But God Hath Not Given Us a Spirit of Fear

Fear,  over cleaning off a table -- what is the deal here?

I don't think the  fear is about cleaning off a table: it is about what I have to do  after  I  clean off the table.  I have to figure out how to keep it that way.

Do you ever have fears that unexpectedly pop up?  All of a sudden, this irrational fear  envelops your being.  

Ask these questions:

What is the fear really about?
Has it been a hard day?
Are you on the edge of exhaustion?

It seems answering these questions might explain some aspects of fear.

What is the fear really about?  I'm afraid I will let the table go again.  If I use it, it will become a mess.  And I am weary of  trying to figure out what to shed from my life and where to put the keepers.  I want everything to be simple and clear, but life doesn't always cooperate.

Has it been a hard day?  Oh yes, from the very beginning.  I woke up dizzy and I am walking around in a fog that I don't want to give in to.  And I weighed -- I have gained all my weight back.

Are you on the edge of exhaustion?  Yes.  I am.  I live most of my life on the edge of exhaustion, trying to overcome it.

However, as I walked out of the room with the big table, I prayed God would take me step by step down His path.  I don't care how long it takes, as long as He is my guide.  So now when I should be fixing supper, I close my eyes and rest, thankful for frozen dinners.

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.   2 Timothy 1: 7 (KJV)                                                                                               

Fixing Life Again

Have you ever tried to fix life?  Have you found out you cannot do it -- that you can only pray about things?  Or that you can let those things ruin every day?  Have you discovered you have to decide which to choose?  Do you ever feel confused and wonder if you should take a road you have never thought the right one?

Words Do Hurt

All I can say is that I have found myself turning myself inside out trying to please others.  Pleasing people I love is something I like to do, but when I try to explain myself or protect myself or be myself around some of these people, I get words thrown at me like darts.  I don't know if these people know what they do.  I think they still think I am well or better, when I push myself past my physical and emotional limits.  Then, they get mad when I crash.   Or they think I have gone mental, when what has happened is I have nothing left in me physically to do the every-day, normal things.  I have to go to bed all day sometimes.  Wednesday, I slept most of the day.  

Then, here come the questions:  are you sick?  how do you feel?  Hmm.... let's see...I was so tired, I wet the bed last night...nah let's not mention that one.  Am I sick?  Well, what do you think?  Could the fact I have a cane that I have to use sometimes be a clue?  Have I said a miracle happened -- I'm cured of the illness I have had for the last 15 to 20 years?  Could the fact I have not gone to the grocery store or cooked for two days be a clue?  Could the fact that I no longer pretend to be Mrs. Perfect to visiting relatives be a clue?

Could someone tell me when enough is enough?  Why am I the one that is supposed to always be nice, compliant, sweet, uncomplaining and patient?  Why do I have to listen to someone else complain?  But I cannot get mad because I might lose my husband -- not his words by the way -- someone else's. My husband is mature and loving:  he is human:  and he is mature and loving.  I will not let someone else's fears become mine, nor her insecurities.    

The point is that many people with chronic illness go through similar
mental /emotional abuse through the holidays or at other times.  I try to turn the cheek, keep my mouth shut, and wait for the offender to go home.  Some of you live with that person all the time.  Some of them do it on purpose and some are clueless people who never consider how words and tones of voice can hurt.  My question is how much is too much?  Will that person or persons even understand?  For some of us, we know some of the offenders are not capable of understanding.  I hate to leave this open-ended, but I am still figuring out what my solution is.  

The reason I had not written for the last few days was that I thought 2013 was going to start out so differently than it has.  I didn't want to be sad or write something sad.  But I promised you honesty, because we all have situations to deal with at different times in our lives.  I'm sorry if I rambled.
I am in healing mode right now -- Again.

The First Christmas Supper 2012

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

Tonight is the night of the first Christmas Supper of 2012 for me.  I don't go out much anymore, so I look forward to it, but I also feel a bit of anxiety.  When my husband came home for lunch, I asked him teasingly, "Should I go for beautiful or sick tonight."  Those of you who have Fibromyalgia or/and CFIDS probably know what I was feeling when I said that.  I was thinking about those people who know church services I have missed, etc., and when they see me, I don't look sick.  And I have to say that I don't really want to look sick.  I just get frustrated when I know there are people that probably don't believe it.  I admit -- I am still afraid of being judged.  By the way, I still vote for looking the best I can look.

As much as I know about my illness, there are times I get so frustrated with myself -- I still have moments I have to let putting out energy remind me that life in the Chronic Fatigue Immune Defiency Syndrome realm is never going to be normal, unless a miracle occurs.  I wish someone would tell me why I still feel guilty about something I can't help.  I don't carry that guilt around every moment, but it hits sometimes.

There are things I could probably do if I could afford to have people to do some of the things I have to do at home.  However, I have to make a choice;  and the basic things of life need to be done.  My husband is getting older too.  When I can cook supper, wash clothes, or clean the areas in the house that need to be cleaned, I am helping him.  That is the way I can support his ministry in our church, which still makes it our ministry because I am his helpmate.  I want to sing in the choir, go to every service, play piano, sing solos and do all the things I used to do.  Sometimes, I am so sad I cannot do this, but someday I will be praising my God in Heaven with more energy than I ever had.  I will be able to dance on my toes for Him and leap in the air, and sing too.  So I praise God with all my heart that He just put this picture in my mind to share.

For all you out there that have any chronic illness:  Merry Christmas!  We do not need to fear or grieve, but praise God that in the name of Jesus, we will one day be whole.

P.S.  I won't be writing as much during the Christmas Season, but I always try to remember to post it.  I will also check into a place for you to subscribe.
Love,
Deborah