I’ve written a few blog posts lately. Just haven’t got round to posting them or it hasn’t been the right time or something like that.

But the important thing is I’m writing one now.

 

I’ve been pondering the idea of healing. We talked about it at church on sunday, which lead to J and I having a conversation in the car that afternoon about it, then during chapel this morning I spoke to a friend about.

I am Bi-Polar, that shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone at this point, and normally I don’t have a problem talking about it. For some reason on Sunday I was happy to say I had a condition, to talk about the concept of healing but I struggled to say what it was.

I wish I knew why.

(Time for some Jesus stuff)

The bible talks about this idea of Healing, that Jesus is our healer, he takes our burdens and struggles and heals us. There are stories of people being raised from the dead, leprosy going, blind seeing. That kind of stuff.

I’ve seen it as well, friends broken bones not being broken anymore, people medically unable to have babies having 3 or 4 children, cancer disappearing over night. I’ve seen Derren Brown I know that some stuff can be faked, but I know this stuff wasn’t. You can’t really fake actually giving birth.

 

But that’s only one kind of healing. For me it’s bigger than that. Whilst all these miracles happen I think there is a bigger one, the miracle of acceptance. I have friends who had their miracle babies, but I also have friends who have accepted that because a child doesn’t share their genetics doesn’t mean it’s not their child. Friends dying of cancer being real and vulnerable, being at peace and using what time they have left to it’s very fullness.

Peace, that’s the real thing about healing for me. To be at peace with your life and what is going on, accepting the struggles and using them to be a better person, to help others, to grow and make a difference in the world.

That’s what I want from my illness. Most days that is what I have. I accept that I have mental quirks, that these quirks are part of my story, that it is a powerful story full of struggles and challenges but also great joy. I have the highs and the lows (little bi-polar joke for you all.) But to be able to use my experience, my life story to help others, to now have hear or shame about it, to know my very life has a purpose, warts and all, well that;s healing for me.

Well at least I think that it is.

 

You see I’m happy. Lots of great things have happened in my life recently, engagement, new job, new home, new friends, new start. All brilliant things. I’ve also not had a real low point in all of this change which is pretty unusual for me. These things make me happy (as do many other things.)

But mostly I’m happy because I know I’m happy. I can know actual happiness and not worry that I’m on a hyper, I can be sad and know that it’s probably not the depression coming back.

Is that part of the healing or just flipping good meds? Maybe it’s both.

 

I guess I’m talking about this because I had a moment where I was pondering the mammoth task of planning a wedding, (with someone else who is noway near as much as an anally retentive control freak,) and the time we have to do that in, as well as work and life’s and fun stuff and it was a little overwhelming. None more so then that dreaded guest list. Most of it is easy but there are a few names that I have had to battle with, a few people that deciding on fills me with that anxious dread, knowing what I have to do, what I should do, what is right to do, what is petty and childish of me, and actually what I didn’t think, but I’m not sure and maybe that would surprise me if that I feel that way to do. (Gosh that sentence is a, heck who knows that that sentence was, my bad.) anyway there are decisions and stuff and it’s overwhelming and there was this moment of fear.

“What if I get ill again because of this.”

It was fleeting as I don’t think I will, mostly because J is pretty good at snapping me out of the downward spiral, but there was that brief moment. Which lead to another moment of longing to be healed, to not have to have that worry, to function like a “normal” person.

I don’t like that I had that moment, because, for me that isn’t healing. I don’t like that moment of “I don’t want this anymore.”

But then,

well maybe,

maybe that is also part of the healing, the ability to accept that sometimes we just don’t want it, to be vulnerable in that fear, and keep on going anyway.

Sorry about the brain fart on a page kids.

 

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