blessings.

In Chapel each day we have been reading a book by Jane Tromain with the rather unpromising title of St. Benedict's Tool Box.  It has proved a timely reminder of hospitality and the practice of generosity and good humour.

A meditation of sorts came to mind:

ENTICING

Inadvertently slumped,

unexpectedly beached

and newly sentient,

we move a little, stretch and shake,

shifting to find our bearings,

recognising the familiar;

reluctant to touch the wounded crag;

the jagged scab

that reminds us

all too quickly that all is not what it seems.

Slithering to life,

we risk a gentle manoevering

and set out boundaries in mounds of sand,

marking our claimed territory

until such times as we can

deconstruct our defences.

Rememberings return

and take us back to the yearnings

which we now investigate in intimate proximity.

We recognise destiny.

It is an uncomfortable reckoning that some things are beyond our control.

We shuffle bulbous parts against the dankness

making our mark for this time

and roll about a little

testing

what we might consider we can do in our prime.

Catching breath.

The angels are fascinated,

a little nod of intrigue.

They have invested in our outworking

and are busy setting our egos imaginings to the music

of the oldest dance in time.

They make it clear; quite, quite clear,

They, as a multitude,

are of one, unequivocal mind:

they detest even the slightest hint of sand between their toes.

JEW